Chapter 113: Supernatural mate-bond triangle

Chapter 113: Supernatural mate-bond triangle CLARE POV Okay... so this mate thingy works even if there isn’t any love? I sipped the coffee slowly, letting the warmth burn down my throat, grounding me just enough to stop the wave of spiraling thoughts. They were still there—threatening to choke me—but at least now they whispered instead of screamed. Great. Just freaking great. I was linked to these two unbearable creatures by some ancient magical biological bond that didn’t even care if I liked them, let alone loved them. So I’m magically, spiritually, biologically, or whatever-the-hell-ly bound to two unbearable supernatural creatures who keep glaring at each other like they’re seconds away from ripping out each other’s throats. And not in a sexy vampire-wolf-fantasy way either. No, this is pure, raw, territorial hatred, wrapped up in two walking, breathing, muscle-packed nightmares. Gods help me. Apparently, I’m the universe’s punchline. W What a mess. The worst part? I didn’t feel nothing. That was the real kicker. That pull I kept trying to ignore? It wasn’t going anywhere. It curled low in my chest every time they looked at me, like a heatwave beneath my ribs—suffocating, seductive, terrifying. But love? No. Not yet. Maybe never. And I wasn’t going to let some mystical vampire-wolf mating lottery decide that for me. I sat back down on the couch, catching both Reed and Blaze giving each other the side-eye like two territorial dogs fighting over a bone. And I was the damn bone. I bit the inside of my cheek, glancing at Blaze for just a second longer than I meant to. That dream—no, nightmare—was still clinging to my skin like smoke. The way Thelia looked at me, him on that table, blood pouring out of him like wine for monsters. Her voice still echoed in my head. And Thelia... her words wouldn’t leave me alone. "You taste like him." My heart twisted at the thought. Who was him? I wanted to believe it wasn’t Clark. I needed to believe it wasn’t. But the look in her eyes when she said it. The hunger. The recognition. She knew him. Which meant Blaze might know him too. Might have seen what happened to him. Might have been part of it. I wanted to ask so badly. Wanted to scream the question at Blaze until he gave me the truth. Clark. Was that the name she didn’t say? Was Blaze involved in what happened to him? Was that why they kept looking at me weird—like I was a ghost they never thought they’d see again? My fingers tightened around the ceramic mug. I could still hear him laughing—calling me stupid, dense, his usual teasing remarks that somehow always felt more like affection than insults. I missed that. Missed him. Gods, I wanted to scream the question into Blaze’s face—Did you know him? Did you know Clark? Did you watch him die? Did you do nothing? Did you— But I couldn’t. Not with Reed still here. Not with his eyes burning holes through the back of Blaze’s skull every time the vampire breathed too close to me. Reed was still here, planted to my left like a stubborn tree with sharp teeth and a sharp tongue, and there was no way I was asking something like that in front of him. Not when I didn’t even fully understand what kind of history lay tangled between all of us. So I swallowed it. Swallowed the scream. Swallowed the panic. Swallowed the desperate need to know. There’d be a time for it. A moment when it would just be me and Blaze, and no distractions, no wolves with murder-eyes hovering around us. When I could ask him—look him in those storm-colored eyes and say, Tell me the truth. Please. Tell me if he was involved. Tell me if you were part of it. That question would wait. And if Blaze was involved—even a little—if he had anything, anything to do with what happened to my twin... I don’t care how many bonds the gods wove between us. I would never forgive him. And if I couldn’t forgive him, I sure as hell wasn’t going to let myself love him. Even if this damn bond pulled me toward him like gravity. Even if his voice in the dark made the nightmares shrink. I didn’t care about fate. I didn’t care about ancient bonds or soul links or whatever supernatural crap made him mine. I would never forgive him. And I’d make him pay. So I stayed quiet. For now. Letting the coffee burn my tongue and numb the scream building in my chest. Because this was far from over. And I wasn’t just some frightened little girl caught in their world anymore. I was a girl who had questions. And I was going to get answers. Even if it broke me. I clenched my jaw and looked at Blaze from the corner of my eye. He was watching Reed now, his face blank but his posture taut, like a predator