Free Web NovelChapter 291: Chapter 291
Ragnar lowered himself to the edge of the bed where Circe slept soundlessly. The chamber was quiet in the pale hush of dawn, the air cool and faintly scented with the remnants of last night’s extinguished candles. He watched the steady rise and fall of her chest with each breath she took. As he did, he allowed his gaze to rove over the gentle lines of her face, the relaxed arch of her brows, the softness of her mouth, the faint shadow cast by her lashes against her cheeks.
A loose lock of her hair had fallen across her face sometime while she slept. He raised his hand, the movement hesitant. His fingers hovered just inches from her skin before freezing midair, uncertainty rooting him in place. For a brief moment, he considered pulling back entirely.
When he finally allowed himself to touch her, he kept it feather-light. He brushed the lock of hair away from her face, the tips of his fingers grazing along her cheek in the process. Her skin was warm beneath his touch. Through the narrow gap between the curtains, he could already see the faint glow of the rising sun but his mind remained firmly trapped in the night before.
In the words spoken between them.
And more especially, in the way he had acted after his encounter with Irah.
He should not have behaved the way he did with Circe; that much was painfully clear to him now, examined under the unforgiving clarity of dawn. But last night was different. Speaking to Irah had dredged up memories he had spent years trying to bury and hide away. He had allowed the emotions they stirred to consume him whole.
Anger and hatred had been the first to surface, both of them equally violent, and corrosive. They had fueled his shadows when they lashed out at Irah, slamming her harshly against the wall.
But once he had dragged Circe away from there and into the carriage, the anger had begun to ebb. The hatred receded just enough to make room for something far worse.
Shame.
It settled directly on his sternum, heavy and suffocating. Shame that she had overheard Irah’s vile words. Shame that she now knew the truth—the darkest fragments of his past, the ways he had been broken and reshaped until he barely recognized himself. The weight of it had grown with every heartbeat, until breathing became difficult. And so, he had tried to push Circe away as a result.
After all these years, he should not have reacted so viscerally at the mere sight of Irah. She should not have held any power over him anymore.
Yet last night had proven otherwise.
When she had him in her clutches, she had not only taken his innocence and made him bleed for her sick pleasure, she had shattered his sense of self so thoroughly that he had believed he was nothing without her. That belief had rooted itself deep within him, convincing him that enduring her torment was all he deserved.
For years, he had been certain he would take that secret to his grave. He would never have trusted anyone enough to share it.
But he had and he had shared it with her.
Now, as he looked at Circe’s sleeping form, he was grateful that he had not succeeded in pushing her away.
His fingers lingered on her cheek, softly caressing her skin.
Her lashes fluttered and Ragnar’s hand froze instantly, though he did not pull away. He watched as she blinked her eyes open, disoriented for a heartbeat before her sleepy gaze settled on him.
She smiled and it was the prettiest thing he had ever seen.
Then her focus sharpened as she truly took him in, and he knew she was seeing the weariness etched into his features and the exhaustion lingering in his eyes.
Her smile faltered a fraction.
"You did not sleep all night," she said softly. It was not a question.
"No," he replied quietly, his gaze never leaving hers. "And it wasn’t for a lack of trying."
He did not elaborate. He did not need to. She understood him far too well for that.
Slowly, he let his hand fall from her cheek and took hold of her hand instead, clasping it between both of his as a grave sincerity settled over his expression.
"I want to apologize for the way I behaved with you last night," he said. "You were right—my anger was not because you left the carriage when I told you not to." His voice remained steady. "The matter with Irah was my burden to carry, and I should never have taken it out on you. I should have had better control over my emotions. I usually do, but after speaking to her, after the things she said, I just couldn’t. I am sorry for that as well."
Circe was already shaking her head before he finished.
"I forgive you for the way you acted in the carriage, and for how you spoke to me afterward," she said firmly. "But what I will not tolerate is you apologizing for what was clearly that woman’s doing."
Every time she recalled Irah’s words from last night, and Ragnar’s confession, something fierce and uncontrollable ignited within her. A roaring fire burned in her chest, consuming everything in its path until she feared there would be nothing left of her but ash.
The rage his story awakened was suffocating in its intensity, and yet she could not push it away.
She hated that anyone had been forced to endure what he had suffered, hated it all the more because it had happened to him, and because he had been only a child. She hated that Irah still walked free, untouched by the consequences of her actions, allowed to continue her life as though she had not destroyed another’s.
Ragnar nodded, a silent acknowledgment of her words.
Circe shifted and sat up on the bed, drawing closer to him. "I do not like what she does to you," she said simply.
Then her gaze sharpened into something fierce. "It will not happen again." fгeewёbnoѵel.cσm
There were many uncertainties in her life, but this was not one of them.
"Irah will never harm another boy," Circe said.
The certainty in her voice was staggering, edged with something sharp enough that warning bells should have begun to ring immediately in Ragnar’s mind. It should have been his first clue that she was already plotting something, that she had set her mind on a course he would not approve of, something reckless, something that would place her squarely in harm’s way.
Yet in that moment, none of it registered.
He was too consumed by the knowledge that she had not turned away from him. That she had listened to him. That she had forgiven him.
Relief loosened a knot in his chest he didn’t realize was still there. He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to the back of her palm. When he looked at her again, he smiled for the first time since the night before.
"You are stuck with me now," he said, the smile widening as the words left him.
"That sounded mildly threatening," Circe replied, though the corners of her mouth curved upward, warmth lighting her eyes.
"You are free to interpret it however you wish," he said. He leaned closer, closing the distance between them until his breath brushed against her lips. "Just know that I am yours forever," he murmured, voice low and certain, "and for that reason, you will never be able to rid yourself of me."
She tilted her head, moving closer still, her lips grazing his in a teasing brush that sent a shiver through him. "It has been a while since I last thought of ridding myself of you," she said softly. "Now, I reckon you would have to cleave me away, with how tightly you have me wound around you."
The kiss started slowly, filled with all the words they previously left unsaid.
He kissed her as though savoring the taste of her, as though she were the most decadent thing he had ever known, and she melted into him immediately. His hands held her close as his lips moved against hers, the world beyond them blurred and fell away. Thoughts of Irah, and of the palace faded into nothing, until there was only the two of them and the way she opened to him, inviting him to taste her more deeply.
When they finally broke apart, he did not move away.
He held her gaze, his eyes searching her face. There was something in his expression now that mirrored the ache blooming in her chest whenever he was near.
"I love you," he said, voice heartbreakingly soft. "I love you so much that I can scarcely breathe."
He tilted his head, his lips tracing a gentle path along her jaw and down the curve of her neck, each kiss a quiet confession. "Every day," he continued, "I wake and find that I love you more than I did the day before."
