Married To Darkness

"I'm a vampire, Fiery. Do you want to know something else?"

She gulped, her pulse racing faster than when she had insisted on her exhaustion moments earlier. "What is it?" she whispered, her voice trembling.

"Right now," he murmured, his cold, velvety voice brushing against her ear like a dark wind, "I can feel your blood rushing, searching for solace beneath your skin."

Her breath hitched, a wave of unfamiliar fear gripping her as his words sank in. Her blood. He could feel it? The heat of her body seemed to tempt him, evident from the slow, deliberate smile curling on his lips as he savoured her reaction.

He leaned in, his voice low and smooth, laced with danger. "The warmth that is you... it's so tempting. It makes me wonder what I'll do to you tonight." His breath ghosted over her neck, sending a violent shiver down her spine.

She shivered visibly, goosebumps coating her arm, unable to mask the fear clawing at her insides. Her pulse quickened, and she now knew he sensed every change in her body. His smile widened at the sound of her thudding heartbeat, clearly enjoying it. He lifted his head, locking his gaze onto hers.

Salviana's breath caught in her throat as her mind reeled, grasping for words that refused to come. The weight of his gaze held her captive, his hand pressed firmly into her waist, leaving her no escape. She knew she should be frightened, yet a strange sensation—a mixture of fear and fascination—tugged at her chest.

A vampire. The rumors had hinted at many things, but never this. Vampires were dangerous, deadly blood sucking monsters that no one talked about out of fear and refusal to accept the possibility of their existence among them.

"You..." she began, her voice wavering, "you don't... seem like a vampire."

His smirk deepened, a dangerous amusement flickering in his eyes. "And how would you know what a vampire is supposed to look like, Fiery?" His tone was mocking, daring her to respond.

Salviana swallowed hard, her green eyes flashing with uncertainty. "I don't. But the way people talk about you... they make you sound like a demon."

He tilted his head, studying her as though she were an enigma he hadn't expected. "People believe what they want to believe. It matters little." He stepped back slightly, his hand loosening from her waist, yet the proximity between them still felt suffocating.

She released a shaky breath, grateful for the small distance. Her mind raced, trying to process everything that had transpired in such a short time. She was married to a vampire—a being more feared than any other. And yet, here he was, standing before her, as if it were a mundane detail.

Her husband was a vampire!

He finally stepped back, the space between them still only offering little relief. With practiced ease, he donned his gloves again, and she hadn't even realized when he had removed them in the first place. She glanced at him, noting for the first time how completely covered he was. Was his skin different? Why does he cover them? But he was royal.

Even in the dim light of the corridor, he exuded control, each movement purposeful, each breath calculated. The more she observed, the more out of place and vulnerable she felt. Yet, despite the warning screams in her mind urging her to flee, her legs followed him.

Her sleepiness had all but vanished, replaced by a gnawing anxiety that kept her wide awake.

They approached a grand door, its surface gleaming with ornate carvings, guarded by two stout, almost comically rotund men with one slim guard. She found herself wondering how such men had managed to keep their positions as guards. They looked utterly incapable of protecting anything, let alone her husband, who she knew now could easily kill them without lifting more than a finger.

To her surprise, one of the guards winked at her. Before she could process the inappropriate gesture, her husband stopped abruptly. She collided face-first into his broad back, the impact startling her as much as the sudden halt.

Her head snapped up, but she couldn't see his face. His posture had stiffened slightly, a subtle shift, yet it was enough to send a new wave of tension through the air. The guards seemed to sense it too, straightening as their lazy expressions morphed into uncertainty.

He turned his head to the guard who had winked and regarded him silently. The demon prince said nothing, but his presence alone spoke volumes. He didn't need words to communicate the danger lurking just beneath the surface. After a moment of silent intimidation, he continued forward. Salviana, still unnerved by the entire exchange, followed in his wake, her heart thudding loudly in her chest.

As they passed the guards, Salviana couldn't help but glance back at them, her thoughts returning to their powerlessness against him. It felt as though she was walking beside a storm, something that could erupt at any moment, and she wasn't sure when, or if, she'd survive its wrath.

