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

Reed POV:

The second I storm back into her room, I already know the damn leech beat me to it. He’s perched by the window like some smug, undead gargoyle, and there she is—still curled up just the way I left her, like a fragile little heartbeat in a world full of predators.

My wolf’s already clawing at my skin, fangs itching to sink into that cold bastard’s throat. I don’t even have to speak before he’s growling through my mouth, voice sharp and full of rage.

"What did you do to her?"

Her.

He said her. He fucking knows.

The words hit me like a slap, like ice water to the face. He knows. That blood-sucking freak already knows she’s not a boy. Which means... fuck.

He touch her

Did he hurt her?

My stomach twists with something worse than fury—it’s panic. Pure, searing panic that makes my wolf thrash harder, makes my hands curl into claws, makes my vision tint with red.

She was already bleeding . And crying in pain.

And this cold, smug parasite knew she was a girl. Knew and kept it secret. Knew and came back.

Did he take advantage of her?

Did he rip her apart, leave her bleeding like that?

The thought hits me harder than a rogue’s bite. My breathing staggers. My wolf goes silent—not calm, but coiled. Waiting. Seething.

The leech doesn’t get to walk away from this. Not if he laid a single finger on her. Not if her pain is his fault. Not if her blood—my mate’s blood—is on his conscience.

Someone’s not leaving this room standing. And it’s sure as hell not going to be me.

The second she disappeared into the bathroom, door clicking shut behind her, something inside me snapped free.

Good. She didn’t need to see what came next.

With a snarl ripping through my throat, I lunged at the smug bastard still lurking near the window. My fist shot forward, aimed for his jaw—but Blaze, with that infuriating vampire speed, darted out of reach in a blur of shadows and mockery.

"GODS, STAND STILL!" I roared, but he only smirked, baring fangs like he was toying with prey.

Before I could blink, he was behind me. I barely had time to brace before he drove his fist toward my gut. Pain exploded through my ribs—but I twisted at the last second, catching his wrist and slamming him into the wall with enough force to shake dust from the ceiling.

"You touch her," I growled, voice laced with venom, "and I swear I’ll rip you apart vein by vein."

His eyes gleamed blood-red with rage and amusement. "I did lay a hand on your little human pet," he spat, before slamming his forehead into mine, making my vision burst white.

We both staggered back, but I was quicker. My claws tore through the air, grazing his chest and drawing black-red blood that reeked of old death.

He hissed, retaliating with a savage elbow to my temple that sent me crashing sideways—straight into the bedside table.

The wood cracked beneath my weight, drawers exploding open and scattering contents across the floor. I bit back a snarl, shoving the splinters away and leaping back to my feet just in time to meet his next attack.

Blaze launched at me again, and this time I let him think he had the upper hand. He tackled me, bearing me down to the floor, his claws slashing across my shoulder. Then he sank his fangs into the side of my neck. freeweɓnovel.cøm

Fucking bloodsucker.

Pain seared through me like fire, my vision tunneling as his venomous bite sank deeper. My wolf howled in fury and surged up inside me, lending strength. I shoved him off with a roar, grabbing him by the throat and slamming him into the opposite wall.

The mirror shattered.

Glass exploded everywhere, raining down like a silver storm, some of it catching light and glittering like frozen lightning.

Blaze crumpled but rolled with it, coming up with blood on his lips and fire in his eyes. He tackled me next, and we traded punches like beasts—no rhythm, no finesse, just raw fury and desperation.

I landed a solid hit to his jaw—felt bone crack under my knuckles—and he snarled, sending his knee into my ribs in return. The pain lit my nerves on fire, but I kept going, shoving him to the floor, pinning him down.

I raised my fist, ready to land the final punch—

Click.

The bathroom door opened.

The air changed instantly.

I froze mid-swing, Blaze stilled beneath me.

She stepped out—.

Not in her wig. No disguise. Her short blonde hair was gone, replaced by cascading, long, wavy dark brown strands still damp from the bath, clinging to her shoulders.

She was in nothing but a robe, looking somewhere between exhausted, irritated, and royally done with both of us.

