Claimed by the Alpha and the Vampire Prince: Masquerading as a Man Chapter 119: Past Catching Up

BLAZE POV

Great.

Fucking great.

The stupid mutt got us banished from her bed.

I was the one who followed her in first—I was the one who stayed quiet, who was just trying to keep her safe. Then he had to co in, trailing behind like a shadow with a superiority complex, and act like I’d laid claim to sothing he wanted.

So now?

Now we’re both out.

Exiled from the warm sanctuary of her room because Reed couldn’t stand losing even while she was asleep. What the hell did he think was going to happen—she’d wake up and throw a fucking rose at whoever she was curled up next to?

Gods. What a joke.

And now this is it.

If he hadn’t copied —if he’d just let go in alone like I planned—none of this would’ve happened. I would’ve held her, kept her warm, maybe even gained so of that fragile trust she’s barely beginning to offer. But no, Reed had to stomp in right after like a territorial dog peeing on everything I touch.

And now?

Now we’re banned.Off the bed. Off her space.Just like that.

I don’t even bla her, honestly. She’s right. We are invading her personal space. But dammit, I was this close to building sothing with her last night. That sleep... it was the best rest I’ve had in decades. I forgot what peace felt like until I had her in my arms—even if it was only for a few hours before she rolled over to that furball and left spooning him like so goddamn nightmare.

I still haven’t forgiven the universe for that.

And now?Now I’ve lost that mont.Because of him.Because of us.

This was the last ti I got to hold her in bed, wasn’t it?Unless sothing changes. Unless she lets back in.

This is last ti I get to hold her in bed. The last ti I get to breathe in her scent without walls or guards between us. The last ti I get to feel her warmth seep into my cold, cursed bones and pretend—even for a second—that I’m not the monster everyone thinks I am.

Because truth be told...

She makes feel.

She made sleep.

I hadn’t truly slept in years—centuries, maybe. Rested? Sure. Closed my eyes and pretended long enough to get by? Of course. But last night?

Last night I slept.

And I dreamt.

Of her. Of a life that never existed but that I suddenly wanted. A life where she smiled at and it wasn’t just in pity or awkwardness, but because she chose . Gods, even dreaming it felt like blasphemy.

Now it’s all gone.

Because Reed had to puff his chest and play alpha. Because I let my guard down and fell asleep next to him like so damn dostic idiot. Because now she’s decided we’ve crossed a line—her "private space" was invaded, and we’re just two dumb dogs fighting for a bone.

And she’s not wrong.

But that doesn’t an it hurts any less.

I’m not letting Reed win.

Not again.

Not like with Clark.

Because if this mate bond ans anything—if there’s even a chance she’s mine—then I’ll fight every last werewolf in the damned woods and bleed for it.

Even if it ans playing nice.

Even if it ans pretending to be patient.

But I swear to the blood gods, if that mutt so much as breathes near her door tonight—he’s getting fanged.

And no. No fucking way in hell will that incident ever leave the four corners of that room. Not now. Not ever.

and Reed? In the sa bed?

Cuddling?

Absolutely not.

The fact that I woke up practically spooning a wolf?Disgusting. Unholy. Blasphemous.

If anyone in the kingdom or worse the whole of supernatural world—got wind of that, I’d never hear the end of it. The idea alone is already a taboo. Vampires and werewolves sharing a bed is borderline sacrilegious as it is. But spooning? No. That’s where I draw the goddamn line.

Our kinds don’t touch unless it ends in blood.

I don’t care if we were unconscious. I don’t care if it was an accident, so cosmic joke at our expense. That mont never happened. I will personally erase it from existence, burn it from mory, and if Reed ever opens his mutt mouth about it, I’ll make sure he can’t talk for a week.

Burn that mory. Bury it. Drown it in holy water.If anyone dares find out, I’ll personally incinerate the poor bastard who breathes a word.

I don’t even know how it happened. One second, Clare was curled between us—where she should be—and the next, she was wriggling her way off the bed like a damn caterpillar, leaving and Reed to wake up holding each other like lovers from a forbidden play.

The horror on his face mirrored mine, which, for once, I appreciated. It ant we were on the sa page: this. never. happened.

Fuck. My pride still hurts.

And the worst part? I still rember the warmth of her pressed between us. Her scent clinging to . That peace.

Even if it ca with a side of trauma and unexpected fur.

