Claimed by the vampire prince

Chapter 126: Chapter 126

Circe awoke to the soft murmur of birds outside and the gentle warmth of sunlight spilling across her face. For a long moment, she didn’t move.

She barely even breathed, her mind caught in that fragile haze between sleep and consciousness. There was a dull ache pulsing behind her eyes, the kind that made her feel as though her skull had been stuffed with cotton.

The air was too warm. The pillow beneath her cheek felt too soft. Even her thoughts moved sluggishly, tangled and heavy, like they were wrapped in silk and smoke.

When she finally stirred, the faint ache behind her temples flared sharply, and she winced, pressing a hand to her forehead.

Her eyes snapped open.

Ragnar sat in a chair close to the bed, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. He was dressed differently from the night before in a dark tunic, sleeves rolled to his forearms, posture too composed for this early hour.

His eyes were steady and impossibly sharp, fixed on her the instant she moved.

"Good morning," he said, his voice low but deceptively calm, that quiet tone that always carried more weight than it should.

Circe blinked, her mind still foggy. "Morning?" she echoed, squinting at him as she slowly pushed herself upright. "You’re still here."

"Someone had to make sure you didn’t roll out of bed and break your pretty neck," he replied without missing a beat.

"Charming," she muttered dryly, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face and gently patting down the tangled mess that was now her hair.

Her skull throbbed harder when she spoke, and her mouth felt parched. "You could have at least brought me water instead of sitting there staring like a gargoyle."

"I did," Ragnar said evenly, nodding toward the bedside table. "You just haven’t noticed it yet."

Circe turned her head, spotting the glass waiting for her. She eyed it suspiciously, then pressed her lips together, realizing she had no more witty retorts left in her.

Turning away from him, she tried to focus on something else, anything to distract her from the strange warmth that lingered under her skin at his thoughtful gesture.

But when she shifted to reach for the glass, a wave of dizziness swept through her. The room tilted slightly, forcing her to clutch the edge of the blanket for balance.

"Careful," Ragnar said, his voice sounding closer now, a thread of concern woven through his calm tone.

His large hands were on her shoulders a moment later as he gently urged her back against the pillows. His touch was careful, firm but never forceful.

She blinked up at him through the haze.

That was one of the side effects of consuming fae wine. It usually left people very disorientated afterwards, making their minds sluggish.

She frowned, squinting at him as though trying to piece together a half-finished puzzle.

" I was in the library last night. Before coming back here." Circe said, slowly recalling bits and pieces of the events of last night.

"You were," he said, leaning back slightly, the corners of his mouth twitching faintly. "Balancing on a ladder like a cat with no sense of self-preservation. I told you to get down."

Circe groaned softly and pressed her palms to her face. "Gods, tell me I didn’t fall."

Surely her body would have been sore or worse if she had.

"No," Ragnar said. "You climbed down with all the grace of a dancer. Then proceeded to crash right into me."

Her hands dropped just enough for him to catch the mortification in her eyes. "You caught me, then?"

"I did," he replied simply, lips curving into a small smirk. "Several times, actually. You were quite unsteady on your feet."

Circe groaned.

This was what he loved the most about their banter, it forced him to exist in just the here and now, giving him the chance to momentarily forgo all that weighed heavily on his mind.

He would take her barbed comments and sharp glares over facing the reality that awaited him outside this fragile bubble that surrounded them. freeweɓnovēl.coɱ

"Unsteady," Circe repeated slowly, lowering her hands to give him a flat look. "That’s a very generous way of saying drunk, isn’t it?"

Ragnar’s smirk deepened. "I was being polite."

"Don’t," she said dryly. "It doesn’t suit you."

He chuckled under his breath, a deep, quiet sound that seemed to fill the space between them. It only made her scowl deepen.

She pushed herself upright again, the blanket slipping down to her waist. The motion made her head spin, and she bit back the soft groan that threatened to escape. "What on earth was in that wine?" she muttered.

Ragnar’s smile wilted instantly.

"Fae wine," Ragnar said, his voice turning grim.

Circe froze, her expression snapping from irritation to confusion. "Fae wine?"

He nodded once. "You were served fae wine last night."

That sobered her faster than a bucket of ice water. "And you’re certain?"

"I checked it myself," he said.

Circe exhaled slowly, pressing her fingertips to her temples. "So someone tried to poison me with one of the most expensive and rarest drinks known to man," she said wryly. "Should I be flattered?" freewebnoveℓ.com

Ragnar didn’t share her humor. His jaw tightened, eyes hardening. "This isn’t a joke, Circe."

She was taking the news better than he had expected.

"It’s either I laugh or scream," she said lightly, even as a faint tremor of unease crossed her features. "And I’m trying to spare your ears."

He studied her carefully for a moment, his gaze unreadable. "You could have died."

She faltered, just barely. "But I didn’t."

"No," he said quietly. "You didn’t." And he would never let that happen to her.

Her brows arched slightly. "Is this the part where I thank you for rescuing me from myself?" she asked, skeptically.

Just a few months ago, Circe would have chaffed against the very thought of having to thank him for anything. She hated him after all. But right now, for some odd reason, she found that she didn’t mind it much. Especially when the gratitude was well earned.

"If you wish," Ragnar said with a faint smile. "But your gratitude will always be greatly appreciated."

She snorted softly. "Fine. Thank you for saving me from my own reckless consumption of deadly liquor."

He gave her a look that hovered somewhere between amusement and something deeper, something she couldn’t quite name.

"That’s the most insincere thank you I’ve ever heard in my life," he said.

Circe swung her legs over the edge of the bed, ignoring the dizziness that still threatened to pull her under. Ragnar was immediately beside her again, steadying her when she wobbled.

She scowled and waved him off. "I’m fine."

"You said the same thing last night," he reminded her smoothly, "right before announcing that the room felt soft."

Circe froze mid-motion, then turned to him with growing horror. "I said that?"

"You did."

She groaned, dragging a hand down her face. "What else did I say?"

He hesitated, just long enough for her to notice.

"Ragnar," she said sharply. "What else did I say?"

He let go of her and folded his arms across his chest. "Something about how I look horrendous up close."

Her head snapped toward him, incredulous. "I did not."

"Oh, you did," he said. "Quite adamantly, too."

The memory of her saying that still irked him more than he was willing to admit.

"Gods above," she muttered, mortified. "Please tell me I didn’t say anything worse."

"Well," he drawled, "you also mentioned that if you closed one eye and squinted very hard, you could ’see the appeal.’"

Circe stared at him, eyes narrowing. "You’re enjoying this far too much."

He also noted that she didn’t bother denying this.

"Immensely," he said without shame.

She groaned again. "I am never drinking wine again."

"Duly noted," he said, a faint trace of laughter in his tone.

When she finally looked up again, Ragnar was watching her with a softness that made her heartbeat falter for just a second. The tension between them hung in the air, fragile, and dangerous.

Circe cleared her throat, looking away. "If you tell anyone about last night, I will personally make sure you regret it."

"I wouldn’t dream of it," he said smoothly. "Though it’s a shame. You were rather charming."

Her glare could have melted steel.

"Out," she ordered, pointing toward the door.

She didn’t care that she was essentially kicking him out of his own room.

Ragnar inclined his head, that faint smirk still tugging at his lips as he stood. "As you wish."

When the door closed behind him, Circe exhaled a long, weary sigh and fell back onto the bed.

Her head still ached and her pride even more so.

But beneath the embarrassment and the haze, she couldn’t ignore the faint warmth that lingered from the memory of his arms around her, steadying her.

She groaned into her pillow. "Gods," she muttered, her voice muffled and despairing, "what have I done?"