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

BLAZE – POV

I moved like a wraith through the edge of the wolf lands—every muscle coiled, every sense blazing. The forest here was different: tangled, rough, its ancient magic still crackling in the air like a storm waiting to break. My boots made no sound on the leaf mold. I wore the witch’s masking charm, but it faded with every mile, every breath, every drop of panic bleeding from her scent.

I stopped at the rim of a dry creek bed, pressing my back into the gnarled roots of an old oak. Below me, tortured earth led into a clearing where wolves patrolled in pairs. They were too far to see clearly in the gloom, but I could smell them—raw, feral, savage. My claws itched, a hundred fangs itched. I wanted to step forward, rip through them like paper, and shout her name, but that would ruin everything. If I tipped them off, every wolf in the Hunt would descend and tear me—and her—to pieces.

So I stayed in shadow.

I inhaled, tasting something sharp and metallic on the wind. Fear.

Pain.

Blood.

Clause. Her scent hit in a fresh rush—distended by terror and tears and dirt. She was injured. I could feel the limp raggedness in each heartbeat that drifted across the trees. She’d run for thirty minutes, maybe more, until her body cracked open in agony under the weight of the forest.

I dropped lower, scuttling along the bank until I had a sliver of line-of-sight to the clearing. The wolves moved like hunters rehearsing a dance—one would advance, the other would flank, both sniffing the ground. One snapped its jaws at a hare and dragged the trembling creature away. Another trotted closer to where I guessed she’d been—my guess, not theirs.

Below, the earth was scored with footprints—wolves’ and humans’. The prints narrowed and zig‑zagged away, as if the runner had crashed through thickets, doubled back, tried to climb logs. Somewhere in that chaos of tracks lay her path.

I knelt, fingertips tracing a shallow depression in the mud. The heelprint—small, desperate, bleeding. My heart stabbed.

"Bastards," I whispered.

I could have leapt in a heartbeat and shredded every one of them, but no. I weighed the risk: every fallen wolf meant an alarm, a howl, an avalanche of teeth and claws. If I killed too fast—or at all—everyone would know a vampire was in their midst. They’d rally together and hunt me, too. And that would leave her alone and trapped.

I had to find her quietly.

I rose on silent feet, bending low, peering past the nearest boughs. The wolves were moving away, deeper into the forest, following the scent of fresh blood—probably from some other human unlucky enough to break cover. Their howls drifted back to me, announcing to the world that the Hunt was on.

I clenched my jaw, knuckles white. I had to move. If they closed the net, she would die before I found her.

I slipped between two oaks and followed the wolf trail, keeping every sense alert. The sickly sweet scent of her blood rose and fell, like a tide I could only glimpse at the crest of each wave. Branches cracked underfoot; small animals scattered. I eased around a ledge, staying low until the howls softened.

Ahead, the trees opened into that same ravine I’d climbed earlier. The ground was scarred by scramble-marks—stones overturned, torn saplings. I recognized it: the route she’d taken, the place she’d chosen to climb.

My heart thundered. She was here.

I skirted the rim, desperate to see into the ravine floor. The fog was thicker here, swirling like ghosts. I glimpsed something—a flash of pale fabric, a flicker of movement. My blood sang. I slipped down a narrow path, landing in the gloom with barely a rustle.

And there she was, twenty yards away, pressed against a tree, eyes wide with terror and pain. Her breath fluttered in shallow gasps. She tried to stand, then slid down, clutching her ankle.

My throat tightened.

I wanted to call out. Reach for her. But I couldn’t. Not yet.

I swallowed, stepping closer until the loose earth underfoot threatened to snap. She jerked her head up at the sound and stared—wide-eyed, as if seeing a demon. And maybe I was.

She opened her mouth to scream. I dropped to one knee, hands flat on the earth, scenting for myself: was I still masked? I couldn’t risk being seen.

But then she exhaled in frustration and dropped her head. The hope drained from her eyes.

That was my moment.

I rose slowly, hands raised in peace. "Clause."

Her head snapped low.

Her eyes were wild, but she recognized my voice—barely. I saw the flicker of something like relief, followed by panic. She scrambled back, cradling her ankle, teeth gritted.

"Blaze," she whispered, astonished.

I crept forward, chest tight. "Stay there."

She swallowed, legs trembling. "You—how—"

"Don’t move," I said, desperate to mask the racing in my voice. "I’m can kill wolves tonight." I risked a glance at the ravine rim. No wolves in sight—yet. "I’m here to help you cross the border. To get you out of this." I climbed the tree she was seated

Tears pricked her eyes. "You don’t know what they’ll do—"

"Then let’s not find out." I gave her my hand. "Can you stand?"

She shook her head. Pain flared in her features.

I slid beside her, lifting her gently. She gasped at the movement. I wrapped my arms under her legs and back, cradling her like a wounded bird.

Her scent flooded me—sweet, frightened, hopeful. My demons roared. My love burned. I wanted to rip the rest of the world apart.

But I stayed silent. I carried her up the slope, careful not to slip on the moss. Every snap of twig behind me made me tense, ready to vanish back into shadow. But no one came.

