Chapter 71 Perfect heir
Valerio sensed it before she could speak.
A warmth—faint, pulsing—radiating from her stomach.
An irresistible pull.
It wasn’t magic he recognized. Not entirely. But it called to him in a way nothing ever had.
Evyths hesitated, her words caught in her throat.
Valerio’s expression hardened instantly. The softness vanished, replaced by something cold, commanding.
He turned to the soldiers—and Octavio.
“Leave.”
The word fell heavy. Absolute.
No one questioned him. Not even Octavio.
The soldiers exchanged brief, uncertain glances, but they obeyed. Trust outweighed curiosity. One by one, they withdrew, boots scraping against stone, armor clinking softly as they exited the temple.
The doors shut behind them.
Silence followed.
Slow. Thick. Lingering.
Dust hung in the air—splinters of broken stone, fading traces of magic still clinging to the ruins of Raven’s temple.
Valerio turned back to Evyths.
He stepped closer.
Closing the distance between them.
His gaze locked onto hers, sharp and searching. He noticed everything—the hesitation in her eyes, the weight pressing behind them, the way her breath came slower… heavier.
And the faint glow from her stomach.
Her lips parted.
She was about to speak—
“Not here,” Valerio said quietly, cutting her off.
His eyes flickered around the temple once more, wary.
Raven’s domain was not to be trusted.
Even in ruin.
Even in silence.
Then, without another word, he bent and lifted her into his arms.
The world shifted.
And they vanished.
They reappeared in his private chamber.
The transition was swift—but not without consequence.
Valerio lowered her gently onto the bed, careful, controlled.
Evyths exhaled softly, a small smile touching her lips despite the faint wave of nausea that followed. The aftermath of the sudden flight lingered in her body.
The room was dimly lit, torches flickering along stone walls, casting shadows that danced but never intruded.
It was quiet.
Safe. Impenetrable.
Goosebumps rose along her skin as she rubbed her arms, trying to shake off the lingering chill.
Valerio noticed.
He always did.
Without a word, he lifted his hand slightly. A cloak slipped from his shoulders, drawn by an unseen force into his grasp.
He unfolded it slowly.
The scent of jasmine drifted into the air as he draped it over her.
Warm. Familiar.
Comforting.
Evyths inhaled deeply, her tension easing.
“Thank you… Valerio,” she whispered.
A faint smile ghosted his lips.
Gone almost as quickly as it came.
He sat beside her, taking her hands in his. His gaze never left hers.
“What did you want to tell me?”
Her heartbeat quickened.
She swallowed, steadying herself.
“Valerio…” she began softly. “I think we have created something… powerful.”
His brows drew together.
For once, he didn’t understand.
“Powerful?” he echoed.
She nodded faintly, her hand drifting to her stomach.
“Yes…”
Her fingers pressed lightly there.
Then she looked back at him.
“I’m carrying your child.”
Everything stopped.
Valerio pulled back as if struck.
His eyes widened—shock breaking through every layer of control he carried.
For a moment, he said nothing.
Evyths’ heart began to race.
Too fast.
Too loud.
Did he regret it?
Was he angry?
Had she just made a mistake?
Before fear could consume her, he spoke.
“You are carrying my child… Evyths?”
His voice was quieter now.
Uncertain.
She nodded.
“Yes.”
Silence stretched.
Then something changed.
Valerio reached for her hands again, more firmly this time. His gaze moved over her—her face, her hair, her body—as if seeing her for the first time.
As if understanding her differently.
“You’re carrying my child,” he said again, but this time there was something else in his voice.
Something lighter.
Warmer.
A grin slowly spread across his lips.
Then he laughed—soft, almost disbelieving.
Evyths blinked, caught off guard.
Relief flooded her chest.
Valerio pulled her into an embrace.
Close.
Tight.
His hand slid up her back, holding her as though letting go wasn’t an option.
He buried his face in her hair, inhaling deeply—berries, warmth, traces of Raven’s potions still clinging faintly to her.
The moment lingered.
Longer than expected.
Like something he had been holding back for far too long.
Like this… meant more than even he could put into words.
When he finally pulled away, his hands remained on her arms.
His gaze softened as he looked at her.
Really looked at her.
“I didn’t think this day would come,” he admitted quietly.
His fingers brushed a strand of hair from her face.
“I didn’t think I would have a child… with you.”
Evyths felt her chest tighten.
“For a moment, I thought you were angry,” she confessed.
“Angry?” he repeated, almost amused. “I could never be.”
She smiled faintly.
“Not in my wildest dreams did I think I would carry a vampire king’s child,” she teased.
