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

"Are you going to talk, or just oogle me all night?"

I shouldn't have said that.

I really shouldn't have said that.

The second the words left my mouth, I felt it—this cold, sinking dread curling in my stomach.

Because Reed stopped leaning against the streetlight.

And he started walking toward me.

Shit.

Fucking shit.

I tensed. Prepared myself. If this went south, I'd have to throw a punch—or run.

And I wasn't sure which one was the smarter option.

Because up close, he was tall.

Way taller than I'd realized.

When he was standing at a distance, lazily leaning against the pole, he hadn't seemed this massive.

Now?

Now I had to crane my neck to look up at him.

And every nerve in my body screamed at me to run.

I held my ground. Barely.

It took everything in me not to take a step back.

Not to scurry away like some prey that had just made the mistake of taunting the predator.

Then he spoke.

"You have to stop using whatever perfume you're using."

His voice had dropped—low. Dangerous.

"And if I find out you did it on purpose..."

He stepped closer.

So close I could feel the heat rolling off him.

"...you sure as hell won't like what I'll do to you."

I don't know what it was.

The way his voice barely whispered over my skin.

The way his words curled with pure menace.

Or the way his eyes pinned me down, glowing that unnatural yellow.

But my body knew.

It fucking knew.

Run.

Now.

So I did.

I turned on my heel and bolted, running straight for the boarding house.

I didn't look back.

Didn't dare.

Because for the first time in my life—I felt like prey.

Like one wrong move, one second too slow... and he'd pounce.

I didn't stop until I reached the porch, lungs burning, heart slamming in my chest.

And that's when I saw her.

Sara.

She was sitting on the stairs, staring at nothing.

She looked... lost.

Her skin was too pale. Her hands trembling slightly.

And the first thing I noticed?

The hickeys littering her arms.

Except...

They didn't look like hickeys.

They looked like bite marks.

A shiver crawled up my spine.

I stepped closer. Gently placed a hand on her shoulder.

She jerked violently, gasping.

Fuck.

I'd scared her.

Her wide, glassy eyes flicked up to mine, full of something that looked like fear.

Then, the second she recognized me—she forced a smile.

Like nothing was wrong.

Like she wasn't just sitting here, looking like something had drained the life out of her.

"Sorry," she mumbled. "I didn't notice you."

Then, as if remembering something—

She hurriedly pulled down her sleeves.

Covering the marks.

Trying to hide them.

And that's when I knew.

Something was very, very wrong.

I chose not to ask.

I acted like I hadn't seen a thing.

Sara smiled—a little too forced.

"Did you find a room?" she asked.

"Yeah. Room 12."

Her shoulders relaxed slightly. "I'm in 17. Third floor."

I nodded. "Good to know."

We entered the building in silence, the air between us thick with unspoken things.

I wanted to ask.

I really did.

About the marks on her skin.

About the way she looked haunted.

Like something had chewed her up and spit her back out.

But I didn't.

I let her go, watching as she disappeared up the stairs to her room.

And I exhaled.

Relieved.

But not entirely.

Because this day had been weird.

And there were three things I was still trying to wrap my head around.

First— How the hell did the ghost guy, Blaze, and that pale girl move so fast?

Like… inhumanly fast.

Fast enough that my own stupid eyes thought Blaze had been appearing and disappearing right in front of me.

Like a goddamn glitch in reality.

Second— Reed's eyes.

I'd seen it.

I knew I'd seen it.

His irises had switched.

From brown to yellow.

And it wasn't a trick of the light.

It wasn't some illusion.

It was real.

And the worst part?

It only happened when he got close to me or looked at me.

When he was standing inches away, staring me down like I was something he wanted to...

What?

Catch?

Destroy?

Devour?

I swallowed hard, pushing the thought away.

For now.

I opened my room, went to placed the groceries where they needed to be, but my mind was elsewhere.

Sara.

What the hell had happened to her?

I replayed everything—the way she looked lost, the way her hands shook just slightly when she covered up those marks, the way she flinched when that guy in the car had spoken to her earlier.

I didn't have any answers.

But I was damn sure about what I saw.

I sighed, running a hand down my face before grabbing my laptop.

Maybe I was overthinking. Maybe there was a logical explanation for all of this.

So, I typed in the first thing that had been gnawing at me.

"People walking too fast to be human."

The results?

Bullshit.

Apparently, my walking pace could determine my personality type.

Something about fast walkers being ambitious and impatient.

Something about slow walkers being laid-back and relaxed.

What the hell?

I changed my search.

"People who move inhumanly fast."

This time, Google decided I was looking for Marvel characters.

The Flash.

Quicksilver.

Yeah, because that was so helpful.

I scowled at the screen, slamming the laptop shut.

Fine. New question.

"What does it mean when someone's eyes change from brown to yellow?"

This one, at least, had some actual medical explanations.

Liver disease. Jaundice. Iron buildup.

But Reed…

Reed didn't look sick.

At all.

He looked dangerous.

He looked like someone who could tear me apart and wouldn't even break a sweat doing it.

Frustrated, I shoved the laptop aside and headed to the kitchen.

Maybe food would help.

An omelet. Quick. Simple. Something normal in this town that was anything but.

I ate in silence, trying not to think.

I needed sleep.

Maybe tomorrow, I'd find some real answers.