Claimed by the vampire prince

Chapter 480: Chapter 480

The group rode hard through the fading light, the horses’ hooves kicking up snow along the familiar road that led to Ragnar’s estate. By the time the stone walls and grand structures came into view, the sky had deepened to a bruised purple. Torches already burned along the battlements, and the gates swung open before they even reached them. Someone inside had been watching and spotted them coming.

Ragnar dismounted slowly, favoring his injured leg. Gonan stayed mounted a moment longer, scanning the courtyard before he turned to dole out orders to his men.

"Find the head of the prince’s guard, he will see to the matter of your accommodations." Gonan said to his men and they all moved to do as he ordered.

Ragnar didn’t argue. He crossed the yard alone and as he did, he noticed that the ache in his chest was significantly lighter now that he was back home.

The heavy double door opened before he could knock. Circe stood there in a simple day gown, her dark hair loose over one shoulder.

For a second she simply stared at him, eyes wide, lips parted. Then a breath left her in a rush and she was moving, closing the distance in three quick strides and throwing her arms around his neck.

"Ragnar," she muttered against his chest as she held him a tight embrace. Her hands moved from around his neck, clutching at his shirt as if she feared he might vanish. "You came back. You kept your word."

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, breathing in her intoxicating scent.

"I promised, didn’t I?" he said, chuckling softly.

Circe drew back just far enough to look at him, her palms framing his face. She was smiling ear to ear. It was a bright, unguarded kind of grin.

"While you were away, the queen sent messengers here. They told me you were dead, and the letter she sent said you were killed by beasts." Her thumbs brushed his cheekbones. "I never believed it. Not once. Deep down, I knew you were alive and I was right."

Ragnar felt his throat tightened. He leaned his forehead against hers. "I’m sorry you had to endure that. No one should have to be told something like that, especially when it isn’t true."

"I’m just glad that you are alright and here now." She kissed him then. It was only a soft press of lips at first, then it turned deeper, more passionate as her fingers slid into his hair. He kissed her back with the same insatiable hunger, relief and want tangling together until all he felt was the warmth of her body against his.

They made it inside somehow, the door shutting behind them with a solid thud. Their focus was only fixed on each other and soon the presence of anyone else melted away.

In the privacy of their chambers, the touches grew more insistent, fingers tracing every inch of exposed skin. Circe helped him out of his coat and shirt, her hands lingering on the fading bruises and new half-healed cuts along his ribs and torso.

He traced the line of her jaw, then lower, over the gentle curve of her shoulder. When his palm settled over the still-flat plane of her stomach, where their child grew, something raw and protective flared in him.

She covered his hand with hers. She spoke before he could voice the question that sat at the top of his tongue. "Our child is growing stronger each day. Like his father."

"He?" Ragnar asked, lips curling into a smirk. fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm

"My mother thinks it’s going to be a boy and I think she might be right." She said.

Ragnar still hadn’t moved his hand from her stomach, a fact that sent a fluttering feeling through her.

"And what about you? Are you doing alright?"

She nodded eagerly. "I feel wonderful."

Pleased by her answer, Ragnar lowered his face to hers once more and allowed himself to get lost in her—the taste of her mouth, the way her breath would sometimes hitch and the soft sounds she made between kisses. In that moment with her in his arms, everything he faced recently felt irrelevant

Later as the candles had burned low, Circe’s breathing grew even as she fell asleep, Ragnar lay awake beside her and his hand still rested lightly on her stomach.

She had asked about his limp earlier, and he had told her about how he and his group were attacked by fenrars. He had been tempted to tell her the rest—about his encounter with Dougol’s men on the road and the sudden burst of flame from his bare hands—but the words had stuck in his throat. He couldn’t tell her yet. Not when she looked this peaceful.

He watched the rise and fall of her chest a moment longer, then quietly rose from the bed, careful not to wake her.

The pain in his leg made itself known again as he crossed to the window. Outside was dark but the lit torches made it that he could see the silhouettes of the guards patrolling the grounds.

The time he spent with Circe had quelled the worst of his riotous thoughts but now they had returned with full force. The king was gone, and he had failed to announce his successor before the court.

A power vacuum now yawned open at the heart of the kingdom. Nheera would make her move soon without a doubt. A person as cunning and opportunistic as her would never let this chance slip from her fingers without making the most of it. She would push Hairan onto the throne.

If Hairan took the crown, Ragnar knew exactly what would follow. His brother would hunt him down and along with anyone who carried even a drop of Zeriel’s blood outside the queen’s direct line.

Ragnar pulled on a fresh shirt and left the room quietly, closing the door behind him.

The corridor was quiet and by the time he reached the library doors, voices carried through the wood before he even touched the handle.

The library was lit by the low fire in the hearth and several candles. Gonan and Casilo were already there, engaging in what sounded like a heated discussion.

Gonan stood near the hearth, arms crossed, while Casilo sat alone at the wooden table.

"...too soon," Casilo was saying, his tone controlled but firm. "You are thinking like a spoiled nobleman, not—"

"And you are not thinking at all," Gonan cut in. "Every moment we wait is another moment she gathers support. You think she will sit idle? We can’t afford any more delays. At this rate, the queen will have turned all the nobles in the capital against his highness before we even take action." Gonan was saying. "We strike before the court swears fealty to her and her son. Take the initiative."