A quiet chuckle escaped him.
“If you put it that way…”
The room fell still again.
But this time, it wasn’t heavy.
It was thoughtful.
Uncertain.
“What are we going to do now?” Evyths asked softly.
Her voice carried something deeper now—fear.
“Carrying a child is one thing… carrying your child is another.”
Valerio looked away.
Her words struck deeper than she intended.
She wasn’t wrong.
This wasn’t just a child.
It was a symbol.
A threat.
A shift in power.
War waiting to happen.
He turned back to her, sensing the anxiety in her.
“Do you trust me?”
“Always,” she answered.
But her voice was thinner now.
Fragile.
He squeezed her hands gently.
“I will take care of you. And our child.”
“Valerio, it’s not that simple—”
“I am King—”
“And that’s not enough!” she cut in, her voice cracking.
Silence filled the room.
The air grew warmer.
Tense.
“You have duties to Ravencroft,” she continued, her voice shaking.
“And I have duties to you,” he replied, calmer—but firm.
The words hung between them.
Neither willing to bend.
He understood her.
More than he wanted to admit.
If the elders found out…
If the council learned the truth…
It would not end well.
For her.
For them.
“Valerio…” she whispered, tears gathering in her eyes. “This is forbidden. Your clan will never accept me.”
His expression darkened instantly.
“Don’t you dare call our child forbidden.”
The edge in his voice was sharp enough to cut.
He turned away from her, moving toward the window.
The crescent moon hung low in the sky, casting pale light across the chamber.
Evyths followed him slowly.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” she said quietly.
“You don’t believe I would protect you,” he said without turning.
“I do.”
Her heartbeat betrayed her.
Loud.
Uneven.
“If you did,” he continued, glancing over his shoulder, “you wouldn’t doubt me.”
He paused.
Then softened.
Because it was her.
He turned fully, stepping back toward her.
His hands rested on her shoulders.
His thumb brushed away the tears on her cheeks.
“I will tear down anything that stands in your way.”
“I know,” she whispered, gripping his arms.
“You will stay with me,” he continued. “In Ravencroft. By my side.”
She shook her head slightly.
“As what?”
He didn’t hesitate.
“As Queen.”
The word settled between them.
Heavy.
Dangerous.
Familiar.
She stared at him.
He had said it before.
More than once.
And yet, it never felt simple.
“I can’t,” she said finally.
“What is stopping you?”
“My pack,” she answered. “The moon goddess chose me for a reason. I can’t abandon them.”
Valerio scoffed, turning away again.
Frustration burned through him.
“They sold you,” he snapped. “Twice. Without hesitation.”
Her heart sank.
“And yet, you would go back to them instead of standing beside me?”
She didn’t answer.
Because he wasn’t wrong.
But neither was she.
Davendale needed her.
“This is unbelievable,” he muttered.
“I’m with you,” she said firmly.
He turned back sharply.
“Prove it.”
The word hit harder than anything else.
He had never spoken to her like that before.
But this mattered.
More than pride.
More than power.
Her hands rose slowly, resting against his chest.
She felt it.
His heartbeat.
Fast.
Unsteady.
Human.
“I may not be your queen,” she said softly, “but I won’t leave you.”
Something in him broke.
Or softened.
His anger dissolved, replaced by something quieter.
A smile tugged at his lips despite himself.
“Nor will I,” he murmured.
He leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers.
They both smiled.
Soft. Relieved. Certain.
His hands cradled her face. Hers held his wrists.
Their breaths mingled.
Closer. Closer until his lips claimed hers.
The kiss was immediate.
Deep.
Demanding.
But not reckless.
It carried everything they hadn’t said.
Fear. Relief. Promise.
Her fingers tangled in his hair as she kissed him back, just as fiercely.
When they parted, her breath trembled.
“I want you,” she whispered.
This time, it wasn’t just desire.
It was certainty.
Valerio stilled—then exhaled sharply.
Control slipped.
But not entirely.
His hand moved to her waist. Then, gently to her stomach.
A pause. A reminder. His touch softened.
Reverent.
Then he looked back at her.
Still wanting.
Still choosing.
Always choosing.
They moved together toward the bed, slower now.
Intentional.
Clothes slipped away between kisses, between breaths, between quiet laughter and whispered names.
Every touch lingered longer.
Every moment held meaning.
The urgency didn’t vanish. It deepened.
And beyond those walls, war still waited.
But in that room nothing else mattered.
Not crowns. Not duty. Not prophecy.
Just him. Just her.
And the life they had created together.