We both stared.

She didn’t flinch. Didn’t speak.

Just glared at the destruction like we were toddlers who broke the cookie jar.

My fist still hovered in the air.

Blaze’s fangs were still out, blood at the corner of his mouth.

And she... she just turned her back to us, walked to her wardrobe, and started rummaging for clothes.

Like nothing happened.

She didn’t say a single damn word.

Not a curse. Not a glare. Not a single breath wasted on either of us.

She just moved. Calm. Focused. Like we were nothing more than annoying stains on her wall she couldn’t be bothered to clean up.

And that... that pissed me off more than any punch Blaze could ever throw.

I was still on top of the damn leech, my fist curled mid-air, but the moment she walked toward her wardrobe, my entire focus shifted. I thought she’d drop the robe—maybe even forget we were still in the room bruised and bloodied from nearly killing each other over her.

And gods help me, a part of me wanted her to take it off. Just to see her. Claim her. The other part? The sane part? Wanted her to stay wrapped up because that bastard was still watching her too—his red eyes burning holes into her body like she belonged to him.

She didn’t even look at us as she pulled on panties under her robe.

Then sweatpants.

Then a shirt, slipping it on with practiced ease, her back turned to us the entire time—robe only leaving her when the shirt was already over her head.

The only bare skin I saw was her back, smooth and pale, the slope of her shoulder blades as she pulled her shirt down over her waist.

And even that short glimpse burned into my skull like a brand.

She then stripped the bed with quiet efficiency, bundling the stained sheets without a single wrinkle of disgust. The scent of blood still clung to the air, messing with my wolf, but her expression didn’t falter once.

Like she did this every damn month.

She was halfway through fixing the sheets when she froze—then bent over, hand flying to her stomach.

Her face twisted.

Pain. Sharp. Immediate.

And fuck if my heart didn’t stop.

I moved without thinking.

Only I didn’t get to her.

Because the leech—that fucking bloodsucking bastard—threw me off him like I was nothing. My body slammed into the side of the wardrobe with a loud crack just as Blaze blurred forward, faster than I could catch.

He was by her side before I could even growl.

"GET AWAY FROM HER!" I snarled, rage bubbling like molten lava beneath my skin, but I was still peeling myself off the damn floor, dazed from the hit.

My wolf howled inside me, clawing, furious. Not just from the pain or being tossed—but because he got to her first.

Again.

I wasn’t sure what exactly I expected to happen when the little spitfire doubled over in pain. Maybe she’d whimper. Maybe she’d reach out for help, finally letting one of us carry her like the fragile thing she clearly was right now.

But nope.

That wasn’t Clare.

Because the moment Blaze reached for her—his cold, undead fingers barely brushing her shoulder—she shot up like lightning cracked through her soul.

"DON’T. TOUCH. ME." she snapped.

It wasn’t a plea.

It was a command.

I had to choke back a laugh that tried to force its way out. What came out instead was a weird sound—half-snort, half-shocked grunt—as Blaze flinched like her words had physically struck him. His hand froze midair, retreating as if she’d lit it on fire.

And that’s when she snapped.

Whatever hold she’d had on her temper, on her emotions, on her very soul—vanished.

She turned around slowly, deliberately, her face pale from the pain but eyes glowing with a fury I’d never seen before on any creature—human or otherwise. Her chest rose and fell in fast, angry breaths. Her mouth opened—

And hell broke loose.

"You two—YOU TWO—are the most ridiculous, entitled, overgrown bastards I have EVER had the misfortune of meeting!"

I blinked. Blaze stood there, stunned stupid. And me? I just leaned back slightly, unsure if I should be offended or impressed.

She pointed a finger—sharply, accusingly—straight at Blaze first.

"You! You freaking ancient asshole! Crawling through my window like some deranged bat-boy from hell, sneaking around like a stalker from a bad vampire romance novel. News flash: we don’t live in the 1800s! You knock! You text! You DO NOT just randomly show up at a girl’s window while she’s BLEEDING TO DEATH FROM HER UTERUS!"

Blaze opened his mouth to respond.

She didn’t let him.

