Fangless: The Alpha's Vampire Mate
Chapter 247: Nightmares and Other Unwanted Guests

Chapter 247: Nightmares and Other Unwanted Guests

Riona shot upright, gasping, her hair plastered to her forehead like she’d just run a marathon in a sauna. The same nightmare again. Lately, it had been showing up more often than Donovan’s nosy comments—uninvited, annoying, and impossible to ignore.

She tried to steady her breathing, curling up on the bed, but her tear ducts felt dry, spent from too many nights like this.

"It’s a message from him," came the familiar voice from somewhere in the room, calm but insistent. "His unconscious still needs you. This is the only way he can reach out for help."

With no physical body, the ancestor could pop in whenever he pleased. Like an annoying roommate who didn’t pay rent, he’d been hanging around even more lately.

"Why don’t you ever believe me?" the Fallen One asked, their tone dripping with exasperation.

Riona froze for a moment, her breath hitching as her emotions churned. Then, her bafflement gave way to a biting scoff. Swinging her legs off the bed, she sat up and glared into the empty room.

"Gee, let me think," she said. "Maybe it’s because you’re literally the reason we’re in this mess in the first place! But sure, let’s trust you now because why not give a chance to another disaster, right?"

The Fallen One felt the sting of embarrassment—a rare emotion for him. Thankfully, Riona couldn’t see him blush, or she’d seize the opportunity to hurl another barrage of sarcastic insults his way.

She’d make sure to remind him, in excruciating detail, that she still hadn’t forgiven him for breaking the demon’s seal in Florian’s body.

"Look, I know I screwed up, alright? But I’m trying to fix it now," he said, his voice teetering dangerously close to groveling. "Doesn’t that count for anything?"

Riona didn’t even blink. "Yeah, sure. You do you," she said with all the enthusiasm of someone watching paint dry.

She grabbed a towel and wiped her sweat-soaked face with the air of someone who had bigger problems—like not murdering a celestial being before breakfast.

Then, without missing a beat, she began slipping on her protective clothing. The thick layers felt stifling but necessary.

Pulling it on, she glanced at the sunlight streaming through the cracks in the window. Most vampires would still be blissfully unconscious at this hour, safe in their dreamless slumber.

But no, not her. Nightmares had turned her sleep schedule into something resembling a poorly maintained clock.

As she fastened the last buckle, she muttered, loud enough for him to hear, "You wanting to ’make things right’ is adorable. Like handing someone a band-aid after setting them on fire. But hey, go off, hero."

"Ugh, come on! Give me a chance," the Fallen One said, his voice edging toward desperation.

Pleading wasn’t exactly his style, but he didn’t have much of a choice. It was almost painful to watch—well, it would have been if he had a body to watch in the first place.

He was stuck—literally and figuratively. Without a physical body, he couldn’t so much as lift a finger against the demon possessing Florian, let alone exorcise or kill it. He needed Riona. Badly.

Sure, he still had scraps of his former power—enough to play the role of the mystical, disembodied cheerleader—but actually fixing the mess he’d caused?

That required Riona’s hands, Riona’s strength, and Riona’s willingness to even look in his direction. And right now, her willingness was at an all-time low. Without her, his grand plan wasn’t going anywhere.

"It’s your problem, not mine," she snapped, her voice colder than the grave.

But that wasn’t true, and deep down, she knew it. The knot in her stomach told her so. This mess was her problem too.

Florian’s timidness, his fragile sense of self—that was on her. If she’d had a little more faith in him, guided him better, maybe he wouldn’t have felt so powerless.

Maybe he wouldn’t have lashed out in that reckless, disastrous way. Maybe Florian wouldn’t be—

"I know what you’re thinking," the ancestor cut in, yanking her out of her self-loathing spiral.

"Wow, I wasn’t even done roasting myself yet," she muttered under her breath.

"And I’m not letting you," the ancestor replied, its tone sharp, unyielding. "Don’t believe what the demon said. Not a word of it."

Riona clenched her jaw, the weight of her guilt battling with the ancestor’s words. Somewhere deep inside, she knew it wasn’t entirely her fault—but knowing and believing were two very different things.

She slammed the door with enough force to make the frame shudder as if the act alone could channel the storm of frustration boiling inside her. It wasn’t enough.

The emotions were too much, tangled in her chest, a suffocating lump in her throat. Slamming the door was like trying to stop a flood with a sponge.

"Leave me alone!" she shouted, her voice cracking under the weight of everything she wanted to scream but couldn’t.

"Listen," the Fallen One’s voice pushed through the silence, persistent and maddeningly calm. "You took him out of the palace because you cared. You’ve done everything for him. Even in Wintertooth—"

"Don’t you dare bring up Wintertooth!" she snapped, spinning around as if her fury could scorch him into silence. "I don’t even want to think about it. Have you conveniently forgotten what I did to the werewolves?"

"You saved the pups," the Fallen One countered, with the emotional subtlety of a hammer. "And you sacrificed yourself."

But the words weren’t his. The voice was different—deeper, achingly familiar, and so unexpected that it hit her like a slap to the face. She froze, every sarcastic comeback evaporating as her chest tightened.

That voice. It couldn’t be. Not after all this time.

She turned around slowly, tears already stinging her eyes, and gasped. Standing there was a man—a very large man—with dark, tousled hair and amber eyes that could’ve melted stone.

Well, used to melt stone. Now they just looked... hollow, like the years had beaten the charm out of them. His once chiseled face, which could’ve graced a statue, looked like it had gone a few rounds with life and lost.

"Thorin..." she whispered, the name barely audible as her knees threatened to buckle beneath her.

"I missed you," he said softly, his voice cracking just enough to betray the weight behind the words.

And just like that, Riona completely lost it. Tears, snot, the whole embarrassing package. Perfect. Because nothing says ’reunion of the century’ like an emotional breakdown while looking like you’ve just wrestled a swamp monster.

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