Fated to the Alpha–And His Triplet Brothers-Chapter 285: Fake couples

*~Aurora’s POV~*

Darius was still standing three feet away from me, breathing like someone who just got slapped with a frying pan, when his eyes slowly drifted toward my blanket.

"Aurora," he said softly, "are you still cold?"

I nodded dramatically, shivering so hard the mattress squeaked. "Freezing. If I die from coldness, tell my mommy I loved her."

He panicked instantly. "No—you won’t die. Not on my watch."

Then he snapped his fingers with a loud, echoing crack. Three demons stumbled into the room like bowling pins, tripping over each other as they landed on their knees before him.

"Blankets," Darius ordered. "Soft. Warm. Preferably enchanted. Now."

The demons sprinted away like their horns were on fire.

I blinked at him. "Wow. Do you always make people cry when you speak?"

"What? No."

"You yelled ’now.’"

"I did not yell," he said defensively.

"Yes, you did. The house shook. A rat fainted."

He blinked. "We don’t have rats."

"Not anymore. You scared it away."

His face twitched again. Poor man was one insult away from combusting.

I leaned closer. "Husband?"

He stiffened like a corpse being possessed. "Yes, Aurora?"

"Your hair is messy."

He immediately ran both hands through his hair. "Better?"

"No," I said honestly. "It looks like a bird bath."

This man. I swear. The King of Darkness had never known true fear until this moment.

Before he could defend his dignity further, Rebecca barged right back in without knocking. She leaned against the doorframe like she paid rent there.

"Darius," she said, ignoring me, "your stupid witches are—"

"My witches?" He raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean my witches?"

"They were mine until you drove them insane with your emotional monologues," she said.

"Oh please." Darius rolled his eyes. "The only thing that drives people insane around here is your voice."

She gasped dramatically. "I hope you trip on a staircase."

"Leave," he snapped.

"No!" she barked. "This is my house too."

"No, it isn’t."

"Yes, it is!"

"You live in the southern wing!"

"It is still part of the house!"

I watched them argue like divorced parents fighting over who gets custody of the last brain cell in the room.

Finally, Rebecca turned to me, narrowed her eyes, and crossed her arms.

"So, Aurora, tell the truth," she said. "Are you really seven?"

I widened my eyes as much as possible. "Yes. My mommy gave me candy yesterday."

Rebecca’s nose twitched. "Where’s the candy?"

I put my hand dramatically on my chest. "In my heart."

Darius nearly choked on air trying not to laugh. Rebecca glared at him like she wanted to stab him with a spoon.

Suddenly, the demons returned with a mountain of blankets. Literally a mountain. They stacked them so high the top one hit the chandelier.

"My lord," one of them said, panting, "we brought... everything."

Darius gestured proudly. "See? You won’t be cold anymore."

I shook my head. "No. Those look itchy."

Demons: ??!

Darius bit his lip, thinking. "Okay. Bring softer blankets."

One of the demons cried. Actually cried. A tear rolled down his cheek.

Rebecca smacked her forehead. "You people are raising a spoiled demon queen."

I gasped. "I’m not spoiled!"

"You just rejected seventeen blankets," she snapped.

"I have sensitive skin," I said. "My mommy told me."

Rebecca glared at Darius. "See? She lied again."

"No, she didn’t," he insisted. "She is sensitive. Everything about her is sensitive. Her skin, her emotions, her memory..."

"My boredom," I added.

He froze. "You... you’re bored?"

"A little."

Darius’ entire soul shook. He pointed randomly at a demon soldier like he was choosing a victim.

"You! Bring entertainment!"

The demon blinked. "My lord... what kind?"

"I DON’T KNOW!" Darius shouted. "Figure it out! Juggle something! Do acrobatics! Dance! SOMETHING!"

The demon nodded fearfully. "Yes, my lord!"

He grabbed two candlesticks and began juggling them so terribly that one nearly flew into Rebecca’s face.

"STOP!" she screamed.

I clapped. "Again!"

Darius visibly melted at my approval. "See? She’s happy. Keep going."

The demon resumed juggling, now sweating profusely.

After ten agonizing minutes, Darius suddenly stopped everything.

He knelt beside me again. Too close. This man had no concept of personal space.

"Aurora," he said softly, "I know you are scared. But I swear to you, everything will make sense soon. You will remember me. You will remember us."

I blinked. "Do we have kids?"

He froze like someone unplugged his soul. "Not yet but—"

"I want seven," I said casually.

He immediately flinched. "Seven?"

"Yes."

"But you’re... you’re?"

