Claimed by the Alpha and the Vampire Prince: Masquerading as a Man-Chapter 44: Vampire Bite

Clare’s POV:

The silence in the room grew heavier, thick with something unspoken—something dark, pressing against my skin like invisible fingers. The flickering light overhead buzzed faintly, casting erratic shadows that seemed to crawl across the walls. My heartbeat pounded against my ribs, too loud, too fast, like a rabbit caught in a snare.

I reached up with trembling fingers and started with the wig, peeling it away slowly. The glue made it difficult, tugging at my scalp as I freed my dark brown waves. As soon as my hair spilled down my shoulders, I felt it—the shift in the air.

Blaze’s eyes darkened, his entire body going eerily still, like a predator locking onto its prey.

I forced my gaze away from him. I couldn’t meet his eyes.

I moved to my hoodie next, my fingers clumsy, the fabric suddenly feeling too heavy, too suffocating. I peeled it off, shivering as the cold air licked at my skin. Goosebumps rose along my arms, whether from the temperature or from the way Blaze was watching me, I wasn’t sure.

Then came the T-shirt.

I hesitated, fingers twitching at the hem. My chest was still bound beneath, still hidden. I wouldn’t be completely bare, and yet—

"Trust me, pet," Blaze’s voice cut through the stillness, smooth as silk but sharp as a blade. "You don’t want me to do it for you."

A cold shiver crawled down my spine.

His tone wasn’t a threat. No, it was worse than that.

It was a promise.

The moment the words left his mouth, I knew I didn’t have a choice.

I didn’t need to be told twice.

Swallowing hard, I shut my eyes and yanked my shirt over my head in one quick motion, the fabric slipping from my fingers like a lifeline being cut. The cold air bit at my exposed skin, raising goosebumps in its wake. My chest was still bound—tightly wrapped, a final shield between me and the inevitable—but it felt flimsy, useless.

My breath hitched. My pulse pounded against my throat.

I reached for the lesser evil first. My sweatpants.

The elastic waistband gave way too easily as I pushed them down, the soft rustle deafening in the otherwise silent room. They pooled around my ankles before I stepped out of them, leaving me standing in nothing but my bindings and a thin scrap of fabric that barely counted as underwear.

And still, I couldn’t look at him.

My eyes remained clamped shut, refusing to meet whatever expression was on his face—whether it was hunger, amusement, or something darker, something I wasn’t ready to name.

For a long, stretching second, nothing happened.

Then—

A rush of air.

A presence—sudden, overwhelming.

Before I could react, I felt him behind me.

Close.

Too close.

The coldness of him seeped into my bare skin, sinking into my bones like ice.

Blaze.

I could hear him breathe—or maybe that was me, my own ragged gasps filling the empty space between us.

I didn’t dare move.

Didn’t dare open my eyes.

The room itself seemed to shrink, suffocating, the air thick with something electric, something that sent a shiver slithering down my spine.

I could feel him.

Not just his presence—his gaze.

Dragging over every inch of exposed skin like a phantom touch, like an unspoken claim.

My knees threatened to buckle.

And then—

A single, cold fingertip ghosted over my shoulder.

A sharp breath hitched in my throat as the room seemed to shrink around me. My chest rose and fell too quickly, my bare skin hypersensitive to the cold air—and to the fact that Blaze was no longer sitting across the room.

I hadn’t heard him move.

But I felt him.

A rush of air. The faintest whisper of movement. Then—warmth, right behind me.

My stomach twisted as I clenched my eyes shut even tighter, every nerve in my body on high alert.

"You stopped again, pet," Blaze murmured, his voice brushing against the back of my neck like a ghostly caress.

I swallowed hard, my fingers curling into trembling fists at my sides.

He was too close. Close enough that I could feel the cold radiating from his skin, a stark contrast to the heat creeping up my spine. Close enough that I could almost hear the slow, deliberate inhale he took—like he was savoring something.

Then, before I could even think to move—

Cold fingers trailed down my arm, featherlight, almost gentle.

Almost.

"Tell me," he mused, his breath chilling against my skin. "Why don’t you obey?"