Still worth it.

But no one’s ever going to know.

That mont dies with us.

After she ca back to bed, not a single bone in wanted to sleep again.

Not because I wasn’t tired—gods, I could’ve sunk into her warmth and slipped into another dream. But I didn’t want a repeat of that disgraceful incident. Waking up with Reed’s scruffy mutt arms around once was enough trauma for a century.

I just lay there, still as a corpse — well, deader than usual — staring at her.

She didn’t say much. Just climbed into bed from the foot like she was sneaking into a warzone, tossed the blanket over herself like it could shield her from awkwardness, and turned her back to us. The ssage was clear: "Don’t push your luck."

So I didn’t.

So I stayed awake.

Not just to protect my pride, but because... I didn’t want to miss a second of her.

And most importantly, I stayed awake. Because the last ti I dozed off, I woke up wrapped around a damn werewolf like we were lovers in a romance novel.

Never. Again.

Clare, lying there between us, breathing softly. The subtle rise and fall of her chest. Her scent—earthy, wild, distinctly hers—soothing and maddening all at once. It did sothing to . Cald the storm in my head. Anchored sothing in my chest I hadn’t even known was adrift.

Her hair spilled over the pillow like dark ink. She mumbled once in her sleep and shifted, unconsciously curling just a little closer to my side, her fingers twitching against the sheets.

I didn’t move. I barely breathed. I just watched her. Listened.

I morized every curve of her face, the little scar above her eyebrow, the freckle on her collarbone that only showed when her shirt slipped slightly. I morized the way her lashes fluttered when she dread. The way her lips moved when she murmured sothing I couldn’t hear. The way her whole body relaxed only when she was truly safe.

Safe. With us. With .

She twitched a little in her sleep. Whimpered. Her brows drew together like she was fighting off the ghosts of her dreams again. I wanted to reach out, soothe her, pull her close, but I didn’t.

I just watched.

Not like a creep. Not like a predator.

But like a man who had nearly lost the only thing in this world that ever made him feel alive again.

I knew I didn’t deserve this mont. Not really.

Not after what happened to her brother.

Not with what I’ve been hiding.

But still... for now, I let myself pretend. Pretend I could protect her. That I could sohow undo the past and keep her untouched by the dark truths slithering just beneath the surface.

She’d ask soon. About him. About Clark.

I could see the questions burning in her eyes earlier. The hesitation. The fear.

And when she does ask...

Lying won’t save .

But the truth? That might break her.

So I stayed awake. Not just to avoid another vampire-wolf cuddling fiasco, but because I owed her this:

My presence. My promise.

If I couldn’t give her the truth yet, I could at least give her this silence. This stillness.

She didn’t stir again. She didn’t scream this ti.

No more nightmares.

Just peace.

And gods... even if it’s just for tonight, I’ll take it.

*******

I needed to up my ga.

Because the truth? It wasn’t going to stay buried much longer. Clare was sharp — sharper than any human had the right to be. And even if she weren’t, fate had a cruel habit of unraveling secrets when you least wanted them to co out.

And gods help ... when she finds out what happened to her twin, I’ll need sothing stronger than words to keep her from tearing apart- from hating .

Maybe if she loves — really loves — she’ll forgive .

Maybe.

That’s the only damn shot I’ve got.

I turned my eyes back to her sleeping form. Her body had relaxed, the stress and trauma of the last few days lting away in the safety of her own space. And though she hadn’t chosen — not yet — I had sothing Reed didn’t: I understood what loss does to a soul. I knew what it ant to carry guilt.

So yeah, I’d fight for her.

But not like before — not just clawing at the bond because fate said she was mine.

This ti, I’d make her choose . Not because of instinct. Not because of magic.

But because I earned her trust. Her affection. Her heart.

If I had to show up every damn day, prove to her she was safe with — I would.

If I had to hold back the bloodlust that her scent stirred in and let her co to on her terms — I’d do it.

If I had to go against my own kind, my own people — again — just to keep her from the nightmares that chased her into the dark — I would. Gladly.

Because if love was the only shield strong enough to withstand the truth...

Then I was going to build it. Brick by brick.

And when the mont ca — when she looked in the eye and asked the question I knew was coming — about him... about Clark...

I wouldn’t lie.

But I’d pray to every forgotten god that the look in her eyes would be rcy. Not hatred.