The Devil's Betrothed novel Chapter 517

Chapter 517: Shield Against The Nightmare.

At the stroke of midnight, Alran and Oriana returned to the manor. Oriana, inebriated, leaned heavily on Alran, her balance swaying precariously. Drayce aided them in their teleportation back, as Alran’s powers were not yet fully realized.

Arlan guided her to the bed, while holding her in his arms and made her sit on the bed.

"Arlan Cromwell... Jerk... why do you flirt with me..." she muttered, burying her face against his chest.

Gently, Alran unwrapped the headband from her hair, allowing her locks to cascade freely along her slender back. He tenderly ran his fingers through her silken strands, untangling them with care.

"... why don’t you stay away from me?..." Oriana’s words came out as fragmented whispers.

A soft smile graced Alran’s lips, unfazed by her drunken ramblings. "That cannot happen," he murmured. "If I were to stay away from you, how would you come to realize the depth of your love for me? I could grant any wish you desire, but this... I cannot comply. I cannot bear to be apart from you, even for a moment. I await the day when you’ll declare that I am yours and yours alone, warning me against even the faintest thought of another woman, let alone finding my mate. And when that day comes, I’ll reveal something I’ve kept hidden from you."

He gently laid Oriana in bed, tucking her under the warmth of a blanket. Tonight marked the time to test the theories surrounding Oriana’s nightmares and the influence of his presence upon her.

Exiting the chamber, he made his way to the lounge where soon after, three figures materialized.

"Is she experiencing a nightmare?" Yorian inquired, his gaze fixed on Arlan.

"If she were, would I be sitting idly like this?" Arlan retorted, a trace of annoyance in his tone.

Before Yorian could respond, Evanthe interjected, seeking to diffuse the tension between the two fiery men. "She’s not having her knife with her, and with her powers awakened, the demon realm must be in dire pursuit of her. It’s reasonable to expect she may have a nightmare."

Sierra, grasping the gravity of the situation, added, "Let’s wait and see. We’ve little else to occupy us at this moment."

The quartet settled into the lounge, anticipation hanging heavy in the air as they awaited Oriana’s nightmare. Arlan’s senses remained sharp, attuned to any sounds emanating from his chamber. After half an hour of vigilant waiting, he finally detected a familiar murmuring, signaling Oriana’s troubled sleep.

Arlan rose from the couch, drawing the attention of the others.

"Is it happening?" Yorian inquired, to which Arlan nodded, preparing to leave. However, Evanthe intervened, her tone firm yet gentle. "Prince Arlan, you mustn’t go to her just yet."

Pausing, Arlan listened as Evanthe continued, emphasizing the necessity of testing whether his presence truly acted as a shield against Oriana’s nightmares. Despite his concern for Oriana, Arlan comprehended the significance of the night’s undertaking.

"Prince Arlan, this time the nightmare might possess a stronger grip," Sierra added, her words laden with concern. "With Oriana’s powers awakened, her connection to the demon realm—albeit through her dreams—could be more potent than we anticipate. These are not ordinary nightmares. Despite our efforts, it may prove challenging to retrieve her. If necessary, you may need to intervene as a last resort."

Reluctantly, Arlan acquiesced. "I understand."

The trio—comprised of an elf and two witches—accompanied Arlan to Oriana’s chamber, where her restless murmurs echoed from within. Yorian opened the door, and they entered to find Oriana ensnared in the throes of a nightmare.

Approaching Oriana, Sierra gently clasped her distressed hand. Closing her eyes, she delved into Oriana’s psyche, seeking to discern the intricate connections between her darkness and the malevolent forces that besieged her.

She opened her eyes, meeting Evanthe’s gaze. "Our suspicions were correct. They’re attempting to reach her," she confirmed.