Chapter 116: Tangled Mess

Chapter 116: Tangled Mess {I am really sorry for the inconvenience the system had publish my drafts from another book. Currently working on releasing the original Chapters. This problem was on this Chapter and the next currently working on rectifying the next Chapter) CLARE POV I must’ve been dead asleep—like five-minute power-nap at a rave kind of dead— Until a sudden crunch forced me awake. My eyes shot open into darkness. I felt... stuck. Like a human accordion compressed between a Viking and a vampire straight out of a bloody romance novel. First, there was heat to my right—warmth wrapped around my side like a hot water bottle. Then there was cold to my left... an icy presence perched like a statue on the edge of my bed. Sleep fogged my brain. What... where..? For a split second, I thought I was dreaming the worst crossover ever: Twilight meets Delivery Man, with fang-y males fighting over grudgingly rescued humans. Dream or nightmare—it felt something like that. I groaned internally. Of course. I didn’t need an alarm clock. I had two supernatural assholes guarding me like chaperones from hell. No, it was the absurd temperature war happening across my entire body. My front? Felt like I was lying on top of a goddamn oven. My back? Like someone left the fridge open and shoved me in it. It took me a second—maybe two, give or take the dazed confusion of waking up—to realize why. I was sprawled right across Reed’s chest, my head tucked into the crook of his neck, his arm loosely around my waist like I was a massive, overgrown teddy bear. Which would’ve been fine if that were the only problem. But nope. There was more. Someone was behind me. Pressed right up against my back. Spoon-mode activated. His arm draped around my torso, fitting like he owned that space. And even without seeing his face, I knew who it was. Blaze. Of course. Fucking great. I was sandwiched. Freaking. Sandwiched. Between a wolf furnace and a vampire freezer. Sandwiched between a growly werewolf and a smug vampire. I must have offended every celestial deity in existence in a past life. That’s the only explanation for my cursed existence. I didn’t move at first—because I couldn’t. Because I was stuck. Not in some metaphorical "oh I’m trapped between two men emotionally" kind of way. No. Literally physically trapped. Pinned down by two overly territorial supernatural creatures who apparently decided my bed was the battlefield for round two of their ongoing dick-measuring contest. I tried to shift slightly—bad idea. Both of them tightened their hold, like human pressure sensors or something. Reed’s arm pulled me closer to his chest, and Blaze’s fingers curled slightly on my stomach like he was anchoring me down. Oh, and as if the situation wasn’t dire enough? I had to pee. Badly. I glanced at the window. Still dark outside. Probably pre-dawn. Maybe 3 or 4 AM? The faint glow of the streetlamp outside bled through the curtain, casting long shadows across the walls of my apartment. So it had to be really early. And here I was—pinned like a helpless piece of meat between two supernatural beings who, by all rights, shouldn’t even be able to stand each other, let alone share a bed with me in the middle. What kind of twisted fantasy novel was I living in? My bladder throbbed again. Okay. Okay. Time to strategize. Gods. How the actual fuck was I supposed to get out of this mess without waking them up? These two didn’t just sleep—they brooded in their sleep. I could practically feel the possessive tension radiating off them even in unconsciousness. I tried inching my leg just slightly— Nope. Reed’s arm, draped over my hip, tightened as if his subconscious sensed I was trying to flee. Blaze’s cool fingers also flexed against my stomach, holding me even closer, like I was some precious little human plushie neither of them was willing to give up. I was a hostage to their possessiveness. I tilted my head slightly, peeking up at Reed’s face. He looked... peaceful. Or as peaceful as a wolf on high alert could look while pretending to sleep. His breathing was steady. His jaw relaxed. Lips slightly parted. I turned slightly—not too much—just enough to see Blaze’s silhouette behind me. And yeah, he was out cold too. Probably dreaming about draining the blood of every man who ever looked my way. His hold on my waist was firm, not crushing, but definitely full of that overprotective vampire possessiveness I was getting very familiar with. I sighed internally. My bladder didn’t care that I was caught in the middle of a supernatural cuddle-pile. And I definitely wasn’t ready to be the reason the Werewolf-Vampire Peace Treaty broke at four in the morning just because I tried to wriggle my way to the bathroom. But desperate times... Maybe if I just... slithered out? Silently. Like a snake. A very tired, very sleep-deprived snake who needed to pee. The only logical way out of my supernatural snuggle prison was down. Sliding downward toward the end of the bed, like some kind of desperate, overcaffeinated caterpillar. That was the plan. My bladder encouraged me like a cheerleader in distress. Not graceful. Not elegant. But desperate times call for dignity-suiciding measures. I took a deep breath, braced myself, and began the escape: slow, inching movements, wriggling my way down between Reed’s death-grip warmth and Blaze’s icy hold of doom. Progress was... okay. At one point, I was pretty sure I looked like a possessed worm having a seizure, but whatever. A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do