Claimed by the Alpha and the Vampire Prince: Masquerading as a Man-Chapter 57: Bleeding At Her Center

Reed POV:

"Feisty. Me likey."

That was my wolf’s first stupid thought as the human—no, she—exploded in my face with enough rage to shake the room. A minute ago, she was a cowering thing, clinging to secrecy like it could save her. Now she was snapping like a kitten that didn’t know she was made of glass.

Cute.

But the tone?

The audacity.

No one speaks to me like that. Not even my mother since I was declared heir to the crown of the Alpha king. Not since the authority of an Alpha king started to burn in my blood my veins. Only the Alpha king, my father was able to evoke submission from my wolf. That tone would have meant death from anyone else. But she... this fragile, furious little thing... she spoke down to me. Mocked me. Compared me to that blood-sucking corpse like I was some half-baked villain from a horror movie. Though her description of dracula wanna be was funny.

And my wolf—my damn traitorous wolf—was listening to her. Submitting. Curling low in my mind like she held some untouchable authority.

What the fuck?

It was supposed to be me dragging him back from violence, not the other way around. My fingers itched to teach her respect. To grab her, slam her against the wall, and remind her what kind of monster she was playing with.

But I didn’t move.

Because then... she did.

Her body doubled over, hands clutching her stomach, and her scent—

Gods.

Her scent changed.

It coiled around me like invisible hands, sticky-sweet and laced with something richer, darker, primal. Desire. Earth. Mint. Sex. Hunger. Like a she-wolf in heat—but this wasn’t possible. She didn’t have a wolf. She was human.

Human.

They didn’t go into heat. They didn’t change their scent like that. They didn’t—

Then the word slipped past my lips, low and growling:

"Mate."

It wasn’t a question.

It was a sentence.

My wolf surged forward so fast, I nearly dropped to my knees. His focus sharp, laser-cut. For once, he didn’t want blood or submission.

He wanted her.

And in that instant, I realized something terrifying:

This wasn’t infatuation.

This wasn’t lust.

This wasn’t curiosity, or some warped revenge for making me question who I was.

This was fate.

And it chose her.

A human.

A defective, lying, maddening, foul-mouthed, bleeding, beautiful disaster of a girl... and my wolf was already kneeling at her feet.

I refused to admit it.

A mere human.

A stupid, fragile, deceptive human.

She couldn’t—wouldn’t—be my mate.

But the moment the scent of her blood hit the air, everything—everything—went still.

My wolf stopped pacing.

My lungs locked.

And my brain short-circuited as instinct took the reins.

She was bleeding.

Something had hurt her.

My body moved before I could think. My hands—now claws—retracted as I scooped her into my arms, and for the first time in my life, I did something gently. Like she was porcelain. Like one wrong move would shatter her. She thrashed, cursing like she could ward me off with words, but I didn’t hear any of them.

All I saw was the pain in her face.

She curled up on the bed, arms wrapped around her stomach, face twisted, eyes squeezed shut. Her breath came in quick, shallow gasps. Her scent, sweet and heady just moments ago, was now layered with something metallic—and wrong.

Then I saw it.

The blood.

Staining the center of her pants. Dripping in slow, cruel blooms.

From between her legs.

My heart fucking stopped.

Who the fuck had done this to her?

My wolf roared inside me, claws shredding the walls of my head, demanding blood. Vengeance. Retribution.

I didn’t think. I couldn’t.

The scent of her blood was driving me insane. Not the alluring kind—the kind that made every nerve in my body scream danger.

She was in pain. Crying. Curling into herself.

And bleeding.

From her center.

The place no one else was ever supposed to touch. The place my wolf already called ours.

I yanked her pants down before I even knew what I was doing—before she could stop me, before logic could catch up with fear—and that’s when I saw it.

Her panties soaked in blood.

Crimson. Bright. Fresh.

"What the fuck..." the words came out broken, barely a whisper.

Why was she bleeding... there?

Was she torn? Had someone... forced her?

Rage like I’ve never known filled me. My skin cracked, bones threatening to shift again. My wolf was howling, pacing, snarling, demanding vengeance. Demanding names. Demanding blood in return.

"Who did this to you?" My voice dropped, guttural, barely human. "Tell me now."

But she didn’t. She just glared at me through the pain, like I was the threat.

"Why the fuck are you bleeding from your cunt?" I spat, the word foreign and terrifying on my tongue. "What kind of injury is this?"

She covered herself, trembling, trying to shrink into the mattress.

But I couldn’t look away.

There was so much blood.

Was she dying?

Was it internal?

Was it my fault?

No—someone did this.

And I was going to find them.

And tear them apart.

I scanned her for wounds, but there was no gash. No visible injury. Just that stain.

Her center.

Her core.

The sacred part.

Someone touched her.

Someone hurt her.

And I didn’t know how, or when, or why—but someone had violated her, and I had missed it.

I failed.

"Who did this to you?" I growled low, voice shaking. "Who touched you?"

But she didn’t answer.

She just whimpered, curling tighter, whispering curses through clenched teeth.

I had seen battlefield wounds. I had gutted enemies and walked through carnage. But this? Her in pain like this, blood between her thighs?

It gutted me.

I was losing my fucking mind.

She wouldn’t tell me what happened. Who touched her. Who hurt her.

I couldn’t call a pack doctor—not without exposing her to him. To my father. If he caught wind of her... of this—whatever the hell this was—she’d be dead before sunrise. Or worse.

And I didn’t know any human doctors. What the fuck would I even say? "Hey, I’ve got a human girl bleeding from between her legs and I don’t know if it’s normal or if someone ripped her open, can you fix her?"

No. No one could know. No one could know.

She screamed again. Curled tighter, her hands clutching her stomach like she was trying to hold herself together.

My heart dropped straight to the fucking floor.

That sound—like something inside her was tearing apart—it shredded my insides. My wolf whimpered, then snarled. Fix it. He didn’t care how. He just wanted her safe.

But I didn’t know how.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" I ran both hands through my hair, yanking at it like that would squeeze some clarity out of my brain.

What if she was dying?

What if she bled out right here—on this shitty mattress in my shitty cabin under my watch?

I sat beside her, trying not to shake. Trying to remember what I knew about humans. Which, spoiler: wasn’t much.

My hand hovered over her belly. She flinched.

I pulled back. I wanted to touch her. To take the pain. But I didn’t even know what was wrong.

"Please," I said, my voice barely mine, "just tell me what to do."

I don’t beg.

Alphas don’t beg.

But right now?

I would beg the gods themselves if it meant she stopped hurting.