Claimed by the vampire prince

Chapter 132: Chapter 132

The clearing was quiet that morning, save for the gentle hum of the forest and the soft whistle of the wind threading through the trees. Sunlight filtered through the canopy in broken patches, spilling warmth over the mossy ground where Circe stood, bow in hand.

Beside her, Rowen squinted up at the target several paces away, his fingers fumbling with the string of his bow.

Hanging in front of them on a low, weathered tree branch was a painted wooden target.

"Relax your shoulders," Circe said gently, stepping closer to him. Her tone was calm and soothing. "You’re too tense. You’ll never hit the target if you treat the bow like it’s going to bite you."

Rowen laughed nervously, his brown curls bouncing as he tried again.

"Now, pull the string back. Slowly."

Rowen obeyed, his arms trembling slightly as he drew the bowstring. The arrow wobbled, threatening to slip from his fingers. Then he released it, and it flew and landed harmlessly on the ground a few feet ahead.

Behind them, Ragnar stood a few paces away, curiously watching the lesson unfold.

He hadn’t said a word since they started, merely crossing his arms and leaning against a nearby tree as he observed.

For some odd reason, he had come expecting a short, chaotic lesson with Rowen growing frustrated, Circe snapping. Perhaps the lesson ending in tears or a flying arrow gone astray.

But that wasn’t the case at all.

What he saw instead held him utterly still.

Circe’s voice was low and coaxing, almost melodic as she guided her brother through each movement. Her patience shone through every time she corrected her brother on his form.

Whenever Rowen faltered, she corrected him without sharpness, her words filled instead with quiet encouragement.

At first, Ragnar assumed that she was oblivious to his presence nearby, but he was proven wrong a second later when she turned and glanced straight at him, as though she had known where he was from the start.

Circe knew, and yet she was letting him see a side of her that she hid from everyone else. This, of course, did nothing good for the delusional part of his mind.

Rowen released the string, and the second arrow flew a bit higher this time but ultimately landed in the grass like the first shot.

Rowen’s face fell. "I did it wrong again."

She shook her head, crouching beside him once more. "No, you didn’t. You hit the ground exactly where you aimed. Next time, you’ll aim higher."

That earned her a small, determined smile.

Ragnar found himself smiling too, almost involuntarily.

"Try again," she said. "This time, draw back slowly like this." She demonstrated, the movement fluid and precise, her body aligning with the bow as though they were one. Rowen mimicked her, eyes filled with determination.

Ragnar found himself strangely captivated, not just by her form or skill, but by her tenderness. Circe Valdris, who met him in every argument like a storm breaking against rock, was being patient. Kind even.

He never thought her capable of such gentle restraint.

She was different when she was with her brother, Ragnar realized. With Rowen, she was loving and playful.

"Like this?" Rowen asked, looking up at her for approval.

"Exactly like that," Circe said with a smile that softened her entire face. "Now when you release, don’t think about hitting the target. Just breathe, and let it go."

The arrow flew but farther this time. It missed the target entirely and hit the trunk of the tree it was attached to.

"I did it! I hit something!" Rowen exclaimed, his grin wide and triumphant.

Circe laughed, the sound bright and unrestrained.

"Yes, you did." She ruffled his hair, and Rowen glowed under her praise.

"You make a good teacher," Ragnar said from where he stood, his tone light. "You handled him so well, I almost didn’t recognize you."

Circe glanced at him over her shoulder, eyes glinting. "I’ll believe it when I hear it without the surprise in your voice."

He chuckled under his breath, pushing off the tree to move closer. "You’re patient with him."

"Of course I am," she replied simply. "He is still a child, and he’s learning. Patience is required."

He hummed thoughtfully. "Strange. I was under the impression you weren’t the patient type."

Circe tried to look away from him but found that she couldn’t. Something unspoken passed between them, an invisible current thrumming in the still air. "Only when I’m dealing with adults. Children, on the other hand, deserve gentleness."

