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

Where exactly is safe?

Not school. Definitely not the boarding house. Not until school was over and people came back.

I decided to kill time by walking around, blending in as best as I could. If I kept moving, maybe I wouldn’t feel so exposed. Maybe whatever was watching me wouldn’t follow.

I walked for what felt like hours, but the town was... eerie. Too quiet. Too empty. The occasional person I passed barely glanced at me, their expressions blank, almost robotic. I half-expected one of them to snap their head toward me, eyes black as coal, whispering my name in that slow, distorted way horror movies love.

Yeah. I needed to stop thinking like that.

Eventually, I stumbled across a library.

A big, old, gothic type of building—the kind with towering windows and intricate stone carvings. It felt ancient. Like it didn’t belong in this town. Like it had been here long before the streets and stores were built around it.

Curiosity whispered in my ear. If anything had answers about this place, it had to be here.

I pushed open the heavy wooden doors. The air inside was stale, thick with the scent of old pages and something else—something musty, almost metallic.

There were barely any people inside. A librarian sat behind the front desk, not even glancing up as I walked past. A few others sat at tables, hunched over books, their faces hidden behind their hair.

The silence was unnatural. Libraries were supposed to be quiet, but this? This was suffocating.

I wandered deeper into the shelves, scanning for anything that looked remotely historical.

Then I found it.

A dusty section in the far back, the books old and worn, their spines cracked with age. Town records. Historical archives.

Bingo.

Trouble was... I couldn’t reach them.

I wasn’t tall enough.

I scanned the library for one of those rolling ladders, but of course, no luck. Just my dumb fate mocking me again.

Fucking great.

I stretched onto my toes, trying to add an extra inch or two to my height, fingertips barely grazing the book’s spine. Almost. Just a little more—

Then a voice rumbled behind me, deep and velvety, too close.

"You have a pretty ass for a boy, pretty boy."

A slow, breathy whisper against my ear.

My body froze.

A cold shudder rippled through me, the kind of fear that locked your joints and stole your breath.

I knew that voice. I knew it too well.

Reed.

Oh, Lord.

I swallowed hard. My pulse pounded so loudly in my ears I barely registered anything else.

Reed hadn’t moved. He was still right there—pressed against me, his breath slow and deliberate, like he was savoring my fear. His grip on my waist was firm, possessive.

"You didn’t come to school," he repeated, his voice smooth, but carrying something darker beneath it—something dangerous.

I forced myself to breathe, but my body refused to relax. It didn’t matter that we were in a library, in broad daylight. This part of the library was empty. The historical section was tucked far into a corner, and even if someone had been here...

It wouldn’t have mattered.

People here didn’t interfere.

They either succumbed or pretended not to see.

I was alone.

His fingers flexed against my waist, the heat of his touch burning through my hoodie. I could feel the strength in them, the raw power just beneath the surface. If he wanted to, he could snap me in half.

"Skipping school already, pretty boy?" he murmured, his lips so close to my ear I shivered.

I clenched my fists, trying to suppress the panic threatening to take over. Think. Think.

"Please.Let me go," I said, but my voice came out weaker than I intended.

He chuckled, a deep, amused sound that sent chills down my spine.

"And why would I do that?" he mused. He liked this. The fear. The tension. The way I was frozen beneath him.

I shut my eyes, my mind racing. If I struggled, he’d just enjoy it more. If I showed fear, I’d only be playing into his hands.

So I did the only thing I could.

I went still.

I forced my breathing to even out, forced my body to relax just enough to make it seem like his presence didn’t unnerve me. Like I wasn’t panicking inside.

Reed didn’t move.

He was waiting.

Watching.

Judging my reaction.

I had no idea how long we stood like that—him pressed against me, his hands still on my waist, his breath against my ear. But I knew one thing.

I had to get out of this. Fast.

"Even with garlic on, you still reek of him," Reed muttered, his voice carrying an edge of irritation.

Him?

I didn’t know who he was talking about, but whoever it was, he wasn’t happy about it.

His fingers flexed slightly on my waist, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind me he was in control. The warmth of his touch sent another round of chills through me—not from comfort, but from the sheer wrongness of it.

The garlic.

He hadn’t even flinched at it. Hadn’t made a disgusted face, or even acknowledged the reason I wore it. Did he know? Maybe. If he did, he sure as hell wasn’t going to give me the satisfaction of reacting.

Instead, his irritation seemed focused on something else. On someone else.

And then, just as quickly, his attention shifted.

"You didn’t come to school," he said again, this time calmer, but the weight behind his words made it clear—he wasn’t pleased.

Sara’s words echoed in my head.

"School is a must."

Shit.

So it wasn’t just a place for them to toy with us. It wasn’t just some sick hunting ground.

There was something more to it.

And whatever that was... skipping wasn’t an option.

I stiffened, my breath catching in my throat as Reed’s grip tightened on my waist.

"I think you need to be punished, pretty boy," he murmured, his voice dark with amusement.

Before I could process his words, he moved.

A slow, deliberate grind against me, pressing his body flush to mine. My stomach turned, my mind screaming at me to move, to fight, to do something, but my body refused to obey.

Not here. Not now. Not against him.

His lips brushed my neck, the heat of his breath sending a shudder down my spine. And then—his teeth. Not biting, not breaking skin, just teasing, dragging along my throat as if he could feel the rapid pulse beneath.

I squeezed my eyes shut, desperate to be anywhere but here.

Was this what Sara went through?

Was this why she was always so scared, always so compliant? Had she endured this same humiliation, this same helplessness, over and over until it broke her?

Was this my fate too?