Free Web NovelChapter 384: Chapter 384
After Ragnar placed her upon the thick fur rug spread before the hearth, the warmth from the flames curling gently around her chilled skin, she felt him pull away. A minute later, he returned with a soft linen cloth. Kneeling behind her, he began to pat her damp hair, carefully soaking up the excess water from the heavy strands so they would dry more quickly.
The slow movement of the cloth against her scalp was unexpectedly soothing. It coaxed a quiet sigh from her lips, and her eyes fluttered shut for a fleeting moment as she surrendered to the sensation.
She remembered reading something strikingly similar in one of Mina’s books, and the memory alone sent a blush creeping up her neck and warming her cheeks. In that scene, the two lovers had sat naked before a hearth much like this one. Yet instead of dutifully drying his lover’s hair, the male lead had allowed his hands to wander freely over her body, tracing indulgent paths of desire.
When Ragnar finished, he set the cloth aside and settled beside her by the fire. He was now partially clothed, only from the waist down while the rest of him remained bare, his skin gilded in flickering amber light. Circe, however, was still naked save for the quilt he had carefully draped over her shoulders before sitting down. The thick fabric pooled around her like a fragile shield against both the cold and the intensity of his gaze.
He watched as she pulled the quilt tighter across her chest, her fingers clutching it instinctively. Her cheeks were flushed a soft, endearing shade of pink, and the sight of her like that set his blood aflame. His fangs ached now worse than they ever had before.
In the bath earlier, when he had kissed and nipped along the slender column of her neck, he had wanted nothing more than to sink his fangs into her flesh. Deep enough to break skin. Deep enough to taste her. It had taken every ounce of restraint within him to hold back, to silence the primal instinct roaring inside his veins.
Ragnar barely understood the strength of these sudden urges. He was only a half-vampire, not a pureblood. His cravings for blood were infrequent, manageable and never this overwhelming. He had never felt such an all-consuming desire to bite someone. Not before her.
Her blood called to him like a siren’s song across a darkened sea, beckoning him toward a sweetness he was certain would undo him. He could almost imagine the taste, warm, rich, uniquely hers. The thought alone tightened something deep within his chest.
It was not merely the urge to bite.
He wanted to mark her. Thoroughly. Possessively. So that anyone who so much as glanced at her would know she belonged to him. He had lived among vampires long enough to recognize that these feelings—this restless hunger, this strange and almost painful tightening in his chest were not typical of his kind. Which meant they must stem from his demon half.
"What’s on your mind?" Circe asked softly, her voice cutting gently through the haze of his thoughts. "You look lost in thought."
She looked at him with such unguarded innocence, as though she had no idea that her mere presence was the source of his torment.
His throat bobbed as he swallowed, his pupils dark and dilated.
"I was thinking about how wonderful it has been to be here with you," he said, his voice rougher than usual. "Away from all my responsibilities. I feel lighter here. More at ease. Which makes it even harder to regret coming."
The reminder lingered between them. Their stay was nearly over. Only one day remained before they would have to return to Amris and resume the life they had momentarily escaped, the duties, and the burdens that were waiting patiently for his return.
"Come here, my love," he murmured, motioning for her to sit between his spread thighs, despite knowing it was a dangerous invitation. Having her so close while his control wavered was unwise. Yet it was impossible for him to deny the need to feel her against him.
Clutching the quilt to her body, she rose gracefully and shifted toward him. Slowly, she lowered herself exactly where he wanted her, between his thighs, her back resting against his firm chest. The heat of him surrounded her instantly. His arm slipped around her waist a second later, holding her there as though the mere thought of letting go of her pained him.
"There’s something I’ve been meaning to discuss with you," Circe began softly.
He tilted his head slightly, listening.
"When we return home, I want to take on more responsibilities as the lady of the manor. I want to contribute to your house as your equal, not just as your wife."
Her words were earnest. She knew how much he carried, the affairs of the manor, the heavier duties he rarely spoke about, the way he shouldered her troubles as though they were his own. She had watched the tension settle permanently into his shoulders, the quiet exhaustion he tried so hard to hide. And she wanted to lighten that weight.
There had been a time when she despised the title of Lady of the Manor. When she had seen their marriage as a gilded cage and Ragnar as her jailor, holding the keys to her freedom just beyond her reach. But she no longer saw him that way. She had not for a long while now.
"Whatever you wish," he replied, a small smile touching his lips. There was no hesitation in him. If she asked for complete control of the manor, he would grant it without question. It was hers just as much as it was his and it was her right to have a say in its affairs.
A companionable silence settled comfortably between them after that. The fire crackled softly, shadows dancing across the walls as Ragnar continued to hold her close. And as Circe leaned into him, her thoughts drifted back to earlier that day, back to the visit with Bastian and his family. freeweɓnovel.cѳm
Bastian, who was close to Ragnar’s age, already had a full household.
It stirred something contemplative within her. Despite everything she had learned about Ragnar, there was one thing she had never thought to ask.
What did he think of children? Did he even want them?
Those delicate questions lingered quietly in her mind as she felt the steady rise and fall of his chest warmed her back.
They were married, and this was one of the first matters discussed amongst most married couples. Yet she had long since accepted that, given the disastrous way their union had begun, they would never be like most married couples.
The more she dwelled on it, the more the queen’s words during the hunt crept back unwelcomed to the forefront of her mind.
It would be tragic for a man like him to die without an heir to carry on his legacy.
The queen was the last person she ought to be thinking about, yet Circe could not silence the thought. What if Ragnar had been secretly longing for a child of his own while she had been deliberately preventing that very possibility?
