Claimed by the vampire prince

Chapter 74: Chapter 74

Circe hastened her steps to catch up with him, rushing to match his long, purposeful strides. He must have heard her footsteps approaching from behind, because he began to slow, then came to a complete halt in the middle of the hall.

He turned to face her as she finally reached him, his eyes briefly skimming over her frame. He couldn’t help himself. It was an involuntary action at this point, something as instinctive as breathing. The action on its own wasn’t lecherous in anyway yet it was unmistakably personal.

" Why aren’t you in there?" he asked, referring to the parlour she’d just emerged from. "Are you done with the appointment already?"

But as his gaze returned to her face, his words trailed off. He caught sight of the storm brewing behind her eyes.

"What do you think you’re doing?" Circe hissed, each syllable laced with a cold fury that curled around her words like smoke.

The rage in her tone made him pause. Circe was always angry at him for one reason or another, even his mere presence offended her most times but surely he hadn’t done anything recently to warrant this fresh wave of contempt. frёeweɓηovel.coɱ

"What do you mean?" His brows drew together in a confused frown.

Aside from their nightly game of hide and seek around the manor, he couldn’t recall anything that might have earned her wrath. He had kept his distance, honored her silence, done everything right or so he thought.

"This, Ragnar." She jabbed a finger toward the parlour with such intensity it was a wonder it didn’t set the air ablaze. "Inviting a seamstress over to take my measurements. Paying her to make me dresses. What comes next? Will you hire someone to spoon-feed me too? Since you’re so determined to control every aspect of my life."

Her words struck him harder than he expected. Ragnar’s frown deepened, confusion battling with irritation. He still didn’t understand what, exactly, had offended her.

"The dresses are a gift, Princess," he said slowly, keeping his voice calm, careful not to further stoke her fury. "Surely you’re familiar with the concept, given your station."

He was taking Nieah’s advice after all, he wasn’t going to antagonize her. But in the end, his efforts had the opposite effect.

"Why would you think I would ever want a gift from you?" she snapped. The anger in her tone was raw and unfiltered, the type spawn from generations of unfettered hatred.

Her words lit a spark in his chest. His jaw clenched as his eyes narrowed, darkening as he fought to control his temper.

"Because I saw that you needed them," he bit back, his hand gesturing toward her clothes. "Those aren’t garments fit for a princess."

The scowl she shot him was sharp enough to slice through bone. Any rational person would have backed away then, making sure to create enough distance away from her wrath. But Ragnar was beginning to realize that rationality had long since abandoned him, especially where she was concerned.

"A princess?" she echoed with a bitter laugh. "Of what kingdom, Ragnar? Because all I see around me are steel bars and a gilded prison."

The queen’s words replayed in her mind like a haunting echo.

A princess without a kingdom.

"I have no kingdom," she said, her voice cracking on the final word. "Not anymore."

Her eyes burned, and she blinked hard, furious at the stinging sensation she felt at the backs of her eyes. It felt like another piece of her soul was being chipped off and she hated it. She hated that he had unintentionally witnessed a vulnerable side of her, no matter how miniscule it was. He didn’t have the right to see her like that.

Circe turned abruptly, ready to retreat. She wasn’t even sure why she had followed him in the first place. To confront him? To start a fight? Whatever her intentions had been, it was clear now that it had been a mistake.

This marriage, this manor, these suffocating restrictions, they were all just carefully crafted chains binding her to Lamora. And Ragnar, no matter how well-meaning he sometimes appeared, was still part of that cage.

But as she turned, Ragnar’s hand shot out on instinct and grabbed her arm, halting her in her tracks. The touch startled her, cutting through her thoughts like a jolt of lightning.

She froze. Then, once she regained her composure, her gaze slowly dropped to where his fingers encircled her arm before lifting to meet his eyes. The look she gave him was venomous, brimming with contempt.

But something in his eyes had changed.

The frown that had darkened his expression just a moment ago had faded and what replaced it was something gentler, something close to understanding. His gaze held no trace of cruel intent or mockery. Instead, it revealed something that startled her even more than the touch itself.

He understood now. It wasn’t the presence of the seamstress or the fact that he commission dresses to be made for her that stoked the flames of her anger— it was everything else in between.

It was something they could no longer control.

It was her identity that was being stripped from her one layer at a time.

" I apologize, if my words or actions offended you," he said softly, his voice low and earnest. " It wasn’t my intention."

Circe could only stare, momentarily stunned by the unexpected sincerity in his voice. freēwebnovel.com

"What was your intention, then?" she asked, her tone noticeably less hostile now, colored by cautious curiosity.

"I wanted you to have clothes that made you feel comfortable," Ragnar said, holding her gaze. "Clothes that belonged to you. I wanted you to be able to finally burn those horrible things Irah gave you."

She searched his face, waiting for the inevitable flicker of insincerity or smugness. But there was none. Just honesty. The same kind of honesty he had shown when he opened up about the night of Luria’s murder.

"And Rowen?" she asked after a long pause.

Ragnar tilted his head, puzzled. "What about him?"

"If I get to have new clothes, then so does he," she said firmly. Her narrowed eyes dared him to challenge her.

He released her arm without hesitation. "Very well, then."

With that, he turned and walked off, leaving Circe standing alone in the quiet hallway, the faint imprint of his touch still lingering on her skin.