Her words carried a quiet conviction that gave him pause.

Thankfully, Rowen nudged her to get her attention. It was only then she was able to turn away but her thumping pulse betrayed just how much that small interaction affected her.

Ragnar watched her help Rowen notch another arrow, the easy grace of her movements, the soft cadence of her voice as she encouraged him.

How many sides were there to this woman, Ragnar wondered. And how many of them was he still yet to see?

Why did it feel like he was only allowed to glimpse the surface until now?

"Alright," Circe said. "This time, keep your elbow steady and your gaze fixed on the target. Don’t look away, no matter what."

Rowen took a breath and did as she said. He released the string, and the arrow flew straighter this time before landing just shy of the wooden target.

Circe clapped once, laughing. "That’s it! See? You’re already improving."

Ragnar found himself caught off guard again and as he stood there watching her beam at her little brother, a quiet truth dawned on him.

He wanted to learn everything about this woman, down to the most minute, insignificant details.

Circe turned to face him then, that same bright smile still on her lips. For a moment, Ragnar forgot to breathe.

"Are you just going to stand there? Aren’t you going to tell Rowen how impressive his shot was?" she asked.

Ragnar blinked, recovering his composure.

"It was adequate," he said, feigning seriousness.

Circe narrowed her eyes at him. "Adequate?"

"He barely grazed the target."

Rowen giggled, and Circe glared.

"Ignore him, Rowen. He wouldn’t know a good shot if it came and struck him in the eye."

But when Ragnar smiled, a rare soft curve of his mouth that lit up his eyes, it strangely made something in her chest stumble.

"Alright, Rowen," she said suddenly. "Go fetch all the arrows for me, would you?"

"Okay," Rowen said eagerly, running off to do as he was told.

As his footsteps grew more distant, silence settled between her and Ragnar.

Circe exhaled, brushing a hand over her hair. "You know," she began, "you could at least pretend not to be hovering."

He took a slow step closer, dried leaves crunching under each footfall. "I wasn’t hovering," he said, his voice low. "Merely observing from a safe distance."

But no one would describe the way he had drifted closer to her as safe.

The sunlight caught his features, sharp and softened all at once, and she suddenly realized that he was closer than she’d intended to let him get.

He was so close that she could see the flecks of gold in his brown eyes.

Her pulse quickened.

Ragnar’s gaze lingered, thoughtful. That smug smile of his was nowhere to be found and now he just looked...curious.

And maybe a little undone.

Those were not the things Circe ought to be noticing, were they?

"You are too close." She wanted to snap at him, but the words came out softer and breathier than she expected.

It felt like she had repeated those same words a dozen times in the past week.

Why was he so fond of trampling over the invisible line she drew between them and, most especially, when did his presence start to have such an effect on her?

Circe loved her personal space, but Ragnar also loved Circe’s personal space.

"Am I?" he asked, like he didn’t already know that. There was a teasing lilt in his words, one he didn’t bother to hide. Only this time, it carried the edge of a man utterly transfixed.

"Yes," Circe said, deadpan. "You either move, or I will do it for you."

"Do you want to know what I think?" he said just as her hands landed on his chest to shove him back, his words wrapping around her like a sensual caress. "I think you are just looking for another reason to touch me." fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm

Circe rolled her eyes, trying hard to mask how off-kilter he had managed to make her feel.

"I’m not looking for a reason to do anything. You act like you were raised by wolves, and you are infuriating." She said. "You don’t understand boundaries, and you are so overbearing and... and..."

Not once did she mention that he looked horrendous in her rant. Shallow as he was, that was what Ragnar chose to cling onto.

Ragnar’s smile only widened the more she listed out his faults. It took her a moment to notice it as well, and when she finally did, she glared.

"You are impossible," she huffed.

"I’m sure you have said that at least once already," he teased.

"Then I will say it again."

And through all that, she somehow forgot that she was still touching him.