Claimed by the Alpha and the Vampire Prince: Masquerading as a Man-Chapter 35: Consumed

Clare’s POV:

The moment Blaze realized I was a girl, something in him shifted. It wasn’t just shock—it was something worse. Like a predator realizing its prey was far more tempting than it first appeared. His whole demeanor changed, his expression slipping into something unreadable, something I didn’t want to decipher.

He had told me to wash up, practically sneering about how I reeked of the aftermath with Reed. But could I really call it sex? My mouth had been violated, used in a way that felt mechanical, dehumanizing. I had heard my friends whisper about it before, laughing, sharing stories. But this...this had been nothing like that. This had been power, force, and something far more primal. And now Blaze was looking at me as if I had just transformed into a prize he had already won.

The second he disappeared, I had thought—hoped—that maybe, just maybe, I had time. Time to shower quickly and slip away before he came back. But I had underestimated a vampire’s speed.

Because one moment I was rinsing the soap from my skin, trying to scrub off the filth that still clung to me, and the next—

I felt him.

Not heard. Not saw. Felt.

A shift in the air. The weight of something that wasn’t supposed to be there. A predator standing too close.

I snapped my eyes open, my breath freezing in my throat.

Blaze stood right in front of me, completely still, watching.

His red eyes drank me in, slow and deliberate. Like he was etching the image into his mind, carving it there with jagged, obsessive strokes.

Panic hit me like a slap. My hands flew up to cover myself as I stumbled back, slipping slightly against the wet tiles.

He didn’t move. He didn’t blink.

He just smirked.

And that was somehow more terrifying than if he had lunged.

I was trapped.

My body moved on instinct. The moment I saw the clothes hanging behind him, I lunged—a desperate attempt to grab something, anything, that could cover me.

But I wasn’t fast enough.

Blaze snatched the bundle away before my fingers could so much as graze the fabric. His grip was iron, his expression dark with amusement. He was playing with me. Like a cat with a half-dead mouse.

I swallowed hard, taking a step back, but the cold tile against my bare skin reminded me there was nowhere to go.

"You think you can just put these on?" His voice was low, smooth, but there was an edge to it. A quiet threat wrapped in velvet. "Who told you that you were allowed to get dressed?"

His words coiled around me like barbed wire.

I opened my mouth—to argue, to beg, I wasn’t even sure—but before I could speak, something was shoved into my hands.

A toothbrush.

"Brush."

It wasn’t a request. It was a command.

I stared at it, at him, confusion warring with the overwhelming sense of dread curling in my stomach.

He wasn’t looking at me like a person.

He was looking at me like something to be corrected.

I brushed my teeth, his eyes never leaving my mouth.

The whole time.

Watching. Studying. Possessing.

The bristles scraped against my gums as I hurried through it, my hands shaking slightly. The taste of mint was a relief—a sharp contrast to the filth I could still feel lingering on me.

But I barely had time to spit before his lips crashed onto mine.

I didn’t even see him move.

A startled noise got caught in my throat—half gasp, half whimper. My body went rigid, the cold air of the shower forgotten. This wasn’t what I expected.

I thought he’d drink from me. That was what he did, right? That was what monsters like him did. They sucked you dry and left you with just enough to crawl away.

And then he started kissing my neck nibbling and I knew what happens next.

I braced for the pain, for the sharp puncture of his fangs slicing into my skin.

And he bit me.

But this time... this time it was different.

There was no searing pain. No sense of my life being drained from my veins.

This felt like something else. Something worse.

It was a slow, dragging pull, like being unraveled from the inside out. Like he was taking something from me—but leaving something behind.

And then, it hit me.

A rush.

A dizzying, all-consuming need.

Like a drug. But more potent than anything I had ever touched.

It pooled in my stomach, lower, twisting into something unfamiliar—something wrong.

And his hands—God, his hands—were everywhere.

Fondling. Squeezing. Claiming.

I gasped against his lips, my mind torn between confusion, shame, and something my body didn’t quite understand.

I wasn’t supposed to feel like this.

This wasn’t supposed to feel good.

I was spiraling.

My mind screamed that something was wrong—terribly, horribly wrong—but my body?

My body was betraying me.

A feverish heat coiled inside me, tightening like a noose, spreading from where his lips had pressed against my skin, where his fangs had scraped into my flesh. My breath hitched, chest rising and falling too fast, too shallow.

This wasn’t normal. This wasn’t me.

But when he kissed me again?

I melted.

A soft, broken sound slipped from my lips, and God help me, I kissed him back.

He made a low, pleased noise in the back of his throat—a dark chuckle, like he had expected this, like he had been waiting for me to surrender.

I didn’t even realize I had grabbed onto his arms until I felt the iron-hard muscle beneath my trembling fingers.

I should pull away. I should fight.

But my head was spinning, my legs weak.

Why did this feel so good?

Blaze pulled me closer, and my bare, wet skin collided with his.

Too close.

I gasped against his mouth as something hard and hot pressed against my stomach. My entire body jolted at the realization, but instead of disgust, instead of panic, a strange shiver ran up my spine.

What was happening to me?

Blaze laughed.

Low. Husky. Triumphant.

"Oh, pet," he murmured, dragging his lips along my jaw, down my throat where my pulse thundered beneath his mouth.

His fingers ghosted down my side, feather-light but possessive. Testing. Teasing.

My breath hitched, and I didn’t know if it was from fear or something else.

Something much, much worse.

Blaze hummed, and I felt his smile against my neck.

"That’s adorable."

And then he bit down.

Not deep. Not enough to drink.

But enough to remind me exactly who he was.

And exactly what I was becoming.

******

I don’t know when it happened.

One moment, I was trying to grasp reality, trying to remind myself that this wasn’t normal, that I shouldn’t feel this way. That I shouldn’t want—

And then his hand was between my legs.

I jolted, a strangled sound tearing from my throat, but he didn’t stop.

Didn’t hesitate.

I couldn’t think. My body reacted before my mind could catch up, every nerve alight, burning, betraying me.

He whispered something against my ear, something low and indecipherable, his breath hot against my skin, and my body trembled in response.

A pressure—tight, unbearable, overwhelming—coiled deep inside me, winding tighter and tighter until I thought I might shatter.

And then—

I did.

A sharp cry left my lips as a wave of something—something terrifying, something intoxicating—ripped through me. My vision blurred, my legs barely able to hold me upright.

I might have collapsed had he not caught me.

And then, somehow, I was bent over.

I couldn’t even remember how it happened, but I was helpless beneath him, against him. My breath came in short, desperate gasps, my head swimming from the lingering euphoria he had forced out of me.

And then—he was inside.

A sharp, overwhelming stretch, a feeling so foreign I gasped.

God—what was happening to me?

His grip was tight, his touch branding. My skin burned where he held me. He murmured things I didn’t understand, words slipping between dark groans and breathless praises.

And when that wave crashed over me again, when I felt myself spiral into that abyss a second time, I think I might have cried out his name.

Before the world blinked into darkness.