Claimed by the Alpha and the Vampire Prince: Masquerading as a Man

CLARE – POV

I finished bathing—not too quickly, but not nearly as indulgently as I would’ve liked either. I wanted to soak in that tub for hours, maybe even fall asleep there and pretend the world didn’t exist.

But I didn’t trust Blaze not to barge in again.

Not with that smug, fang-baring grin and those insufferably dark, lust-ridden eyes like I was some rare delicacy. He would come in, pretend to be checking on me, then refuse to leave like a deranged vampire with boundary issues.

So no, relaxation wasn’t exactly in the cards.

Yeah, the bath was incredible. Warm, bubbled, scented like something only rich people had access to. But peace? That was a different story.

Eventually, I climbed out and found a robe hanging conveniently nearby. Soft, thick, smelling faintly like pine and something darker — probably Blaze. Of course it did. He owned everything in this room.

I wrapped it tight, bracing myself for another round of "Where the hell am I?" and peeked out the bathroom door.

I cracked open the bathroom door and peeked out. No Blaze. No looming shadows. No inappropriate vampire comments about my "divine scent." The room was empty.

He was gone.

No sign of the smug vampire.

Had he finally gotten the memo about privacy?

I stepped out, cautiously at first. To my surprise — or maybe not — the room had changed. The massive bed I’d stained earlier with blood? Clean. Neatly made. The table I’d destroyed with fries and inappropriate moaning? Cleared, reset, and now neatly stocked with a tray of cookies, fruit slices, and a steaming cup of something. Tea? Coffee?

Okay, what?

I didn’t hear anyone come in. Or leave. I mean... was Blaze some sort of ghost ninja?

Possibly.

I glanced around again. Still no sign of him. So I padded quietly over to the bags he brought earlier, rummaging until I found what I was looking for: a tampon and—yep—panties.

Not just any panties though—sexy panties. Lacy. Black. Of-freaking-course.

I didn’t even want to ask.

Two days into my period and I’ve already had a vampire and a werewolf involved in buying me tampons. What a life.

No, really. Let’s just... take that in for a second.

This is my new normal now.

Okay, Clare. Deep breath. One day at a time.

There was a folded shirt lying neatly on the bed — obviously Blaze’s — and I figured that was his idea of an outfit. I pulled it on quickly before he had another accidental walk-in and found me naked in his room. Again. But I was not walking around pants-less. I had limits.

I wasn’t about to go commando in a vampire’s bedroom, so — yeah. I snooped. Straight into his closet.

Big mistake.

Because what the actual hell?

Every single pair of pants in there—black. Jet black, charcoal black, ash black, possibly some void-of-the-universe black. Jeans, sweatpants, dress pants, even what looked like khakis, all in various shades of damnation.

Who the hell color-coordinates their wardrobe like a gothic cartoon villain?

Forget snooping—I might need therapy after this closet alone.

Seriously, does the guy have a phobia of color?

Anyway, I grabbed a pair of black sweatpants — oversized, obviously — but manageable. They had a drawstring waist, so I could cinch them tight and fold the legs. Ta-da: vampire couture. Kinda. At least I was no longer half-naked.

Just as I was adjusting the waistband and convincing myself I didn’t look like a complete idiot, the door swung open.

I froze.

And no — it wasn’t Blaze.

Standing there in the doorway was a woman. Pale. Ethereal. Gorgeous in that classic "might-kill-you-if-you-blink-wrong" way.

My heart stuttered in my chest.

In the doorway stood a woman—or something resembling one. Tall, pale, unnaturally elegant. Her hair was a gleaming copper-red, like fresh blood under sunlight, tumbling in waves past her shoulders. Her lips were deep crimson, glossy, and unnervingly perfect. Her eyes were the kind of red that didn’t belong to contact lenses.

No.

This wasn’t just a vampire.

She was royalty.

Or a predator.

Possibly both.

And she was looking at me like I was a bug crawling across a pristine marble floor.

Or a snack she hadn’t decided whether to chew or burn.

I stood frozen, half dressed in Blaze’s clothes, period cramps still kicking, heart slamming against my ribs like a warning bell. I didn’t know who she was.

But one thing was suddenly, terrifyingly clear:

Blaze wasn’t the scariest thing in this room anymore.

