Claimed by the Alpha and the Vampire Prince: Masquerading as a Man Chapter 121: Reed’s Wolf

CLARE POV:

I woke up wrapped in a bundle of blankets and silence.

No cold arm around my waist.

No warm chest pressed against my back.

Just .

And for once — thank the gods — no undead spoons or furry furnace snuggles.

But then... I slled sothing.

Delicious.

The sll of sothing delicious wafting through the air—eggs, maybe... toast? My stomach grumbled before my brain even fully caught up. It slled like ho. Like normalcy.

My stomach growled like it hadn’t eaten in days. The scent wafted through the apartnt — buttery, warm, maybe even a little sweet. Not vampire-blood-drenched nightmares. Not dried fear and sweat. Just... breakfast.

I blinked, pushing off the covers and sitting up. The bed was empty. No Blaze. No Reed. Just and my blanket cocoon. And gods, I hadn’t felt this alone in days—in the best possible way.

Still groggy, I padded out of the room and followed the scent like a bloodhound curiosity dragging faster than I could think. It led to the kitchen—my kitchen—where I found Reed flipping sothing in a pan with a casual ease that made freeze in the doorway..

Reed.

Flipping an egg like he belonged on the cover of Wolf Weekly: Dostic Edition. The apron tied around his waist (where the hell did he find my apron??), the slight curl of his bicep when he lifted the pan — it all felt like a fever dream. Like I’d walked into so parallel version of reality where werewolves made breakfast in human apartnts.

He didn’t even turn to look at . Just said, "Oh, you’re awake," casually, like we weren’t living in the middle of a supernatural soap opera.

I blinked. "You cook?" I asked, baffled.

Reed chuckled, low and warm, the kind of sound that weirdly settled the jagged parts of . "Even though I’m a wolf, I still like cooked food." He turned then, tossing that cheeky, smug grin of his — the one that probably got him out of a hundred bad situations with nothing but a wink.

And for a mont — just one insane mont — he didn’t look like a dangerous werewolf, or the reason I woke up tangled between two feuding supernatural creatures last night.

He looked like the boy next door.

A guy I could’ve t in college, who maybe helped carry groceries upstairs once and made stupid puns about eggs while flipping them for brunch.

Was I... still dreaming?

I rubbed my eyes a little, half-expecting to find a vampire hanging upside down from the ceiling or a claw mark across the wall.

Nope.

Just Reed. In my kitchen. Cooking breakfast. Like this was normal.

What the hell kind of reality was this now?

"You’re staring," he teased, nudging the pan like a smug idiot.

"I’m trying to figure out if I’m still asleep," I muttered.

"Why? Because I’m making you breakfast and not baring fangs?" he asked, tossing so chopped veggies into the pan. "I have layers, you know. I’m not just muscles, claws, and unholy hotness."

"You really said that out loud, huh?"

"Hey, if I don’t hype myself up, who will?"

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at the corner of my mouth. Maybe it was the sll of real food. Maybe it was the quiet. Maybe it was the fact that for once, no one was trying to kill, chase, or bite .

"Co have a seat and tell how it tastes," Reed said, his voice light, teasing — like this was so regular Saturday morning and not the aftermath of near-death, fangs, and fur. Gesturing to the plate he’s just set on the counter like he’s auditioning for Top Chef: Supernatural Edition.

I don’t need to be told twice. My stomach practically launches forward.

I slide onto the stool, eyeing the plate suspiciously for half a second before hunger wins. Eggs—fluffy and golden. Toast—just the right amount of brown. There’s even a few sautéed veggies on the side, and was that... coffee brewing?

"You’re really going all out," I mutter, picking up the fork.

"Only the best for my mate," he says, not even bothering to hide the grin in his voice.

I shoot him a look. "We’re still working out what that word even ans to , rember?"

"Right, right," he says, holding his hands up in surrender, but I can still see the smugness in his eyes. "Eat first, philosophical debates later."

I stab a forkful of egg, pop it in my mouth... and okay, damn.

"You trying to bribe with food?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Is it working?" he grinned, pouring two mugs of coffee and sliding one my way.

