ALPHA'S FATED MATE

The vampire man

~~~Emily

I remembered when she burned me. My stepmother. She thought I stole her diamond necklace.

“You little thief,” she’d screamed. “First you come into my home, and now you’re stealing from me? I’ll teach you a lesson you’ll never forget.”

Then came the iron. Scalding hot, searing my skin. The pain was unbearable—I screamed until my throat bled.

When she finally left me there, curled on the floor like garbage, I thought I was going to die.

But then… the pain eased. I watched in horror, and wonder, as my skin began to heal, right before my eyes. The blistered flesh smoothed. The burn vanished.

She later found the necklace in a worker’s bag.

She never apologized. And I never asked her to.

I didn’t care. Not anymore.

I exhaled slowly, bringing my fingers to my face, brushing over the places she'd struck. Then down to my neck.

I tugged the collar of my dress aside and stared at the spot just below my shoulder.

A mark.

Faint. Barely there. But real.

A strange heat buzzed beneath my skin as I touched it.

I blinked—and it was gone.

Just like that.

Maybe my mind was playing tricks on me.

I desperately wished that were the case.

But deep down, I knew the truth.

It wasn’t an illusion.

It was real.

The mark was real. The feeling was real.

But what did it mean?

I stared at the spot on my shoulder a moment longer, heart pounding with something dangerously close to fear. And then—his face. Not fully formed, but there.

The vampire man.

Silver hair like moonlight.

Glowing blue eyes that didn’t belong to this world.

I let the dress fall back into place, the fabric brushing against my skin like a lie I was being forced to wear.

The silence in the bathroom thickened around me, pressing in like the house itself was holding its breath.

I leaned on the sink, fingers trailing along the cold porcelain. My reflection looked back at me—familiar, yet entirely foreign.

“Who are you?” I whispered. “What did you do to me?”

Moments later, a maid knocked softly and ushered me out into another room—far nicer than the last. This one had blue-and-white walls, a large window, and a bed so soft it almost looked like it could swallow me whole.

Other maids filed in behind her, silent but efficient. They began to prepare me.

Like a lamb being fattened for s*******r.

They washed my hair, brushed it, combed it, then one of them announced, “Madam wants it dyed brown. To match the family.”

Apparently, my red hair wasn’t “appropriate.”

I didn’t argue. Let them do what they wanted. They could change my appearance, but not my mind. Not my memories.

When they finally finished, they left me alone. I was just about to collapse onto the bed when Evelyn walked in—perfect, smug, and glowing with cruelty.

I rolled my eyes and didn’t bother to stand.

“Not so fast, dear sister,” she purred, circling me like a predator sizing up its prey.

I was too tired to play her games.

She stopped in front of me, lips curling. “Wow. I’m impressed. You almost look like me. Like a real Modory heiress. If only we could scrub off the poverty stench, you’d be perfect.”

I said nothing.

She stepped back with a smile. “Enjoy your night, sis. Oh—and before I forget—the Fuerte will be arriving soon. Make sure you're on your best behavior.”

A pause.

“Or else.”

With that, she turned on her heel and left.

I collapsed onto the bed with a sigh, the mattress cool beneath my aching body. I stared up at the ceiling, my thoughts spinning.

Maybe it won’t be so bad.

I said it out loud.

Tried to believe it.

But deep down, I knew it was just wishful thinking.

~~~~~~~

~~~Dominic

"Why can’t I sense her?" I groaned, frustration boiling inside me as I tried again—reaching out, stretching my senses, hoping for even a flicker of that connection.

Nothing.

Just like the last time.

And the time before that.

“Damnit!” I shouted, slamming my fist into the nearest tree. The bark cracked beneath my knuckles, but the pain was dull—nothing compared to the storm churning in my chest.

I’d come to the woods behind the mansion, desperate to reconnect to whatever had happened that day in the forest. The memory haunted me: her scent, the mark, the overwhelming surge of instinct and need.

But not her face.

Never her face.

That blank spot in my memory gnawed at me like a curse. I thought maybe, just maybe, I could use the bond to find her. Track her. Feel her.

But there was nothing.

No pull. No warmth. No presence.

Maybe I didn’t finish the bond.

Or maybe she resisted it.

Either way, it pissed me off—and the looming wedding felt like a noose tightening around my neck with every passing second.