Free Web NovelChapter 221: Chapter 221
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Circe lay curled beneath the thick covers, her body drawn tight as another wave of pain pulsed low and sharp through her abdomen.
She exhaled shakily, willing the ache to ebb, but it only kept throbbing, tightening her muscles until she had no choice but to squeeze her eyes shut. The room was dim, the heavy curtains drawn, and the lit hearth radiated a kind of dull warmth throughout that was normally comforting. But now, amid her discomfort, it was merely something she registered through a haze.
She barely heard the door open and a second later, it was followed by the soft click of it latching shut.
There was a soft shuffle as someone entered the room, their footsteps no more than soft thuds in the quiet room. Whoever it was, they were no doubt staring at Circe, who looked like a lumpy figure beneath the covers.
When she stopped hearing the sound of footsteps, she peeled the covers off her head enough to glance around the room. freewebnσvel.cøm
Ragnar was there with her and he had paused in the middle of their bed chambers. Even before her gaze found his, she had sensed his familiar presence and the weight of his assessing stare on her.
"Circe?" He called, his voice quiet. Concern softened the syllables, threading through each one with a gentleness she rarely heard from him unless it was directed at her.
Circe forced herself to shift, if only to acknowledge him, but the movement sent a fresh cramp twisting deep within her. She let out a low breath, sinking further into the mattress, unable to muster more than a faint hum in reply.
Ragnar set down the invitation he was holding on the dresser and a moment later the mattress dipped as he sat on the edge of the bed.
"What is it?" he asked, leaning closer. "What’s wrong?"
She swallowed. At first she didn’t want to answer. This wasn’t exactly the type of thing women often discussed with men, even their husbands. But there was a gentle note of worry in his voice and that alone had been her undoing.
"Just my monthlies," she murmured, her voice muffled beneath the cover. "It hurts."
Her monthly bleeds usually came and went without much fuss but this current one was worse for some reason, the pain almost unbearable. It felt like her body was attacking her from the inside.
She had woken up that morning feeling a dull discomfort in her abdomen and from that time till now, the ache has only intensified.
He was quiet for a moment, and Circe could picture the crease forming between his brows, the way his jaw clenched when he was frustrated by a problem he couldn’t immediately solve.
"Why didn’t you send for me?" He questioned, and his concern only deepened when he heard her wince in pain.
"I didn’t think there was anything you could do," she admitted weakly.
Ragnar brushed the covers back just enough to see her face. She blinked up at him, her lashes heavy, her skin a shade paler than usual.
Something in his expression softened further as he lifted a hand to sweep a stray strand of hair from her cheek.
"You should have still called for me regardless," he berated her quietly.
Ragnar eased onto the bed fully, gathering her carefully and moving her until her head rested against his chest. His arm slipped beneath her shoulders, the other across her back, creating a warm, solid cage that she instinctively melted into despite the pain.
Circe inhaled a shaky breath. The steady rise and fall of his chest beneath her cheek helped ground her, and though the cramps continued to twist inside her, the closeness offered a kind of relief of its own.
"Have you taken anything yet for the pain?" He asked when she snuggled deeper into his embrace.
"Nieah gave me tea earlier," she murmured after a moment. "It was made from raspberry leaf. She said it would help numb the ache eventually."
As Nieah brought her the freshly brewed cup of tea, she almost slipped Circe the herbs they both discussed about days ago.
"Eventually," Ragnar repeated with mild irritation, as if annoyed that the tea didn’t offer instant relief. He adjusted his hold, his thumb tracing slow circles along her upper arm. "Is there more I can do to help? Tell me exactly what you do each month."
He was not afraid to admit when he was out of his depth.
Oh to be a man, Circe thought solemnly. To never have to worry about pregnancy or deal with painful monthlies. Right then, that was Circe’s definition of bliss.
"You being here is enough." She whispered, and the words hung in the air between them.
His gesture was so sweet, that Circe almost laughed but then another wave of agony rolled through her and she let out a grunt.
Ragnar tightened his arms around her instantly.
"Breathe through it," he murmured near her hair. "Slowly. With me."
She tried, matching the cadence of his breaths. It didn’t dispel the pain, but it steadied her enough until it dulled into something less stabbing.
Minutes passed, it felt like the world narrowed to the warmth of his body, the quiet pounding of his heartbeat, the soft drag of his hand up and down her arm. Gradually, the sharp pulses inside her lessened entirely, softening into something tolerable.
"Your body is more relaxed now," Ragnar noted quietly.
"The tea is helping," she whispered, already feeling her limbs grow heavier, and looser.
"Good." He pressed a light kiss to the top of her head. "Rest if you can. Hopefully you will feel much better when you wake up."
Her eyes drifted shut before she could reply. The warmth of his hard body beneath her, the gentle rhythm of his breathing, and the fading ache, it all lulled her deeper into slumber.
Ragnar stayed exactly as he was, holding her long after her breaths became even, his hand still moving slowly in the same soothing pattern.
He had originally come here to inform her of the latest invitation delivered to him, as it had become his role in their relationship to do so. He informed her of every social event he knew she would be interested in attending, and he took pride in his newest role. But the invitation from Lady Taryn now sat forgotten on the dresser.
Nothing beyond the woman in his arms mattered.
