Claimed by the vampire prince

Chapter 274: Chapter 274

Ragnar fell silent, his fingers tracing a slow, absent line along the seam of her coat.

"If you could choose," he asked finally, his tone measured but intent, "where would you want to go first?"

She considered that carefully. "There are too many choices," she said. "But maybe somewhere warm. Somewhere near the sea. A place with warm weather all year round."

"I hope to take you there one day," Ragnar said earnestly. "We could bring Rowen, if you wish. But most of the time, it would just be us."

Circe turned her head then, surprise flickering across her face before softening into something else entirely. He could see the thought taking root, the possibility unfolding in her mind.

He already saw it clearly himself, the long roads stretching ahead, distant shores, unfamiliar skies. He imagined her laughter carried by sea wind, her wonder renewed in places far beyond Lamora’s borders. The desire for it settled deep in his chest, steady and resolute.

Once the threat to her safety was gone, once the dangers surrounding her were truly ended, he would make it happen. He was certain of that. freёwebnoѵel.com

Circe reached up and laced her fingers with his where his hand rested against her shoulder. She squeezed once, gently, then relaxed again, her head settling more comfortably in his lap.

They lay there together as the afternoon wore on, the clouds drifting lazily overhead. For now, there was no need to decide anything more. The future could wait.

They lingered on the blanket long after the food was gone, content to simply exist in each other’s presence. Circe remained stretched along the soft blanket, her body relaxed, her head still resting on Ragnar as though it belonged there. His hand traced slow, absentminded paths along her arm. He took a lock of her hair and played with the ends, twisted it around his fingers. Each touch felt unhurried, and intimate.

Neither of them felt the need to speak.

The silence between them was easy, and comfortable, filled only by the distant rush of the river winding through the valley below and the low whisper of wind threading its way through bare winter branches. It was the kind of quiet that asked for nothing, that wrapped around them like a shared secret.

Time slipped past without either of them even noticing.

It wasn’t until the quality of the light began to change that Circe stirred. A subtle shift passed through her, her languid ease giving way to alertness as her gaze drifted skyward once more. The sun had begun its slow descent, the pale winter light deepening into richer tones that spilled across the horizon.

She sat up slowly, drawn forward by the sight as though pulled by an invisible thread.

Burnt orange bled into soft pinks and muted gold, the clouds looking as though they were catching fire one by one. The valley below glowed briefly, suspended between day and night.

"It’s beautiful," she murmured, awe softening her voice.

"Yes," Ragnar replied quietly. "It is."

But he wasn’t looking at the sky.

His gaze rested on her instead, the way the warm light caught in her eyes, turning them molten, the way wonder softened her features and stilled her breath. When Circe turned and noticed his attention, something unspoken passed between them. Her lips curved into a smile.

The moment, however, was fleeting.

As the sun dipped lower and the air grew sharper with cold, the footman approached, already moving to gather the blankets and basket with practiced efficiency. Circe rose reluctantly, lingering for a heartbeat longer than necessary. The footman ensured everything was packed away, his movements swift.

The last of the light faded quickly, shadows stretching long across the valley as dusk settled in.

Ragnar offered his hand again, and Circe took it without hesitation. His grip was gentle as he guided her back toward the waiting carriage, keeping her close as the world slipped fully into twilight.

Once inside, she did not return to the seat opposite him.

Instead, she settled beside him, close enough that their shoulders pressed together, warmth bleeding through layers of fabric. The carriage lurched into motion, wheels crunching softly against dirt as they began the return journey.

Circe leaned forward at once, her intent clear. She pressed a soft, tender kiss to his lips. It was meant to be brief, nothing more than affectionate peck.

Ragnar caught her face just before she could pull away.

His hands were cold against her cheeks as he deepened the kiss without a word, drawing her closer. The world outside the carriage ceased to matter. The rhythmic creak of the wheels, the gentle sway of the ride, the encroaching darkness, all of it faded beneath the graze of his lips against hers.

Circe lost track of time entirely, breath catching as she kissed him back with growing urgency. The sensation was intoxicating, heady enough to leave her light and breathless, as though she could get drunk on it alone.

By the time the carriage rolled through the iron gates of the estate and came to a smooth stop before the manor, both of them were breathing hard. Their foreheads hovered close, nearly touching, before they finally pulled apart. fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm

Torches burned along the grounds, casting flickering light along the path.

Ragnar stepped down first, then turned and lifted Circe down with ease, his hands firm at her waist. They barely made it past the grand foyer before a guard approached them, halting their progress. An envelope rested in his gloved hands.

The guard bowed low before them in greeting.

"This was delivered earlier this afternoon, your highness," he said, extending it toward Ragnar. "A rider from the capital brought it. He identified himself as one of the palace guards."

Ragnar accepted the envelope and opened it at once. His expression shifted as he scanned the contents, the faintest crease forming between his brows.

Circe noticed immediately.

"What is it?" she asked, concern threading through her voice.

He folded the invitation and lowered his hand. "It’s from the queen," he said evenly. "She is hosting a banquet to announce my brother’s betrothal and she is demanding both our attendance."

The warmth of the afternoon still lingered in Circe’s chest, but now something colder settled beneath it.