Married To Darkness-Chapter 339: His Wife Is Back

Alaric’s cousin.

The king’s first concubine’s son. Audrey’s son.

The father of three. Damn.

The prince with a chip on his shoulder and a hunger for power—one Alaric had doubted, and now Lucius could see why.

Jaron’s face twisted into something between defiance and panic, his jaw tight as his dark hair fell across his forehead. His chest heaved, but he didn’t speak—didn’t even blink.

Lucius’ shock lasted a second. Just a second. Then the rage returned—hotter, sharper.

"You," Lucius growled, shoving Jaron harder against the wall, stone crumbling behind him. "Alaric was right about you."

Jaron’s lip curled. "I don’t need your approval."

Lucius’ fist crashed into his jaw.

The prince staggered but didn’t fall—he retaliated fast, swinging a wild punch that Lucius easily dodged, grabbing Jaron’s arm and twisting it behind his back with a painful pop.

"Come on, Jaron," Lucius hissed, his voice a deadly whisper against the prince’s ear. "You really thought you could take me?"

Jaron struggled—fought hard—but Lucius was faster, stronger. Still, the prince wasn’t weak. He slammed his head back into Lucius’ nose, sending a sharp pain through his face.

Lucius’ vision blurred for a second, blood dripping down his lip, but the sting only made him angrier.

"Good hit," Lucius admitted, his voice low. "But not good enough."

He spun Jaron around and slammed him into the wall again, pinning him there with a hand to his throat.

"You’re so done," Lucius sneered, watching Jaron’s face turn red. "Let’s go."

Jaron thrashed, but Lucius didn’t budge.

"Alaric’s going to love seeing you like this," Lucius added, tightening his grip until Jaron’s struggle weakened.

Then, with a flash of vampiric speed, Lucius dragged the prince from the room—his mind already burning with what Alaric would do when he saw who had taken Salviana.

By the time Lucius reached the ground, Jaron’s struggling had faded to weak, useless jerks.

The prince was pale—even under the cold glow of the moon—his breathing shallow, his once defiant eyes now clouded with something that almost resembled fear.

But Lucius didn’t care.

His mind was fixed on one thing—Alaric. Salviana.

Where were they?

He scanned the garden, the broken window high above, the faint scent of blood—Salviana’s blood—still lingering in the night air. His jaw clenched.

"Where the hell—" he began, but movement to his left caught his eye.

Samion and Jaefel.

The knights, both looking disheveled and tense, stepped forward the moment Lucius appeared.

Samion’s hand was already on his sword hilt, his lips drawn into a thin line, while Jaefel’s gaze flicked from Jaron to Lucius, confusion etching his face.

"Lucius," Samion said, his voice clipped. "Where’s the Prince and Princess?"

Lucius’ patience snapped like a thread. "Gone. Alaric took her. I don’t know where yet."

Jaefel blinked. "Gone?" His voice cracked, still raw from the hours they’d spent searching for Salviana. "Why—why would they just—"

"There’s no time for this," Lucius cut him off, shoving Jaron forward so hard the prince nearly toppled into Samion’s chest. "Hold him."

Samion caught Jaron by the arm, his grip iron-tight. "Who is he?"

Lucius didn’t even glance back. "Jaron."

The name fell like a stone between them.

Samion’s mouth parted in disbelief. "Prince Jaron?"

Jaefel’s brows shot up. "The king’s concubine’s son?"

Lucius’ fangs ached to snap. "Yes."

Jaron, for all his struggle earlier, was silent now, his jaw locked but his skin ghostly pale.

Lucius grabbed Jaefel by the shoulder. "Stay here. Watch him. Don’t let him out of your sight—not even for a damn second. In fact, being him to the Third Prince’s chamber dungeon," His voice dropped into a lethal whisper. "If he so much as blinks wrong, break his legs."

Jaefel, usually the softer of the two knights, nodded. "Understood."

Samion still held Jaron in an unforgiving grip. "And you?"

Lucius’ black eyes gleamed under the moon. "I’m going after Alaric. They need protection."

Without another word, he turned and disappeared into the night, moving with the kind of deadly speed only a vampire could possess—his mind a storm of worry, rage, and dark promises.

He would find them.

And he needed to know how they’ll deal with this traitor.

Meanwhile,

Alaric, With his precious wife in his arms was walking back to their chambers with his heart and head full yet empty, he felt too much and yet felt numb.

The castle corridors buzzed with whispers—like a thousand bees stirring in a hive.

"The demon prince has found his wife."

"She was unconscious... did you see the blood on her dress?"

"Who took her? Was it true Prince Jaron—?"

"Shhh! He’ll hear you!"

But Alaric didn’t care.

His focus was unyielding, his jaw tight as he carried Salviana through the halls of the castle, her limp form cradled in his arms.

She didn’t stir—not even once—and it gnawed at the raw edges of his mind.

His black cloak billowed behind him, a dark storm cutting through the murmuring crowd.

He didn’t speak. Didn’t stop.

Didn’t even blink at the wide-eyed guards and royals who stepped aside, bowing their heads in silence.

The grand doors of their chambers groaned open under the weight of his magic, slamming shut the moment they crossed the threshold.

The walls seemed to sigh in relief at the sudden quiet, but Alaric’s heart thundered louder than ever.

Straight to the adjoining bath chamber—where steam clung to the air, curling against the black marble walls like a living thing.

The tub was enormous, carved from obsidian stone, already filled with steaming water. Alaric didn’t waste a second.

Still dressed, still bloodied, he stepped into the water with Salviana in his arms, sinking down until the heat embraced them both.

The water lapped at her torn dress, darkening the already ruined fabric as it floated around her like a cloud.

"Fiery..." His voice cracked—a low, broken whisper against the hiss of steam.

Her head lolled against his chest, and his fingers shook as he gently pushed the wet strands of hair from her face.

Her skin, usually a soft, glowing hue, was pale now—too pale.

"Wake up,"