Free Web NovelChapter 323: Chapter 323
Ragnar had been mostly silent since the physician left. The manor now felt unnaturally quiet after the morning’s ordeal and for the first time since Casilo arrived back, a fraction of the tension they all carried seeped free. ƒreewebηoveℓ.com
They had come directly from Casilo’s room, where the worst of the chaos had finally been subdued, his wounds carefully cleaned and wrapped beneath layers of fresh bandages. He still lay unconscious, pale and unmoving, but his breathing had evened out. Alive and stable. For the moment, at least.
Still, the full weight in Ragnar’s chest had not lifted.
Circe could not help the sidelong glance she cast in his direction as they walked. His jaw was set, expression carved from stone, eyes fixed straight ahead as though he were afraid to look at anything too closely lest it fracture whatever fragile control he was holding onto.
"You haven’t said anything since we left his room," she said at last, breaking the silence. She reached for his hand, slipping her slender fingers into his. "What’s on your mind?"
He did not pull away. He let her hold him, her touch the only pleasant thing amid the storm rage in his mind.
"I’m wondering why my friend nearly bled to death," Ragnar answered honestly. The words were blunt, and unvarnished. He felt the subtle change immediately, the way Circe’s grip tightened just the tiniest bit. "The only person who can tell me what truly happened is unconscious. So for now, I’m left guessing."
And Ragnar hated guessing but it seemed like that was all he had been doing lately. He preferred having the hard facts laid out in front of him.
His thoughts churned endlessly, scenarios folding over one another, suspicion and dread threading through every possibility. Yet even through the chaos, he could feel Circe’s gaze lingering on him, searching his face for what he wasn’t saying.
"That’s not all, is it?" she asked quietly. Her brows knit together, worry creasing her features. "This is also about what the physician said." She hesitated before saying, "Don’t tell me you’re actually considering locking me away when Casilo wakes, like he suggested."
There was more concern than accusation in her voice.
Ragnar did not look at her when he replied. His eyes remained forward, his tone measured, resolute. "I’m doing more than considering it."
Circe stopped short. Her breath caught, disbelief flashing openly across her face.
"You can’t be serious," she said. fɾēewebnσveℓ.com
"It’s that or I have him chained," Ragnar replied without hesitation. "Either way, he will not be getting anywhere near you in that state."
The words were delivered so bluntly, not a hint of humor on his face. He was being completely serious and from the way he spoke, so unflappable, it seemed like he had already made up his mind on the situation.
The worry etched on her face only seemed to deepen.
She shook her head, horror seeping into her expression as the implications sank in.
"He’s injured, Ragnar," she protested. "You can’t put him in chains like a—like a hound."
She pleaded with him to see reason. Instead, Ragnar met her stare with infuriating calm. He stepped closer, closing the distance until his presence was all she could feel. When he spoke again, his voice dropped to a tender whisper.
"I know why you think this is cruelty," he said gently. "But you have never seen a vampire in bloodlust. You have never seen what they become when hunger strips away all restraint and sense of reason." His eyes hardened. "I have and I know what will happen if Casilo is allowed to roam free like that. Even wounded, he is strong. Strong enough that it would take several of us to stop him if things spiral out of control. I refuse to let you anywhere near that mess."
He was protective to a fault. It was both his greatest virtue and his most dangerous flaw.
"But you never lost control," Circe said, clinging to reason. "You’ve been injured worse than him. In the arena, you lost so much blood, and you were still fine when you woke."
Ragnar exhaled slowly. "I am not a pureblood," he said. "Casilo is. I don’t rely on blood the way he does. I don’t go mad when I’m deprived of it."
She fell silent, absorbing this information. Ragnar watched the understanding settle in, piece by careful piece. He could not fault her ignorance, not when she had been raised in a kingdom that feared and despised everything to do with his kind.
His voice softened again, velvet-smooth, and sincere. It washed over her with a feeling akin to velvet sliding through her fingers. "I’m doing this for your sake as much as for his. When he recovers, he’ll be grateful that I spared him the burden of harming someone he cares about."
***
Casilo did not wake for another four days.
For most of that time, he drifted in a dark, restless haze, half-awareness punctured by flashes of sensation that made no sense. Heat, pressure and distant, gnawing pain that burned and throbbed painfully. His body healed quickly like the way it always did, knitting torn flesh even while he was still unresponsive.
When consciousness finally took hold, it did so violently. It felt like fire was tearing through him. The agony came upon him without warning, a savage, gnawing pain that bloomed in his chest and spread outward until it consumed everything else.
His throat burned as if scorched from the inside out, dry and raw and screaming for relief. The hunger was immediate and overwhelming, a soul-deep need that eclipsed pain, and even reason.
The word barely formed in his mind before it fractured into sensation alone. His fangs ached, pressure building along his gums until it throbbed with every beat of his heart. His muscles screamed as he tried to move, protesting the long stillness, but he barely felt the wound at his side at all. Compared to this, it was nothing.