holding back the urge to pounce. He didn’t notice my gaze. Good. Because the question I was about to ask him—when the time came—would either tear down whatever fragile thread of trust was forming between us... Or snap the last piece of me in half. After draining the last of the coffee, I placed the mug on the counter with a soft clink and stood up without a word. I didn’t care that the two testosterone-fueled immortals were still doing their "who gets to protect the fragile human girl" stare-off on either side of the couch like emotionally constipated gargoyles. I was done. My limbs felt like lead, heavy from everything I’d endured in the past forty-eight hours. Honestly, I wasn’t even sure how I was still upright. The last two days had been hell. No, scratch that—hell would’ve offered me better room service. First, the wolf hunt. Then the vampire freakshow. Followed by the nightmare that made every horror movie I’d ever watched look like a children’s cartoon. And let’s not forget the emotionally constipated supernatural duo currently locked in their pissing contest across my living room. Great entertainment, really. But me? I was done. "I’m going to sleep," I muttered to no one in particular. I didn’t care if they heard me or not. Let them fight over who got to growl louder or who could stand closer to me like it meant something. I didn’t have the energy to babysit a vampire and a wolf with unresolved mating issues. I walked away from the testosterone-filled tension without looking back, stepping into the sanctuary of my room. My apartment might not be much, but at least it was mine. Unlike that godforsaken castle with its velvet-draped horror and fire-starting vampire nobles. I closed the door behind me with a soft click and immediately beelined to the bed. My bed. My sheets. The one place left in this blood-drenched nightmare that felt remotely familiar. I crawled under the covers and burrowed in, pulling the blanket up to my chin like it could shield me from the monsters lurking in both my dreams and reality. I didn’t bother changing clothes. I didn’t brush my hair or plug my phone in. I just flopped into bed face-first, my head sinking into the pillow like it had been years since I’d felt something this comforting. I closed my eyes and pretended. Pretend that I wasn’t in a country infested with fanged monsters and fur-covered beasts. Pretend that I wasn’t part of some cosmic joke where I was mated—mated—to two supernatural males who couldn’t stop glaring at each other long enough to notice I was breaking apart. Pretend that none of this had happened. Pretended I was back home. In my country. In my childhood bedroom, with the soft hum of the ceiling fan above and the faint smell of mom’s rose-scented laundry detergent lingering in the air. The familiar creak of the hallway floorboards as my dad passed by. My brother’s annoying music thumping through the wall. Clark. My chest tightened, but I forced myself to breathe. No monsters. No vampires. No wolves. Just home. Just sleep. Just peace... even if it was pretend. Because if sleep was the only escape I had from this horror-infested reality, then damn it—I was going to let it take me. Gods, I wanted that version of life back so badly. The safe one. The normal one. But I was stuck here. In this cursed land. With the memory of fangs, fire, and blood still embedded in my bones. I squeezed my eyes shut tighter. Let sleep take me. Just for a little while. Let me forget the palace of monsters. Let me forget the feast. Let me forget everything. Even if just for one night. Just when sleep was finally stretching its warm fingers around me, pulling me gently into that blissful darkness—the door creaked open. Of course. Because peace? Sanity? Sleep? Those were clearly luxuries I wasn’t allowed anymore. I didn’t even bother opening my eyes. Maybe if I stayed still, I could pretend I was already asleep. Maybe if I stayed silent long enough, whoever it was would just quietly back away and— I heard footsteps coming in. Of course. Of course it did. Because apparently, privacy is a foreign concept to supernatural dickheads with boundary issues. I didn’t open my eyes. Nope. I was not giving either of those bastards the satisfaction of acknowledging their presence. I stayed still. Calm. Eyes shut. Breathing even. I was asleep. Officially and emotionally unavailable. But the air betrayed them. The second the door opened, the entire room shifted. The tension slithered in like a damn fog—thick, oppressive, and annoyingly charged. A quiet "shhh" floated into the air like I was some sacred baby they’d both agreed not to wake. The audacity. Then, the mattress on my right dipped.