"And YOU—" she spun to face me, jabbing that same finger in my direction now, "—you overgrown dog with a superiority complex! Who the hell tells someone to take their pants off like you’re commanding a servant? You thought I was a guy, then a girl, then a lying girl, then a possibly bleeding and injured girl—and through all that, what did you do? You threatened violence, sniffed me like a damn hound, and then tried to fight a vampire in the middle of MY bedroom while I was DYING OF CRAMPS."

I winced.

She wasn’t done.

"I don’t care if you’re some alpha king with a big ego and even bigger delusions of grandeur—my uterus doesn’t give a flying rat’s ass about your wolf. Nor does it care about Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Fangy over here. My uterus is on a warpath, my emotions are in shambles, and I swear to every god listening—if one of you so much as breathes wrong in my direction again, I will personally shove a silver dagger through your left testicle and call it acupuncture."

Blaze looked like someone had slapped him with a holy relic. Honestly, the guy was already pale as moonlight, but now? He was translucent.

And I couldn’t lie—seeing the vampire prince, feared by an entire kingdom of bloodsuckers, blinking like a scolded child? Priceless.

"You two come in here," she continued, still talking a mile a minute, "wrecking my room like it’s some supernatural WWE match, bleeding all over my damn floor, breaking mirrors, tables, walls—like you live here! Do I look like your mommy?! Am I your maid? No! I am a teenage girl who faked being a boy to stay out of your psychotic drama! And what do I get for my trouble? Blood. Bed sheets ruined. Furniture DESTROYED. And cramps that feel like a demon is tap dancing on my ovaries!"

She stomped a foot for emphasis.

And honestly? It was kind of cute.

Like a pissed-off kitten who just found out the food bowl was empty.

But I wasn’t about to say that aloud. I liked my head where it was.

"And let’s not even start with the fact that neither of you apologized for—oh, I don’t know—THINKING I WAS LYING ABOUT MY GENDER, STRIPPING ME WITHOUT CONSENT, OR STARTING A TERRITORIAL PISSING CONTEST OVER WHO GETS TO STARE AT ME LIKE A SLAB OF MEAT!"

That... was directed at both of us.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t wrong.

"Let me make this perfectly clear," she said, her tone dropping an octave into dangerous territory. "You don’t own me. You don’t control me. You don’t decide who I talk to, where I go, what I wear, or what I do with my own body. I don’t care if you’re a king or a prince or a bloodsucking fairy godmother—I am not your possession."

My wolf whined low in my chest, both impressed and slightly terrified.

Then, as if she hadn’t just verbally eviscerated us both, she took a deep breath. Straightened her spine. And gave the final blow.

"I want this mess cleaned. I want my furniture replaced. And I want you both to get out of my damn bedroom."

She stomped toward the door, her slippers barely making a sound but somehow still echoing like a queen’s decree. Just before she disappeared into the hallway, she tossed one last glare over her shoulder.

"Oh, and one more thing—fuck both of you."

The door slammed shut behind her.

Silence.

I turned slowly to Blaze, who still hadn’t moved. His jaw was slightly open. His brows furrowed like his undead brain was still trying to process what just happened.

And despite myself... I grinned.

"I think," I said slowly, "we just got scolded by a human."

Blaze didn’t respond. Just stared at the door like she’d personally shattered his undead dignity.

"And," I added, rubbing the back of my neck, "I think I might be in love."

His glare snapped to me instantly.

I rolled my eyes. "Relax, bat-boy. I said might."

But in truth... that fire, that unrelenting fury, that refusal to be small in a world built to make her feel that way?

Yeah.

It was kind of intoxicating.

My wolf rumbled in agreement, tail wagging somewhere deep inside my soul.

Mate, he growled again.

Blaze looked like he wanted to disagree—but even he didn’t say anything. Because we both felt it.

That spark.

That bond.

That pull.

And neither of us had any damn clue what to do about it.

Because for all our strength, all our power, all our centuries of pride and dominance—

We’d just been humbled by a five-foot-something human girl in a bathrobe with period cramps-I think that what she called it.

And I had a feeling this was only the beginning.