Claimed by the vampire prince

Chapter 256: Chapter 256

Author’s note: I apologize that this Chapter is coming late. I was unable to gain access into my webnovel app and the website to upload the Chapters earlier and as a result, my book has been removed from win-win. Which means even less promotions for me next month. It was devastating and I cried but it is what it is. Life goes on. I hope you enjoy the Chapters and continue to support this book in anyway you can. Thank you!

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Circe woke to the familiar, languid sensation of Ragnar tracing idle shapes into her bare skin. She lay sprawled on her stomach, the covers tangled loosely around her legs, her body still pleasantly heavy with sleep. When she glanced in his direction, she found him already watching her, and she stared back with half lidded eyes.

Pale shafts of morning sunlight streamed through the narrow gap between the curtains, spilling across Ragnar’s body and bathing his skin in a muted glow. He was naked, just as she was, his dark hair slightly mussed, his expression unguarded in a way few ever saw. Even with the fire burning low in the hearth, a faint winter chill lingered in the air, yet neither of them made any move to cover themselves.

She wasn’t sure when the smile curved across her lips, only that Ragnar noticed it almost at once and returned it with one of his own.

"Good morning," he murmured, leaning down to press a tender kiss to her forehead.

One thing Circe knew she would never grow accustomed to was the way he could ravish her body so completely one moment, leaving her utterly breathless and undone, and in the very next moment become the gentle man who made her chest ache with all his affectionate gestures.

"Good morning," she replied softly, still smiling.

Her gaze drifted over him, tracing every familiar inch of his body, and with it came vivid memories of the night before. Not only what they had done in his study, pressed against his broad oak desk amid scattered ledgers, but what followed after when they had finally returned to their chambers and surrendered fully to the privacy of their room.

Ragnar had made it painfully clear on the walk back that he was nowhere near finished with her, his body pressed firmly against hers, his heated looks promising carnal pleasures that she had been more than willing to indulge in.

Even now, a dull, lingering ache rested between her thighs, a reminder of everything she had allowed him to do. She didn’t need to look at herself to know her skin bore the evidence of their lovemaking, marks that Ragnar was all too eager to leave on her.

She shifted slightly, stretching onto her back, and Ragnar’s eyes followed the movement without shame. His gaze drifted down her body, lingering, before his lips curved into a slow, satisfied smirk when he undoubtedly took in his handiwork.

"I can barely resist you like this," he said, his voice low, eyes darkening. "With my marks all over you."

He reached for her, drawing her back against him until their bodies were flush. Heat bloomed where they touched.

Ragnar captured her mouth in a searing kiss, and she melted into it instantly. When they finally broke apart, her breathing was uneven.

Then a sudden thought struck her.

After only a few moments wrapped in his arms, she wriggled free, ignoring his immediate protest. Ragnar let out a disgruntled sound as she slipped from the bed, his hand grasping for her. Still naked, she crossed the room toward the dresser. She didn’t need to turn around to know he was watching her. She could feel the weight of his gaze following her every step.

When she returned, she stopped at the foot of the bed instead of climbing back onto it. In her hand was a folded piece of paper.

Ragnar glanced at it with mild curiosity, though his attention drifted almost immediately back to her bare breasts before she raised the paper higher. As she unfolded it and held it up, his gaze sharpened, drawn fully to what she was showing him.

This wasn’t something she usually did. She rarely showed anyone her drawings, if ever. Now, standing before him like this, willingly revealing something so personal, her pulse quickened with nerves. There was a strange vulnerability in letting someone see this part of her. Her drawings were woven into her identity, just as deeply as her archery or her lineage.

Yet beneath the anxiety was a quiet thrill.

She was happy that it was him who was seeing it.

The drawing was of Ragnar, showing only his face and shoulders. She had initially started the drawing in one of the pages of her journal, but halfway through she had realized she wanted something larger, something that could do him justice. So she had begun again on a fresh sheet of paper.

She had captured his sharp eyes, the scar that cut from his brow down across his cheek, and even that infuriatingly snug smirk she once claimed to despise.

The longer Ragnar stared at the drawing, the more his expression softened. A genuine smile spread across his face. freeweɓnovēl.coɱ

"You made me look devious," he said, clearly amused.

Circe couldn’t stop the peals of laughter that escaped her.

"Like the kind of man fathers warn their innocent daughters away from," she teased, mirth dancing in her eyes.

Ragnar moved in a blur. In one swift motion, he rose from the bed, hooked an arm around her waist, and pulled her down with him. She laughed as she landed atop the mattress, instinctively lifting the drawing high to keep it safe.

"Then it’s a good thing that I married a deviant." He murmured huskily against her neck, his breath warm and teasing.

Circe didn’t bother protesting the title.

After all, she had done more than enough to earn it.

Then, as if the last traces of his mirth finally ebbed away, Ragnar grew still. His smile softened, his laughter fading as his gaze lowered to meet hers.

"I love it," he said quietly. "Thank you. I will frame it and stare at it forever. I will show it to anyone who so much as glances my way, and I will tell them very proudly that my beautiful wife made it for me."

The words had their intended effect. They sank beneath her skin, settling deep in her chest until it felt tight, almost too full. Her pulse fluttered wildly the longer she held his gaze, heat blooming low in her belly.