"Seven?" I offered helpfully.

"Yes!"

I shrugged. "I’ll grow."

Rebecca howled laughing from the hallway. "DARIUS! You’re going to be a father of SEVEN! Congratulations, Mr. Emotional Basket Case!"

"GET OUT!!!" he shouted, voice cracking.

She slammed the door again.

Then he turned back to me, eyes soft and awkward in a way I never thought possible from a demon lord.

"Aurora," he whispered, "I don’t care if you think you’re seven. If you’re confused. If you don’t remember anything..."

He swallowed hard.

"I’m not losing you again."

I stared at him for a long moment.

Then I dropped the bomb.

"Okay, husband... can I sleep in your bed tonight?"

He literally malfunctioned.

His eyes widened. His jaw dropped. His whole demon aura flickered like a dying candle.

"I— you— we— bed— what— WHY?!"

I tilted my head sweetly. "Because I’m scared of the dark."

He melted. Fully melted. Puddle. Gone.

"Oh. Oh. Yes. Yes. Of course. You can— I mean— you should— it’s safe— I mean— yes."

Perfect.

Exactly the reaction I needed.

The more obsessed he gets, the sloppier he becomes.

The more emotional he gets, the more mistakes he makes.

The more mistakes he makes, the better my chances of defeating him.

And then his hand trembled as he reached for mine.

"You can sleep beside me tonight, Aurora," he whispered. "I’ll protect you. Always."

I smiled sweetly.

"Oh, husband... I know." I said while screaming inside.

Darius finally fell asleep.

It took a while. He kept shifting, trying to sleep closer to me, whispering "Are you still cold?" every two minutes, until I fake-snored loud enough to convince him I was deep in dreamland. After that, his breathing slowly settled. Deep, steady. Completely gone.

Perfect.

I gently slid his arm off my waist. His fingers twitched a little, reaching for me even in sleep. I froze. If he woke up, I’d be dead. Or worse—hugged again. But he stayed asleep, his face buried in the pillow, looking way too peaceful for a demon lord.

I stood up carefully, placing one pillow where my body had been lying. Just in case he reached for me again.

Then I moved.

Slow, silent steps across the room. I made sure the demon guards who usually lingered outside were gone. Darius had ordered all of them away earlier because I said they "breathed too loud." He actually fired two of them for "breathing crimes." So the hallway was empty.

Good.

I pressed my hand gently to my chest, feeling for the faint warmth of my magic. I whispered, "Hazel? Heather? Can you hear me?" The air flickered faintly, like a candle reacting to wind. Then a small spark tingled in my fingertips. A connection.

They were still linked to me.

Thank the moon.

I swallowed a breath of relief. If I could send even the smallest message, they’d know I was alive. I placed my palm on the wall, channelling the tiniest amount of energy. A glow formed under my skin—weak, but there.

Good enough.

"I’m safe," I whispered into the magic. "I’m alive. In the Demon’s High House. Darius—he—he thinks I lost my memory. Don’t come yet. I’m working on something. Give me time—"

A floorboard creaked.

I immediately shut off the magic. The glow disappeared. My heart jumped into my throat. Someone was awake.

A shadow moved at the far end of the hall.

I backed up, trying to blend with the darkness, but the figure stepped into the dim light—and my blood ran cold.

A demon soldier. Tall, built like a wall, horns curved back like a ram. His eyes glowed red, boring into me as if he’d been watching the whole time.

"What are you doing?" he asked, voice low and suspicious.

I forced a shaky smile. "Um... walking? Sleepwalking! Yes. That’s what I’m doing. I sleepwalk. You know. Because I’m seven."

He stared at me. Unimpressed.

Then his eyes dropped to my hands.

Magic residue was still glowing faintly around my fingertips.

His expression changed instantly—from suspicion to alarm, then to fury.

"You were casting," he growled.

I shook my head quickly. "No. No, no, no—this is my nightlight. My mom said I glow when I’m scared."

He took one step toward me.

"Casting is forbidden unless permitted by Lord Darius," he said coldly. "You are lying."

"No!" I stepped back, hands raised. "I wasn’t doing anything!"

He lunged and grabbed my wrist. His grip was iron.

"You will come with me," he hissed.

My stomach dropped. If he dragged me anywhere, I’d be exposed. My plan—everything—ruined.

He tightened his hold, pulling me toward the darker end of the hallway.

I tried to yank my arm free. "Let go!"

He leaned close, teeth sharp, breath hot against my ear.

"I’m taking you to the interrogation chamber."

And my heart nearly stopped.