when her bladder’s about to explode and she’s got two territorial idiots clinging to her like heated pillows with abandonment issues. Just when I thought I was in the clear— BAM. My foot caught on the damn bedsheet, my knee twisted the wrong way, and gravity decided to betray me in the most humiliating fashion possible. I fell. Face-first. Straight off the bed. The ground met me like an overenthusiastic wrestling partner. My elbow hit the floor. My pride shattered into ten thousand pieces. And of course— Of course. The commotion ripped both vampire and wolf straight out of their dreamlands. They sat up immediately, disoriented and on full alert... still tangled in each other’s arms. I blinked up from the floor, groaning and cradling my hip. Reed blinked once, twice—then realized he was full-on snuggling Blaze like they were two hormonal teens at a sleepover. "What the fuck, man!" Reed barked, wide-eyed, and immediately shoved Blaze off like he’d just been kissed by a leper. Blaze looked equally stunned, as if trying to process how the hell he ended up spooning a werewolf. They were both panting, flustered, and looking anywhere but at each other. Still lying on the floor, tangled in sheets and clinging to the last of my dignity, I said the only thing I could: "...You two wanna be alone or...?" They both glared at me. The two of them sat there in silence for a second, just staring at each other in dawning horror. I couldn’t help it. Despite the pain, the fall, the embarrassment, and my full bladder— I snorted. Then I laughed. Not a polite giggle. No. A full-blown, slightly hysterical, sleep-deprived, maniacal laugh. Because gods, what even was my life? Two bloodthirsty supernatural beings glaring at each other like they’d just committed the ultimate betrayal... by accidentally cuddling. Reed turned to me, face still red from shock. "Why the hell were you crawling off the bed like a—" "Shut up," I groaned, still laughing. "Just... shut up. I had to pee. That’s all. And now I’ve probably dislocated my shoulder, but at least I’m not sandwiched between two passive-aggressively spooning egos anymore." I got up, rubbing my butt, and limped off toward the bathroom. Behind me, I heard Blaze mutter under his breath, "I blame your radiating furnace body heat, mutt." And Reed snapped back, "Better than being an undead popsicle." Honestly? I was too tired for their bickering. I shut the door, sat on the toilet, and sighed. Gods help me. This wasn’t just a horror movie anymore. This was a supernatural sitcom. And I was the unwilling main character. *********** I’m currently hiding in the bathroom. Yes, hiding. Because that ridiculous scene just now? The one where I fell off my own bed while trying to escape two supernatural man-beasts using me as a snuggle toy? Yeah. That happened. And no, I’m not emotionally okay about it. I’m sitting on the closed toilet lid, arms around my knees, trying to decide if I’m actually expected to go back to bed and pretend everything is fine. Like it’s completely normal to sleep between two guys who just casually announced they’re my mates. Which, from what I’ve gathered, translates to "the love of their lives" in monster-speak. No pressure, right? I don’t even know what I’m supposed to feel. Am I supposed to be flattered? Horrified? Swept away into a whirlwind romance? Because honestly, I just feel... tired. Confused. My emotional range has officially been short-circuited by wolf howls, vampire feasts. Because here’s the thing: Am I still expected to walk out of here, smile like nothing happened, and climb back into that bed? Right between them? Seriously? Like I’m just gonna crawl between a brooding vampire and a cocky wolf and pretend that everything’s cool? That I’m cool? That I don’t know they both claim I’m their "mate"—which, from everything I’ve managed to piece together, is supernatural-speak for the love of their lives. Their fated soulmate. Chosen by whatever weird-ass destiny moon-god-blood-luna-soul-tie nonsense their species worships. And I’m supposed to be okay with that? Like, sorry your magical biology decided I’m your eternal obsession, but I’m still out here trying to mentally process the fact that vampires exist—and not the sexy, sparkly kind, but the ones who literally feast on humans at dinner parties. And yeah, I know what people would say. "Lucky girl! Hot vampire and hotter wolf fighting over you!" No. Shut up. This isn’t a fanfic fantasy. This is a bloody mess. Sure, I’d have to be a corpse not to notice their bodies. Let’s be honest—anyone with eyeballs, taste, or a pulse would drool. Hell, I’m pretty sure even lesbians would glance at their pictures and go, "Okay, maybe just once." But that’s just attraction. That’s primal. That’s... biology doing its freaky thing. Emotionally? Mentally? I’m not there. I’m not even close. This horror show of a life has ripped through my peace, my plans, and my grip on reality. I’ve watched people die. I’ve had dreams that felt too real. I’ve seen my twin shredded in a nightmare, and it still sits heavy on my chest like a curse I can’t shake. So no. I’m not ready to love anyone. I’m not ready to choose. And I don’t think I should be forced to just because their instincts say I’m it. Honestly? Right now, I just want to be safe. To survive. To find the truth about what happened to my brother. And maybe—just maybe—go one full day without waking up in a bed sandwiched between two apex predators arguing over who gets to "protect" me. Gods help me. I don’t need a mate. I need a damn therapist.