Claimed by the vampire prince

Chapter 112: Chapter 112

When Queen Nheera barged into her son’s chambers the following day, she was not the least bit fazed by the sight that greeted her.

Hairan’s fangs were buried deep in a woman’s neck, his lips pressed hungrily against her flesh as he drank from her vein. She had struggled at first,her resistance was written across the angry, crimson welts carved into his exposed forearms where her nails had raked across his flesh.

But her defiance had dwindled. Now there was hardly any fight left in her. Her arms hung limp, her head lolled weakly to one side, and still Hairan drank, pulling more and more of her blood into his mouth as if her fading life only sharpened his thirst.

It took a lot to completely drain a human dry. Contrary to popular belief, they were not the frail and delicate creatures most vampires assumed them to be. Feeding on them rarely ended in death, at least not immediately.

But Hairan seemed intent on testing the very limits of her endurance. He took too much, refusing to release her even as her skin paled to an almost ghostly white and her body sagged helplessly in his unyielding grip.

He did not react, not even a flicker in acknowledgment, when his mother forced her way into his chambers.

"So this is where you’ve been hiding all day." Nheera’s voice cut sharply through the silence. She paused then, her gaze falling on the half-conscious woman in her son’s arms. Her lips pressed into a thin, disapproving line. "You are going to kill her if you continue." ƒгeewёbnovel.com

The words came out with cool detachment, as though she were commenting on the weather rather than on the imminent death of the human in front of her. freēwēbηovel.c૦m

At last, Hairan withdrew. His fangs slid reluctantly from the woman’s neck, leaving two small punctures that wept sluggish streams of crimson. He released her carelessly, letting her collapse into a crumpled heap upon the cold stone floor.

He did not spare her another glance. Instead, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing away the last traces of blood.

"Is there a reason you are here?" His tone was clipped, dismissive.

Nheera’s eyes narrowed into slits. "Mind your tongue when you speak to me. One of these days, I will forget that you are my son and punish your insolence in a way you will never forget."

Hairan’s expression remained unreadable, cold as granite. "What do you want?"

"I heard you went to the king to have your suspension lifted," she said smoothly, circling deeper into the chamber. "You told him you wished to travel to Westeria."

Hairan’s brow lifted faintly. "I thought you couldn’t stand him. Why, then, are you suddenly trading information with each other?"

She moved further into the room, the folds of her gown whispering against the floor as she walked.

"The bond between your father and me extends far beyond marriage. He owes his throne to me, just as I owe my crown to him. Do not think for a moment that either of us could exist in these halls without the other." She stopped, fixing him with a sharp stare. "Tell me why you want to go to Westeria?"

"Surely I wasn’t gone long enough for you to forget that I have duties to Lamora," Hairan said, his voice laced with sardonic amusement.

"The truth, Hairan," Nheera snapped, her patience fraying. "Or I will ensure you never cross this kingdom’s borders."

He did not answer. He didn’t need to. The silence that stretched between them was loud enough. His eyes, however, betrayed him, the storm within them swirling with madness and barely leashed violence.

Nheera’s resolve hardened, and she shook her head fiercely. "No. You will not go. I will not allow it."

Her refusal had nothing to do with compassion for the lives that might be lost should her son go rogue. It was because she worried about how it would impact Hairan’s reputation. It could affect trade in the future and their relationships with foreign leaders if they began to view Hairan in a negative light.

Hairan’s lips curved into a chilling smile, thin and sharp as a blade.

"Good thing it isn’t your decision to make."

Her temper flared so hot she nearly struck him down where he stood. Instead, she jabbed a finger at him.

"Laheir has a hand in this, doesn’t he? It reeks of his scheming." Her steps carried her closer, each one deliberate, crossing the space where the human woman still lay discarded on the floor. "Whatever he told you, whatever promises he made, you cannot trust him. He is a murderer, a thief, a crook."

"You trusted him well enough once," Hairan shot back, his voice as cold as hers. "And you weren’t nearly so vocal when I asked to marry his daughter."

Nheera’s gaze hardened even further. "He will use you, break you into pieces, and spit you out."

"It’s nothing less than what you are capable of."

Rage filled her vision.

Before he could finish his retort, her hand lashed out in a blur. The slap rang through the chamber, a sharp, violent crack that echoed off the walls. Hairan’s head jerked to the side, his cheek blossoming with an angry red welt where her palm had struck.

The sting still burned across her hand, but Nheera hardly felt it. Her fury dissolved as swiftly as it had flared, leaving her staring at him in stunned disbelief. Her chest rose and fell in heavy breaths, as though she herself had been struck by the enormity of what she had done.

Neither of them spoke. The silence thickened, settling heavy around them like a storm.

At last, Hairan’s voice cut through, low and dangerous. "Did that make you feel any better?"

"You are not going to Westeria," Nheera declared, steadying her voice, clinging to her conviction as though it were armor. "You are needed more here, in Lamora."

"Then you had better pray Ragnar doesn’t get there first," Hairan murmured, his lips curling again into that unsettling smile.

Her brows furrowed. "What are you talking about?"

The question burned her tongue. She despised having to ask, and hated admitting ignorance.

Hairan’s eyes glinted with cruel amusement. "You are too busy fretting over irrelevant matters to notice what is right in front of you. Don’t you find it strange that he put up so little fight about marrying the princess of Westeria? Or why he fought so desperately to keep her under his control?"

He gave no further explanation. He didn’t need to. The gears were already grinding in Nheera’s mind.