Captive: Sold To The Fox-eyed Alpha Who I Hate Chapter 7: An unwanted guest

Ren spun around, picking up the wooden sword and raising it in imdiate defense.

Standing by the weight racks was a stranger. He was tall, unnaturally pale, with hair as black as ink and eyes that burned with a flat, unsettling crimson. He didn’t sll like a common Alpha, but he did sll like an Alpha. Just had a weird cold and a nothingness sll lingering around him.

"Who the hell are you?" Ren spat, his warrior’s pride forcing his shaking legs to hold their ground.

The stranger didn’t answer. He moved—not like a man, but like a shadow. Before Ren could even blink, the man was across the room. Ren swung the wooden blade, but it hit nothing but air.

Suddenly, a cold, hard hand seized Ren’s wrist, twisting his arm behind his back with terrifying efficiency. Ren gasped, one knee hitting the mat as the stranger pressed him down.

"I heard the news," the man murmured into Ren’s ear, his breath cold against Ren’s neck. "That fox-eyed psychopath bought an Oga. I expected a broken doll, but you... You don’t seem to be the typical Oga."

"Let go!" Ren struggled, his heel digging into the mat, but it was like struggling with the weight of a statue. The stranger’s strength was absolute.

"Hold still," the man whispered, his grip tightening. He tilted Ren’s head to the side, exposing the soft skin just above the iron collar. "I’ll just have one bite. Consider it a taste test. I’m sure even that psychopath will thank ."

Who was this psychopath calling a psychopath?

Ren’s eyes widened as he felt sothing sharp—fangs—graze his jugular.

But then...

CRACK.

The sound of the impact was like a gunshot. A hand slamd into the stranger’s face with enough force to send him hurtling backward across the mats, several paces in a single slide.

In a flash, Ren was jerked upward and shoved violently behind a broad back. He staggered, clutching his bruised wrist, and looked up to see a very familiar back. Cilian’s back.

The ’charming’ Alpha who had been chattering nonstop was gone. Cilian stood between Ren and the intruder, his shoulders broad and his pheromones exploding into the room—a freezing, suffocating blizzard of Alpha rage. He was still smiling, but there was no warmth in it. Just a cold blizzard. His slit eyes glowed with a predatory light that made the iron collar feel light by comparison.

And despite how his pheromone was raging, Ren seed unaffected.

The stranger sat up, wiping a sar of dark, thick blood from his nose. He hissed, his fangs fully bared.

"What is an unwanted guest doing on my grounds?" Cilian asked. His voice was low as he addressed this lethal threat that showed up without an invitation.

The unwanted guest stood up, "You’re still so cruel with your welcoming, Vane." His crimson eyes darted between Cilian and the trembling Oga behind him. "I just wanted a taste. He slled quite pleasant." He licked his lips, and at that mont, Ren realized what that man was.

He had heard of an ancient bloodline of vampires, with unimaginable speed and strength, capable of living over a thousand years, but since he had never co across one, he felt it might have just been people talking, trying to make myths sound real.

But facing this man now, Ren knew those were not empty talks.

"Don’t touch my Ren," Cilian said, his hand moving to Ren’s back. His lighthearted voice sounded cold, and so was the smile on his lips. "Try that one more ti, and you’re dead to . I still have my silver bullets loaded, and I’ve been looking for an excuse to see how well it works on your kind."

The stranger paused, his gaze lingering on Ren with a hunger that made Ren’s stomach turn. Then, he let out a dry, rattling laugh, shrugging his shoulders. "Keep your pet, you fox-eyed psycho. He’s a bit too bony for my taste anyway."

With a flick of his cloak, the man vanished into the shadows as quickly as he’d appeared.

Did he just... run away?

The silence that followed was heavy. Cilian wasn’t even breathing hard, but his breath was sohow loud. He stood over the spot where the vampire had been, a small, amused huff escaping his lips as he wiped a stray drop of blood from his cheek with a silk handkerchief he took from his pocket. He looked like he’d just won a casual ga of tennis, not like he’d just struck a high-ranking Alpha of the Mordecai line.

"Really, Ren," Cilian said, turning around. His eyes were back to those pleasant, mocking crescents. "I leave you alone for five minutes, and you’re already making new friends. I knew you were popular, but this is a bit much. It makes quite sad though, cause I want to be your only friend."

Ren was still shaking, his hand clutching his bruised wrist and not even listening to Cilian’s supposed joke. "He was... he wasn’t human... right?" he looked up, as if wanting to confirm he was right and he hadn’t actually gone crazy.

"Yes, he’s a rare breed. A vampire." Cilian dismissed him with a wave of his hand. "But that’s all he has to himself anyway." He stepped closer, his pheromones—that cold, sharp winter air—wrapping around Ren again. "Julian has always had poor impulse control. But don’t worry. I’ve reminded him whose house this is."