Chapter 32: Not A Fucking Dude

Words : 1025 Updated : Sep 17th, 2025

Chapter 32 of "Claimed by the Alpha and the Vampire Prince: Masquerading as a Man" opens revealing: Chapter 32: Not A Fucking Dude Blaze’s POV: She’s a girl. A freaking girl. This changes everything. After my inexplicable... Keep going!

Chapter 32: Not A Fucking Dude Blaze’s POV: She’s a girl. A freaking girl. This changes everything. After my inexplicable attraction to him—no, her—I convinced myself it was just her scent that was drawing me in. Nothing more. Because there was no way I was into boys. The thought of kissing, touching someone with the same parts as me, with a dick like me—nah, I couldn’t bring myself to do it, no matter what my demons whispered in my ear. So, I settled for just feeding from him—her. After all, she had the finest blood I’d ever tasted. I wasn’t like that mutt. I couldn’t bring myself to fuck someone with a dick. But when I found him—her—in the library, reeked in that fucking dog’s juices, I snapped. I wanted my scent on her, not his. But even then, I still thought she was a guy. And I had no idea how to go about that. Curiosity—or maybe obsession—led me to watching gay porn, trying to figure it out. But the moment I saw a guy pounding into another dude’s ass, I knew I could never do it. A girl? Sure. A guy? No. But after seeing my pretty pet wrecked, smelling like sex, reeking of that mutt, I lost it. I couldn’t shake the image my stupid mind had conjured up—of that damn porn, except this time, the faces had changed to that of the mutt and my pet. My pretty little thing. I dragged her to the showers, wanting to wash that mutt’s scent off—to replace it with mine. Maybe even see if I could bring myself to try what I’d seen in those videos. And then—I found out. She was a girl. All this time. And here I was, googling how dudes fuck because my stupid demons had been pushing me to the edge. I didn’t even know whether to be relieved or furious. Happy that she’s a girl? Or pissed off that she lied—so well—that she had me watching gay porn? I stared at her—really stared at her. My mind, my instincts, my demons—everything clicked into place. She was a girl. A fucking girl. A slow, sharp laugh crawled up my throat. My muscles, tight from restraint, suddenly felt lighter. Relief. I didn’t have to fight it anymore. I didn’t have to force myself to accept something I wasn’t. I didn’t have to shove down the twisted desire that had been festering in my gut because she wasn’t a he—she was a she. And now, I could have her. No more resisting. No more guilt. No more denying the pull that had been driving me insane. "You’re a fucking girl," I muttered, more to myself than to her. She was trembling, her wet clothes clinging to her like a second skin. Her bandages—the ones that had kept her secret, kept me in the dark—were soaked, tightening around her frame. I exhaled slowly, trying to process the reality in front of me. I had been angry—furious—that she had lied, tricked me into thinking she was something she wasn’t. But now? Now it didn’t matter. Now, I could claim her without question. I wouldn’t have to fight my instincts. Wouldn’t have to resist the hunger clawing at my insides. Wouldn’t have to feel like I was crossing some invisible line of no return. Because now, there was nothing stopping me. I watched her shiver, her wide, terrified eyes locked on mine. I could smell it—the fear rolling off her, sweet and sharp. I grinned. This changes everything. I could finally have her. No more fucking guilt. No more resisting the pull. No more trying to justify my obsession. She had a cunt and tits—thank the fucking heavens. She was mine. And I was going to make damn sure she knew it. I’d fuck the mutt out of her. Make her body forget him, make it only know me. But then a thought sliced through my satisfaction like a blade—did he already know? Did that filthy mutt claim what was mine first? Rage twisted in my gut like barbed wire. I had to know. I grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at me, my grip tight, possessive. "Does the stupid mutt also know?" I demanded, my voice low, threatening. She shook her head—no. I narrowed my eyes, studying her, feeling the tension in her trembling frame. If he didn’t know, then— How the fuck did he touch her? My chest tightened. How did he fuck her then? The thought alone made my vision darken. Had he already ruined her before I even got my chance? "How did he fuck you then?" I bit out, my frustration turning sharp, seething. She hesitated—too long. I squeezed her chin harder. "Speak." She swallowed, her voice barely above a whisper. "My... my mouth." Something snapped inside me. That fucking mutt. That fucking mutt put his dick in her mouth—before I even got to taste her lips. Unforgivable. My jaw clenched so hard it ached, my fingers itching to rip something apart. He tainted her. His scent, his touch—it was all over her. I needed to wash him out of her. Out of her skin. Out of her mouth. Out of her fucking mind. I stepped back, inhaling deeply, trying to rein in the violent possessiveness curling through me like wildfire. My demon wanted blood. My instincts screamed to mark her, claim her, make sure no one else touched her again. But first—I needed to fix this. "Wash up," I ordered, my voice tight, controlled. For now. She blinked up at me, hesitant, confused. I leaned in close, my lips grazing her ear, my voice dropping into something low and lethal. "I’ll be back. And don’t even think of running." Before she could react, I was gone. I moved fast, my mind racing, my body buzzing with the need to erase every trace of him from her and the need to make her mine every possible way I could. Seems like I’ve out win the stupid mutt today. A toothbrush. Clothes. Anything to cleanse her of him. Because when I came back—she was going to be mine.

Chapter 32: Not A Fucking Dude

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