"Depends on how this tastes," I said, stabbing a piece of egg and shoveling it into my mouth.

I chew slowly, pretending to be more critical than I am, just to make him sweat. "Not bad."

"Not bad?" He sounds offended.

I shrug with a faux-casual tone. "Could use a bit more salt."

He gasps dramatically. "Wow. Wounded. Right here." He presses a hand to his chest like I just insulted his grandma.

I snort mid-bite. "Relax, Gordon Ramsay. It’s actually really good."

That earns a satisfied smirk as he leans against the counter across from . "Told you. You keep around long enough, I might just cook every morning."

My brain wants to shoot back a sarcastic reply, sothing witty and distant—but the warmth from the food, the quiet hum of the morning, and the way he’s looking at with a soft kind of hope—it just makes ... pause.

No monsters. No blood. Just breakfast.

"I could get used to this," I say softly, before I can stop myself.

His eyes brighten just a little at that.

So yeah, I’m still figuring this whole mate thing out. But right now, the eggs are warm, the tension is gone, and Reed looks like soone I might be able to trust... eventually.

Maybe.

It was... good. Really good. Not like gourt-chef Michelin-star level, but warm, satisfying, and made with enough care to punch a little in the gut.

"I swear," I said around a mouthful, "if you keep feeding like this, I might forget you’re part-wolf."

Reed chuckled and took the seat across from . "That’s the plan. Win you over with eggs, one breakfast at a ti."

I snorted softly. "You’re ridiculous."

He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table, eyes flicking to mine. "Maybe. But I’m serious about making things better. For you. For all of this."

I paused mid-bite. There it was again — that thread of sothing heavier under his words. Like he was trying, really trying, to make up for sothing I hadn’t even figured out yet.

I just nodded, too tired to unpack any of it this early.

One bite at a ti. One question at a ti. Maybe even one secret at a ti.

But right now?This breakfast?This weird, warm sliver of calm in the middle of supernatural chaos?

I’d take it.

"Where’s Blaze?" I asked, still munching on my breakfast.

Reed was so close to — almost hovering — watching every bite I took like I might vanish if he blinked. He shrugged his shoulders casually, though I caught the slight twitch in his jaw.

"He went out," he said, trying to sound nonchalant, but there was a tinge of disappointnt in his voice. I guessed he didn’t love that I was asking about Blaze.

"Can you do a favor?" he asked suddenly.

I laughed, setting my fork down and giving him a knowing look. "I knew free breakfast was too good to be true. Alright, shoot."

"No, no — it’s not like that!" he said quickly, jumping up and shaking his head in denial, his cheeks a little flushed. "You can say no if you’re scared."

I stopped eating and turned to look at him more seriously. "Reed, I think I’ve seen enough terrifying things in the last few days to last a lifeti. What’s one more?"

He hesitated, running a hand through his hair, clearly flustered. "It’s my wolf," he finally said, eyes not quite eting mine. "He... wants to talk to you. If that’s okay?"

"Talk to ?" I echoed, confused. "You an like... shift?"

His head snapped up. "No! No, not yet. Maybe another day for that. I an... he wants to give him control for a bit. So he can talk to you directly. Through ."

I blinked. "You an like... possession?"

God, this supernatural stuff just keeps leveling up.

"He swears he won’t hurt you," Reed added quickly. "He just... really wants to et you properly."

I didn’t fully get what he ant by "giving control to his wolf," but after everything I’d seen — vampires, blood feasts, creepy twins — this felt ta in comparison. I nodded slowly.

Reed’s eyes lit up, a flicker of excitent dancing in his brown irises. "Don’t be afraid, okay?" he said softly.

"I’m not," I whispered.

And then I saw it — his eyes slowly shifting from brown to a deep, glowing gold. The change was almost hypnotic. When they were completely yellow, sothing in his expression shifted, too. Calr. Wiser. Still Reed’s face, still his voice — but sothing ancient and patient sat behind his gaze now.

"Hello, mate," he said, voice slightly deeper, more composed.