I didn’t answer.

Couldn’t.

My lips parted, but no sound came. My heart was beating too loud, too fast, drowning every thought and word I could’ve possibly formed.

Then his fingers moved—not softly this time.

He gripped my wrapped chest from behind, not cruelly, but firmly, his nails grazing skin through the fabric. My body stiffened.

"You think silence will save you?" he asked, tone dark, amused. "Or maybe you’re hoping I’ll show you mercy?"

I could only shake my head—barely, a small twitch—too frozen to do more.

"No, pet," he whispered, his mouth now beside my ear. "Mercy is for the living."

And just like that, I knew—whatever came next, I had stepped into the heart of the monster’s den.

And it was far too late to run.

Before I could form words—before I could even breathe—there was a sudden stillness, like the entire world held its breath.

Then, his fangs sank into my neck.

I gasped.

It wasn’t pain—it should’ve been—but instead it was heat, a wicked, rising warmth that flooded my entire body like molten fire. My legs trembled. My fingers curled involuntarily. My lungs forgot how to breathe, caught between panic and something far more dangerous. Pleasure. A terrifying, all-consuming pleasure.

It rolled over me like a drug, fogging my thoughts, leaving only sensation. His mouth on my skin, his cold hands gripping my waist, his breath brushing along my ear as he drank in long, slow pulls. I could feel my heartbeat struggling—wild, desperate, confused.

And God help me, I wanted more.

My knees buckled slightly, but he held me up with unnatural strength. I knew this was wrong, I knew I should pull away, fight, scream—but my body betrayed me, responding to him like he owned it. Maybe he did.

When he pulled back, I was breathless. Shaking.

He licked the bite gently, sealing it, and whispered, voice dark and possessive, "Now, tell me again why you thought you could deny me?"

Fuck, I wanted him. Craved his touch like it was the only thing keeping me tethered to reality. And when he released me from his hold, I couldn’t stop the wave of disappointment that crashed over me. My body screamed for relief, my skin buzzing, nerves raw.

"Don’t worry, pet," he whispered, his voice low and sinful against my ear. "I’ll take good care of you."

He nibbled at my earlobe, sending a delicious shiver cascading down my spine, pooling low and deep at my center. Every nerve lit up, heat flooding through me like liquid fire.

Then his hands moved to the wrap around my chest—slow, deliberate—and began to unwrap it. Slowly. Frustratingly slow. Vampires were known for their speed, but he was toying with me, savoring every second like I was some rare delicacy.

He stepped in front of me, his gaze locking with mine as he tilted my chin up. In his dark eyes, emotions churned—wild, unreadable, but not entirely cold anymore. Something had shifted. The ice in him cracked, just a little.

Then his lips were on mine, and the fire that had been smoldering inside me roared to life, fierce and unrelenting. His kiss wasn’t gentle—it was claiming, consuming, and I sank into it helplessly. fгeewёbnoѵel.cσm

His hands, cold as winter shadow, slid over my skin, a sharp contrast to the heat burning under my flesh. Each touch was a spark. Each caress a trail of flame. The wrap on my chest loosened, and the chill of the air hit my skin just as his hands closed over me, possessive, demanding.

I gasped, my hands wrapping around his neck for balance—maybe even for sanity. His cold touch didn’t smother the heat—it fed it, until it felt like my body would unravel in his hands.

The bindings around my chest gave way, the cloth whispering to the floor like it, too, knew this was a point of no return. Blaze didn’t hesitate. His hands moved with a kind of reverent hunger—cold against the fever building under my skin, and yet somehow, it only made me burn hotter.

When he touched me, it wasn’t gentle—it was deliberate, claiming, like he was tracing something that already belonged to him. His hands were icy, a sharp contrast to the warmth pulsing beneath my skin, but they left trails of heat in their wake, lighting fires where logic should’ve lived.

I gasped, clinging to him, unsure if it was out of need or fear. Maybe both. He didn’t speak—he didn’t have to. His eyes were dark pools of something ancient and endless, drinking me in like I was a secret he’d waited centuries to uncover.