We reached the cliff’s edge—where I’d climbed in. The border shimmered faintly beyond. She looked up at it, confusion and fear mingling on her face.

"Almost there," I whispered.

I hoisted her higher, stepping onto the last rocky outcrop. The barrier slithered around us, crackled, then passed.

We were in vampire land.

I set her down gently. She sagged against me, exhausted.

"Thank you," she breathed.

I brushed a lock of hair from her face. "We’re not safe yet. But we have time."

Above us, the first owl hooted. The forest exhaled.

I held her tight, knowing I’d done the impossible. For once, I’d broken the law—and saved my beloved.

REED – POV

I followed her trail through the underbrush like a ghost. Every snapped twig and crushed fern spoke her name: Clause.

Thirty minutes of running had left her scent ragged, trailing in broken pulses across the forest floor. I’d slipped away from the Hunt’s outer ring—left the other wolves to their sport—because this was mine. I was Reed of the Crescent Fang, heir to the throne, and this was my hunt.

The forest here was a labyrinth of shadows. Twilight filtered down through high branches, making the world feel a muted dream. But my senses were razor‑sharp. I tasted her fear in the damp air. I heard the quick tap of her boots, then the grunt when she stumbled. I saw splashes of blood on the leaves—her blood.

Gods, I thought. Hold on, Clause.

I limped over roots, my own ankle screaming in protest. It had twisted when a branch snagged my foot, but I couldn’t slow. It will heal eventually. For every second I hesitated, the wolves closed in.

The path narrowed into a rocky ravine. I crept through, eyes fixed on the dark cleft below. The scent grew stronger here—sweeter, sharper. She had climbed. I could almost see her, perched above me, safe... but also dangerously exposed.

I slid down the slope, boots skidding on loose stones. At the bottom, I paused, chest heaving. Her footprints ended at a sprawl of ferns—no sign of footprints continuing. Only a series of bark‑scraped gouges on a young oak.

Claw marks. Deep, jagged.

She climbed here.

My pulse throbbed. I traced the gouge with a fingertip. Sap oozed down the bark. Fresh.

I looked up.

Above me, a great oak arched its limbs, thick branches woven into a natural platform. Exactly the kind of hiding spot I’d found once in childhood games with my siblings—only in my memories, it had been safe, not deadly.

I scanned every branch, every tangle of limbs. My eyes darted left, right—nothing. Then directly overhead: a bare point of sky framed by dark leaves. If she’d reached that high, I’d never spot her from below.

I swallowed. "Clause!" I called, voice raw. "Clause, where are you?"

My shout echoed against the stone walls of the ravine, but only wind answered.

I shifted my weight, inching forward. My fingers brushed a broken twig lying at the base of the trunk—snapped clean. She’d kicked it, climbed quickly.

I pressed my palm against the cool wood, toes finding purchase. The bark was rough under my fingertips as I began to climb. One hand. Two hands. My boot found a notch. Pain flared in my ankle but I blocked it out—her life burned brighter than my flesh.

Branch by branch, I rose, until the world fell away beneath me. Above, the sky was a pinprick of pale light. Around me, branches intertwined, a bower of green.

I moved carefully, scanning each limb. A stray lock of dark hair? No. A piece of her ragged shirt caught on a jutting branch? Nothing. Only empty branches and the slow sway of leaves.

I climbed higher still, until the canopy thinned and the forest floor was a tapestry of moss and shadow.

Still nothing.

A growl echoed below—one of the wolf hunters picking up her scent. They were closing in.

I paused, chest heaving, mind racing. If she wasn’t here... where?

I slid down carefully, heart drumming. At the base, I landed lightly and crouched, gathering scent again.

Blood—her blood—lingered on my hands. I licked a cut on my palm, tasting iron. Then I sniffed the air, searching for her unique note beneath the tang of my own sweat and the odor of wolves.

There—something else. A faint, elusive sweetness, like smoke on a breeze. Not wolf. Not human.

I frowned. Vampire magic?

For a moment, my blood ran cold. Blaze.

He was here. His scent should have screamed through the forest—burning, searing, impossible to hide. Yet here it was, masked and faint. He’d found her first.

A pang of anger shot through me: He’s with her.

Anger gave way to dread. If Blaze was here in wolf lands—breaking sacred law—he risked a thousand death sentences. And Clause... what had Blaze done? Where had he taken her?

I crouched low, following that faint sweetness off the trail and into deeper gloom. My mind raced: He must’ve carried her down into his territory. He must be getting her safe.

But this was wolf land. They’d close the net soon.

I rose to my feet, ignoring the pain in my ankle, and sprinted from the ravine. Above me, branches blurred. The moon, half‑concealed by clouds, cast a pale glow on the path.

Wolves howled—hunters urging each other on. Their voices mingled with other screams, human pleas for mercy. I slammed through the forest, branches slapping my face, heart pounding like war drums.

Not her voice.

Not hers.

I forced myself to focus, ignoring the panic that threatened to drown me. Blaze might be with Clause now—but in this war of beasts, every second counted.

I turned into a clearing and skidded to a halt. Fresh tracks led off to the east: a pair of human footprints, fading into the moss. A wolf had chased someone this way.

I followed.

Scent told me I was on the wrong trail. My soul sank.