Avenging Luna
Chapter 152: She’s Is A vampire??

Chapter 152: She’s Is A vampire??

Chase POV

As we moved through the grand halls, the tension was thick enough to slice with a blade. Every guard and servant we passed cast furtive glances at Leila, their instincts undoubtedly catching the scent of her wolf. I kept her close, my hand resting lightly at the small of her back, both a silent reassurance for her and a warning to anyone who dared question her presence.

Damon walked a step behind us, his grin practically feral as he drank in the unease rippling through the air. I knew he was relishing every second of this—watching me defy the council, daring to bring my mate into the heart of a vampire stronghold without their blessing.

We reached the last corridor before the royal wing, and I slowed my pace. The massive double doors at the end of the hall loomed like a final challenge. Behind them lay my father, the King—the man who had always seemed indestructible, now on the brink of death.

Leila’s footsteps faltered slightly, and I turned to face her. Her expression was guarded, her wolf’s wariness clear in the tightness of her posture.

"You don’t have to be afraid," I said softly, keeping my voice low. "No one will touch you. I’ll make sure of it."

"I’m not afraid," she said, her voice steady but laced with tension. "But I don’t know what you expect from me here, Chase. I don’t belong in this world. And your people—"

"Screw them," I interrupted, my tone sharper than I intended. I took a deep breath, forcing myself to soften. "Leila, you belong wherever I am. My father... he deserves to meet you. And I need you by my side for this."

She searched my eyes for a long moment, then nodded, her resolve hardening. "Okay," she said. "Let’s do this."

Damond chuckled behind us, a low, amused sound. "Touching. Really. Now, are we going in, or should I fetch the council for a group hug?"

I shot him a glare over my shoulder, and he raised his hands in mock surrender, clearly unrepentant.

Pushing open the heavy doors, I stepped into the dimly lit room. The air was thick with the scent of blood and decay, a sharp reminder of just how close death lingered. My father lay on the massive bed, his once-powerful frame reduced to a frail shadow of what it had been.

His eyes opened as we entered, their crimson glow dim but still piercing. When his gaze landed on me, a faint smile tugged at his lips.

"Chase," he rasped, his voice barely above a whisper.

I crossed the room in a few quick strides, kneeling beside the bed. "I’m here, Father," I said, my voice tight with emotion. "And I brought someone you need to meet."

I turned slightly, extending a hand to Leila. She hesitated for a fraction of a second before stepping forward, her movements graceful but cautious.

"This is Leila," I said, my voice steady despite the lump in my throat. "My mate."

As my father looked at Leila, his expression changed to one of shock, his eyes narrowing as if he were seeing a ghost. He lingered on her features, his voice barely above a rasp when he finally spoke.

"Alexander?" he whispered, his tone thick with disbelief.

"No, Father," I said, stepping forward, my voice steady but tinged with confusion. "This is Leila, my mate."

He let out a dry chuckle, his energy seeming to return as a flicker of life lit up his pale face. "I know, boy. I may be old, but I’m not senile." He leaned forward slightly, studying her more intently. "But she looks just like him."

"Who, Father?" I pressed, glancing at Leila, who was standing frozen in place, her unease visible.

Ignoring my question, he beckoned to her with a frail hand, his voice softening. "Come closer, my child. Let me see you properly... and scent you."

Leila’s hesitation was palpable. She cast a nervous glance at me, and I gave her a reassuring nod. "It’s alright," I said gently.

Taking a deep breath, she moved forward, each step measured and cautious. As she approached the edge of his bed, my father straightened as much as his weakened body would allow. He reached out, his thin fingers trembling slightly as he motioned for her to come closer still.

When she was near enough, he took a deep look at her, inhaling deeply through his nose. Then, unexpectedly, he began to laugh—a raspy, almost hysterical sound that echoed through the room.

"That old goat!" he wheezed between laughs, his body shaking with amusement. "That old goat had a daughter!"

I moved quickly to my father’s side, leaving Ash standing with Damon. My grip on Leila’s shoulder was firm, grounding her as confusion twisted her features. "What are you talking about, Father?" I asked, my voice sharper than I intended.

He gestured weakly to Leila, his laughter subsiding into a satisfied smile. "When I heard your mate was a wolf, I was furious. I thought you were following in Alexander’s footsteps—dooming yourself and this family the way he doomed his own. But now..." His crimson eyes glowed faintly as they settled on Leila. "Now I see she truly is your mate. At least you’re bonded to her vampiric side."

His words sent a ripple of shock through the room. Leila’s eyes widened, and she murmured, almost inaudibly, "Impossible."

She shook her head, her voice trembling as she spoke. "Both my parents are wolves. I am the first child of an alpha. My lineage is pure."

My father chuckled softly, his tone knowing. "And yet, here you are, my dear. Your scent and appearance tell another story." He patted the space beside him on the bed. "Come, sit. Let me explain."

Leila’s hesitance was clear, her body tensing as she glanced at me again. I gave her a small nod, silently encouraging her to comply. Reluctantly, she lowered herself onto the edge of the bed, keeping her posture rigid.

My father’s gaze softened as he studied her closely. "You have his face," he said quietly, "his dark hair. But those eyes—those belong to your mother. Lavender, yes? That was her name?"

Leila’s breath hitched, and she gave a slow nod. "Yes," she said cautiously. "But that proves nothing."

He smiled faintly, leaning back against his pillows as if preparing for a long story. "Let me tell you something about the past, child. About your bloodline."

We listened in silence as he began to recount a tale that seemed to stretch back into legend.

"Long ago, there were two royal families of vampires—the house of Miller, my lineage, and the house of Black. For centuries, we ruled this kingdom together, alternating power every decade. It was a system built on mutual respect and balance. But that balance was shattered by Alexander Black.

"Alexander was destined to rule next, but fate had other plans for him. Before he could find his beloved, he met a young wolf—a fiery creature who stole his heart. Their love was forbidden, an abomination in the eyes of the council and the kingdom. Yet, he refused to leave her, even as the council stripped him of his claim to the throne.

"The Black family, shamed by his defiance, dissolved. They scattered to the winds, their legacy ending in disgrace. And still, Alexander stayed with his she-wolf, only after when she found her true mate and left him behind.

"But now I see..." My father’s gaze locked onto Leila’s, his tone reverent. "She must not have known she carried his child when she left him. You, my dear, are that child. You are Alexander’s daughter."

Leila stared at him, her disbelief etched clearly on her face. "That’s... that’s not possible," she said weakly.

My father’s expression remained calm, his words unwavering. "The scent doesn’t lie, child. Nor do your features. You are his blood."

A silence hung in the air, thick with the weight of his revelation. Leila’s hands trembled in her lap, and without thinking, she reached out to steady him as a fit of coughing overtook him.

"Alexander was my best friend," he murmured when the coughing subsided. "I always felt guilty taking the throne in his place. But seeing you here, Leila... it brings me peace."

A small voice broke the tension. "Mommy, is he alright?"

Ash stood beside us, his wide eyes full of concern as he looked at my father. My father’s gaze softened further, and a faint smile curved his lips. "Now this," he murmured, "this boy... he looks just like Alexander."

Leila knelt slightly to reassure Ash, her voice steady but tinged with emotion. "He’s okay, sweetheart. Don’t worry."

Ash nodded and turned to me, his tiny hand slipping into mine. "Is he your daddy, Uncle Chase?"

I ruffled his hair gently. "Yes, Ash. He’s my father."

My father’s eyes lit up as I added, "And, Father, Damon and I have imprinted on him."

"Incredible," my father said, his voice filled with awe.