Long red hair. Blood-red lips.Eyes like she already hated me.And suddenly I wasn’t cold from the air.

I was cold from instinct.Because whatever she was...

She wasn’t here to make friends.

************

She closed her eyes and inhaled — slowly, deeply — like she was tasting the air.

Shit.

Panic curled like barbed wire in my gut. She could smell it—the blood. I was on my period, and this vampire woman just took a long, deliberate breath like she was sampling vintage wine. My heartbeat stuttered. My body screamed for flight.

But where the hell could I go?

I could practically feel her zeroing in on the scent of blood. My blood.

Period blood.

God, I hadn’t even considered that could attract others.

Please, please don’t let her be in a blood frenzy. I wasn’t ready to die. Not in sweatpants and someone else’s oversized shirt.

When her eyes opened, the hatred there had mutated—twisted into something far worse.

Loathing.

And then came the smile.

Wicked. Knowing. Cruel.

A wicked smile curved her red lips, and she tilted her head like she’d just figured out the punchline to a private joke.

Her eyes gleamed like poison.

She tilted her head slightly, eyes gleaming like hot coals as if she just discovered something terribly amusing. "I bet you taste just like him too."

Him?

What?

Who?

But I didn’t get the chance to ask. I didn’t even get to breathe.

I hadn’t even blinked. One moment she was by the door, the next—

I couldn’t even scream in time. My head was yanked back by the roots of my hair, hard, vicious, snapping my neck at an unnatural angle. I barely registered the sting before the pain exploded—her fangs sank into the side of my neck, tearing through flesh like it was paper..

Her fangs plunged into my skin.

I screamed. Loud.

Because fuck, it hurt.

It wasn’t the sexy vampire nibble all those dark romance novels promised. This was real. Violent. It burned. It ripped. It felt like acid pouring into my veins. My knees buckled from the shock, vision swimming with black stars as I clutched at her arm, trying to pull her off, failing miserably. It burned like fire under my skin and sent sharp jolts of pain down my spine. I felt the blood leave me — felt the light dimming as she took more, greedy, merciless.

Then—

WHAM.

Something zoomed across the room — a blur. Fast, brutal, loud.

A sonic blur tore across the room.

The force of it blew my hair back, knocked something heavy off the table. The red-headed demon feeding on me was ripped away, flung across the room like a ragdoll, her body crashing into the velvet sofa with a bone-crunching thud.

I didn’t see much from the way my head was wrenched, but I heard the impact.

The crack of bone meeting wall.

And then... silence.

I stumbled forward, gasping, my legs trembling from blood loss. My hands clutched my neck, sticky warmth pulsing between my fingers.

I staggered forward, my knees buckling from blood loss, my hands reaching blindly for something to hold onto. My vision swam — black dots everywhere — and the world spun sideways.

But I stayed upright.

Barely.

When my vision finally cleared enough to focus, I looked up — expecting to see Blaze, storming in with his usual too-cool-for-this-shit expression.

But... no.

It wasn’t Blaze.

It was a man. Or... something close enough to look like one.

It was... him—a male version of her. Pale. Red lips. That same blood-colored hair, cropped short, tousled in perfect chaos. His beauty was as terrifying as hers—ethereal and cruel, sculpted in rage.

But it was his eyes that froze me.

They were exactly like hers—filled with cold, calculated hate. Not confusion. Not curiosity. Hate.

And it was aimed right at me.

Great.

Those eyes.

Those eyes didn’t just hate me — they detested me. ƒrēewebnoѵёl.cσm

Like I’d personally insulted their entire bloodline.

Was this a family trait? Or had someone sent out a newsletter that said "Hate the human in Blaze’s shirt"?

Was there a family reunion happening in this damn suite I didn’t know about?

I staggered back a step, clutching at the edge of the wall for support. My heartbeat pounded in my ears, and I could feel my pulse still bleeding weakly beneath my fingers.

I wanted to scream, again—but my voice was gone. Maybe along with the pint of blood that just got drained from my body.

Why?

Why were they looking at me like that?

Like I’d stolen something from them. Like my very existence was an insult.

Didn’t anyone teach these vampires not to judge a book by its cover?

Because they were reading me like I was a cursed page ripped out of a nightmare.

And by the look in their eyes...

They were ready to burn it.