"Come in," he invited smoothly, his voice unexpectedly warm.

They stepped into the chambers that were now theirs. The room was vast, but shadows swallowed much of its space, revealing only what the flickering light from an ornate chandelier allowed. The air was thick, almost tangible, with an eerie stillness that sent a shiver down Salviana's spine.

The walls were lined with dark, almost black wood, carved with intricate designs that seemed to twist and writhe in the low light. The room felt ancient, as though it had existed for centuries untouched by time, but the prince should be a young man. This made her wonder if he was an old vampire or if it was in their nature to feel so ancient despite their youth.

Velvet curtains hung heavily, draping the tall windows and blocking out nearly all light. The deep, wine-red fabric shimmered faintly, cascading like blood pooling in slow motion. They were far too grand—overpowering the space with their richness and gloom.

Salviana found her mouth slightly parted as she regarded the towering bed in the centre of the room, its massive frame dark as night, almost coffin-like. Heavy black drapes surrounded it, thick enough to obscure the bed entirely when drawn. The covers were plush but equally dark, making the entire setup feel less like a place to rest and more like a monument to the dead.

Across the room, chairs of the same dark wood faced each other, their high backs casting long shadows, while an iron table stood between them, adorned with goblets that shone under the chandelier's dim glow. 

The chandelier itself hung ominously above, a twisted wrought-iron design with blackened candles burning low, casting an eerie, flickering light that barely reached the edges of the room. The flames danced, their shadows like ghostly figures, teasing her with each flutter.

Salviana's gaze drifted to a single oddity in the room—a small flower pot perched on a stand by the window. The delicate bloom seemed entirely out of place in this den of darkness. Its soft white petals caught her eye, and she frowned, wondering why such a fragile, living thing was here amidst all this cold and death.

A balcony stretched beyond the windows, barely visible through the thick curtains. She could imagine the wind sweeping across it, carrying the chill of the night. The thought made her shiver again, her mind darting back to the reality of her husband—a vampire who moved through this space as if it were a second skin.

As Salviana began to walk around the room, her eyes trailing over every corner, she became more aware of the silence. It wasn't just the lack of sound; it was the stillness in the air. Everything felt stagnant, almost suffocating. The wind shifted slightly, and she shivered again. Her mind whispered a reminder—he wasn't just a man. He was something far more dangerous, far more primal. A creature unlike what the kingdom thought him to be.

She walked to the far corner of the chamber and stumbled upon a mini library—shelves of dark wood lined with books that looked worn with age. Beside it stood an office with a large desk, neatly arranged as though he had just occupied it moments ago. Everything was in its place. Two doors led to empty rooms, and when she peered inside, they were bare, untouched.

She found herself wandering toward another door—the closet. The moment she stepped inside, the oppressive darkness swallowed her whole. It was pitch black, and a wave of dread crashed over her, too much for her to bear. Her pulse quickened, and she hurried out, her breath coming quicker than before.

As she continued exploring, she realized her husband had wandered off as well. His movements were silent, purposeful. He glided through the space with an unnerving ease. She marvelled at how she had managed to forget he had been behind her earlier, the peace at which she had ignored his presence.

Suddenly, the grand door to the chambers creaked open, and Salviana heard it shut moments later.

Had he left? Where was he going? she wondered, a curious frown etching her brow.

She paused, waiting for a sign, thinking he had stepped out. But then she heard the faintest sound, and turning around, she realized he hadn't gone far at all. He had returned, moving so stealthily she hadn't noticed when he'd left in the first place.

Their eyes met across the room, and for a brief moment, the air felt heavier than before. His gaze was unreadable—cold but filled with something she couldn't quite grasp. He didn't linger. With no words exchanged, he turned and disappeared into another room, one she hadn't yet explored.

Salviana stood in the centre of the dark chamber, feeling as though the walls themselves were closing in. Despite the room's vastness, there was nowhere that felt safe, nowhere that didn't carry his presence.