Carrying the Alpha’s Heir, Claimed by the Vampire King Chapter 09

Carrying the Alpha’s Heir, Claimed by the Vampire King Chapter 09

I didn’t go down to him that night.

He didn’t come up.

He just stayed under that streetlight until the sky began to gray, and then he was gone.

Three evenings later, he appeared at closing time.

Not for espresso. Not for flour. He stood at the counter, watching me wipe down tables.

“Have dinner with me.”

Not a question. Not an order. Something in between.

“Why?”

“Because you’ve eaten cinnamon rolls for dinner four nights in a row. My people report to me. I have

nutritional concerns.”

“Your people are watching my meals?”

“Monitoring. There’s a distinction.”

“There is absolutely not.”

“My house. Eight o’clock. I’ll prepare something containing actual food groups.”

He left before I could say no.

At 7:45, I was changing into my second dress.

Maeve leaned in the doorway. “The green one.”

“I’m not trying to impress anyone.”

“Sweetheart, you’ve changed twice. You’re impressing someone.”

I wore the green one.

Lucien’s house stopped me in my tracks.

I’d expected a gothic fortress. Black marble, iron gates, coffins in the basement.

Instead: an old stone house on a wooded hill, windows glowing gold. Warm wood floors. A crackling fireplace. And books. Everywhere. Shelves, tables, stacked along the kitchen counter.

“You read,” I said.

“Voraciously. I’ve had time.”

“I didn’t picture that.”

“What did you picture?”

“Someone who drains people in alleys.”

“I delegate that.” A beat. “Mostly.”

Dinner was simple. Fresh pasta. Roasted vegetables. Warm bread. He’d cooked it himself.

“My mother taught me,” he said. “She believed any man who couldn’t feed himself didn’t deserve to eat.”

“I like your mother.”

“She would have liked you.”

Would have. She’d been gone three hundred years. I didn’t ask.

We talked for two hours. Books. History. The absurdity of small-town life.

“The mayor tried to ban our cannoli from the winter market,” I told him. “He called them aggressively

Italian.”

“Were they?”

“Deeply. Maeve added extra ricotta out of spite.”

He almost laughed. I saw it happen, his shoulders moving, his eyes creasing, before he caught himself.

“What would you do,” I asked, “if you weren’t you?”

He considered it like no one had ever asked.

“Teach history. At a small college no one tras heard of.”

“That’s the most boring answer a Vampire King has ever given.”

“I’ve lived most of it. I’d be very good.”

Then he looked at me. Really looked.

And the air between us changed.

Not slowly. Instantly. Like a door I hadn’t known existed swinging open.

My pulse jumped. My skin flushed. Every nerve in my body turned toward him like a compass finding

north.

And I saw it hit him too. His pupils blew wide. His fingers tightened around his glass until it cracked.

He could hear my heartbeat. Of course he could.

I stood. “I should go.”

He walked me to the door. Opened it. But as I passed, he spoke, barely above a whisper.

“I’ve known since that night on the sidewalk.”

I stopped.

“When Blackwood stood too close and you were about to shatter, something in me recognized you. I haven’t felt my own heart in three hundred years, Elara.” His voice toughened. “When you’re near me, I swear

I can feel it trying to beat.”

“Lucien-”

“I won’t chase you. No guards at your bedside, no threats, no ultimatums. But I need you to know that whatever this is, it’s real.” He held my eyes. “And I have nothing but time. I’ll wait.”

I drove home with tears sliding down my face.

Not from sadness.

From the terrifying discovery that someone could want me without trying to own me.

And from the one thought I couldn’t stop hearing, all the way home:

Kieran had promised me forever and couldn’t give me one minute.

Lucien actually had forever.

And he was offering to spend it waiting.