Chapter Fourteen:Mother not so dearest(I)

Myra woke up feeling even worse than she had yesterday. Her head throbbed, her limbs felt heavy, and there was an unsettling ache in her chest. She sat up slowly, scanning the familiar hotel room. How...

Then, like a floodgate opening, yesterday's memories crashed into her. She had met King's mother. She had been on the balcony with him. She had felt his pain—so much of it that she… passed out?

Her stomach twisted. Damn. Had she really been that weak? Myra buried her face in her hands, frustration clawing at her. She hated her powers. Hated how they made her vulnerable. Hated that she could feel other people's pain as if it were her own.

How was she supposed to be a suzerain when she couldn't even control herself? How could she rule if the mere touch of someone else's suffering knocked her unconscious? The Darkness was a curse she could never escape.

A knock at the door broke her spiraling thoughts.

"Myra, are you awake? Can I come in?"

King.

She exhaled sharply. She wasn't in the mood to see him. Before she could answer, the door creaked open anyway.

Why did he even ask if he wasn't going to wait for an answer?

He stepped inside, carrying a tray. "Good afternoon, my little rose."

Afternoon? Wait. She'd slept that long?

Her stomach rumbled at the smell of soup, but she ignored it, staring at King. "Afternoon?" she repeated.

He nodded and sat on the edge of her bed. "I brought you some soup." He held out the bowl with a small smile.

Myra hesitated. It was a simple gesture, but she wasn't used to this kind of kindness—from anyone but her family. She took the bowl cautiously, her fingers warming against the ceramic.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked, studying his face.

His smile deepened. "Because…" He met her gaze. "I love you."

She blinked. What?

For a second, she thought she misheard him, but no—he looked entirely serious.

Then she laughed. Not out of joy, but disbelief. "Love?" she scoffed. "You can't be serious."

"I am." King leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "And I'll make sure you love me too."

Bold. Stupid, but bold.

She shook her head. "You're setting yourself up for heartbreak if you keep dreaming like this."

King didn't look deterred. He stood, stretching lazily. "We'll see. I'm patient." He smirked. "I'll be waiting for you downstairs, so hurry and freshen up."

And just like that, he left the room.

Myra exhaled sharply, staring at the closed door. Were all humans this stupid, or was it just him?

He didn't love her. He was infatuated. And even if he was serious, she could never love him back—not when her true mate was somewhere out there, waiting for her.

---

Ten minutes later, she slid into the car beside him.

"That was fast," King remarked.

She nodded, but the silence between them felt different now—heavier, after what he had said.

"We'll be heading back to Transylvania," he continued.

She nodded again.

King sighed. "Look, Myra, if you don't li—"

"I don't want to break your heart, King, so please don't love me."

He turned to face her fully, his lapis eyes meeting her warm brown ones. She looked serious.

Something flickered in his expression—hurt, disappointment—but it was gone just as quickly. He smirked, a gesture that made Myra raise her brow. Why the fuck was he smiling?

"You're cute Myra, cute to think I will let you go" Myra opened her mouth to speak but no words came out. What the fuck!

His smug, confident look on his face, oke that Myra was fighting the urge to punch of his face. Had he not heard her!

"I mean it King, I don't feel the same way" she said a bit louder, thinking he hadn't heard her the first time. His smirk widened, infuriating her even more.

"I heard you the first time, minou" he leaned in, their breaths colliding, his gaze drifted to her pink lips, then back to her eyes, "But I meant it too, I am not letting you go"

---

Meanwhile…

Thomas sat still, his eyes locked on the man in front of him. "Are you sure it was her?"

The man nodded.

Thomas closed his eyes briefly, a wave of relief washing over him. After all this time, he finally knew where his daughter was.

"But how did she end up in England?" James asked.

"She was seen with a human boy," the man reported. "I think he's her mate."

Thomas' eyes widened. Her mate?

Was that why she hadn't come home yet? He sighed, rubbing his temples. His little girl was growing up. He should have seen this coming.

Two days ago, he had received a letter from Dracula himself. The vampire lord had declared peace and, even more shockingly, had congratulated Thomas on raising an extraordinary daughter. She did it. Myra had succeeded in ending the war.

Pride swelled in his chest, and he wished he could tell her how proud he was.

"I know this boy," James murmured, holding up a photograph.

Thomas took it.

It was a grainy image of his daughter standing beside a blond-haired human boy.

"The boy went to great lengths to erase all pictures of them," the man added.

Thomas hummed. So Myra had a hand in that.

"I want you to find them both," Thomas ordered.

James bowed. "As you wish."

---

Back in Romania

Myra inhaled deeply as she stepped off the plane. She had missed this air.

After a two-hour drive, they finally arrived at King's manor. The exhaustion settled into her bones, but King seemed unfazed.

"Grandpa!" he called as they stepped inside.

An elderly man, seated in the living room with a cup of tea, looked up. He had the presence of someone who had lived long and seen much.

"I didn't think you'd arrive this early," the old man said, taking King's coat.

"Well, I have school on Monday."

At that, both men burst into laughter.

Myra frowned. What was so funny?

King glanced at her, smirking. "I hardly go to school."

Of course. Why was she even surprised?

"Grandpa, this is Myra," King introduced. "The girl I was talking about."

Myra gave a small wave.

The old man narrowed his eyes at her, studying her intensely before suddenly laughing. "So you're the girl who slapped my grandson."

Myra scratched the back of her head. Were they never going to let that go?

To her shock, the man stepped forward and pulled her into a hug. She stiffened. "Honestly," he said, pulling back, "I feel like you didn't hit him hard enough."

Myra blinked before breaking into a smile. This was nice.

"You two must be hungry. Go freshen up, and then come back down," he said.

They nodded and headed upstairs.

---

Later That Evening

Dinner had been incredible. Myra loved human food, and now she was curled up on the couch with Grandpa Zuzuki, flipping through an old photo album.

She grinned at a picture of six-year-old King in a sailor's outfit, then burst into laughter at a photo of baby King in a onesie.

But one image made her pause.

It was of King and an elderly Asian woman.

"Who is she?" Myra asked, pointing at the woman.

Zuzuki's face softened. "That's Yukina, King's grandmother."

Myra nodded.

Then, on impulse, she asked, "Mr. Zuzuki… do you know who Ren is?"

The old man froze.

A long pause. Then, finally—

"Of course," he said quietly. "She's King's mother."