A Mate for the Vampire Rogue

Chris – POV Tick. Tock. That was the only sound echoing through this suffocating studio, and it was driving me insane. Each passing second stretched into eternity, the clock mocking me with every beat. Six months. That’s how long I’d been married. Six months since I signed my life away in the name of convenience. Six months since my so-called husband left me stranded on this island, claiming he had business to attend with my family. What a joke. The truth had slipped through cracks he thought I’d never see. He wasn’t just busy—he was entangled with another woman. And the cruel twist? She shared my name. He swore he loved me, whispered that our marriage was more than convenience, that it was a partnership, a bond. But the shadows in his eyes said otherwise. I should have known better. I should have listened to the instincts that clawed at me the day I said “yes.” Now here I was—alone, trapped, waiting. Waiting for the cop who was supposed to get me out of this mess, waiting for answers that refused to come. I leaned back against the cold chair, my fingers tapping an impatient rhythm against my thigh. Why was I being held for so long? I had done nothing wrong—at least, nothing that deserved this. Maybe it was punishment. Maybe it was fate reminding me of who I really was. The eldest child of a royal family. The disappointment. The one my parents had always called a “royal pain in their ass.” They weren’t wrong. I never fit their perfect mold, never bowed low enough or smiled wide enough to please them. And now, sitting in this miserable room with the clock still ticking away, I wondered if this was exactly what they wanted all along. For me to fail. For me to be reminded that I wasn’t untouchable. I straightened, biting down the sting of humiliation. If they thought this would break me, they were wrong. I might be trapped, I might be betrayed, but I was still Chris. Still the one who had survived years of being underestimated, dismissed, and used. And I would survive this, too. Because if there was one thing I’d learned from being part of this cursed family, it was this—sometimes, you had to let the world believe you were powerless before you showed them just how sharp your teeth really were. I was tired of waiting. With a sigh, I let my werewolf senses stretch out, desperate to catch anything other than the relentless tick of the clock above the bookshelf behind the dark maroon grand chair. The sound burrowed into my skull like a parasite. This wasn’t what I expected. Not from a guard’s study. The room was too polished—lush, pristine, and without a single personal touch. Not even a picture to hint at the man who worked here. It felt staged, like a cage draped in velvet. I thought back to why I was here in the first place. When I arrived on this island with my husband, our mission was supposed to be clear: expose the vampire rogues who had stolen land that rightfully belonged to my middle sister. Land that had been gifted to her by my parents before they retired, leaving me and my husband as rulers. But clarity had a way of dissolving into lies. The moment our boots touched this cursed soil, secrets began unraveling. My husband vanished soon after, leaving me alone to handle the mess. He claimed he was gathering reinforcements, but in truth? He left me to do the dirty work. One of my sister’s lands had already been overrun by guards loyal to that filthy vampire king—a disgrace of a man, despised even by his own mother. And believe me, that woman doesn’t mince her words. If she called him shameful, you knew he had crawled so deep into corruption there was no redemption left. I shifted in my chair, adjusting the hem of my cropped cream top. At least my outfit had survived the humiliation of being dragged in here—mostly. My white-gray hair, streaked with red, was still intact, thank the Goddess. My black leggings held their shape, sharp and clean. But I had lost one acrylic nail in the struggle, my crimson tip snapped clean off. Perfect. Just perfect. A queen in chains, stripped not by blades but by chipped polish and cheap humiliation. I clenched my jaw. As soon as I got out of this hellhole, I was booking an appointment to fix it. My nail. My pride. My confidence. All restored in one sitting. Because I refused—absolutely refused—to let them think they had broken me. Not the vampires. Not the guards. Not even my husband. Listening closely in this ungrateful underground prison of a building—tucked like a festering wound beneath my sister’s stolen property—I finally caught something. A voice. Deep. Rough. Dangerous. The sound slithered through the thick walls and coiled around my spine, stirring my wolf in a way that made no sense. My wolf, who had been restless and silent through all this humiliation, suddenly surged forward with a pulse of heat that nearly stole my breath. I froze. No. This couldn’t be happening. Judging from the stench that had clung to this place since I arrived—the iron tang of bloodsucking vampires, their decay masked with perfumes and smoke—I knew whoever that voice belonged to wasn’t one of mine. And yet, the way my wolf pressed against the inside of my skin, clawing, aching… it terrified me. A shiver ran down my neck, though the room wasn’t cold. My instincts whispered the truth I dreaded to face: this wasn’t coincidence. This was fate. I clenched my fists. No. Absolutely not. I am a married queen. Married to a royal werewolf whose name binds mine in the eyes of every court across the lands. A husband chosen not by the moon, not by my heart, but by bloodlines and politics. And he is not my mate. But whoever stood out there, hidden behind stone walls and the stench of vampires—he was. My wolf knew it. My body knew it. And the thought of it unraveling my carefully constructed life filled me with fury and a dangerous, reluctant thrill. Finally, unable to sit still a moment longer, I pushed myself up from the chair that had held me captive far too long. My legs ached from stillness, but my senses were sharp—my wolf on edge, alert. That was when I caught it. Another voice. My sister’s lover. And with it, the faintest trace of something I hadn’t expected to find here in this suffocating den of vampires—the scent of another werewolf. My heart clenched. The smell was faint but undeniable, cutting through the layers of blood and rot that choked the air. I turned, focusing on the direction of the sound. Footsteps grew louder, deliberate at first, then hurried, pounding against stone. Then came the voice again—raw, trembling, cracking as though carrying the weight of his whole world. “What the—no. No… it can’t be…” His tone hit me like a blade. He sounded like a man staring into the abyss. As if some truth had just been carved into his chest and he couldn’t breathe through it. The footsteps broke into a sprint, echoing through the corridor until his voice rose into a shout. “No! This can’t be true! You will ruin me if this is true!” The door burst open with a violent slam, the sound rattling the clock on the wall and reverberating through my ribs. And then he stood there. A breathtaking vision I hadn’t been prepared for. Slim, yet carved with lean muscle that spoke of strength honed in discipline. His blond hair gleamed even in the dim light, the shade so sharp against his sun-touched skin it made him look almost unreal. But it was his eyes—light green, piercing, filled with fury and something dangerously close to recognition—that rooted me in place. His uniform clung to his frame, marking him as a guard, but it was the tattoos curling around his arms that drew my gaze next. Black ink etched in designs I didn’t recognize but that made my pulse stumble. He looked like temptation wrapped in defiance, like everything my wolf wanted and everything my mind screamed to avoid. And gods help me, everything about him was simply… delicious.