CHAPTER 114: SHE HAS A TWIN

Clare pov:

The air grew noticeably colder—chill crawling up my spine, and I knew it was him. Mr. I’m-the-Vampire-Prince-and-the-World-Is-My-Gothic-Symphony. Freaking Blaze. His presence always made the room feel like a crypt in winter.

And just when I was trying to mentally kill him off in a dream, the other side of the bed dipped.

You have got to be kidding me.

I was the sandwich in a supernatural pissing match.

They were both lying down. One on either side. Like territorial animals marking space while I was pretending to be asleep.

Fucking. Great.

The stupid thing? Neither of them said anything. Not a word. Just tension. Tension and heat and cold and two different kinds of brooding energy pressing in from either side.

Do you know what it’s like trying to sleep while two overly powerful immortals have a silent alpha-off over your unconscious body? You don’t. And you don’t want to.

I kept my face relaxed, breathing calm, but internally I was screaming. If there were supernatural court laws about stalking, this would be exhibit A. I should report both of them to the Fantasy HR department for emotional harassment.

My room—my bed—was supposed to be the one place I could pretend to be okay. And now it was a damn contested war zone with Reed radiating hot, protective wolf energy and Blaze oozing cool, calculating vampire dread like a fucking Victorian nightmare.

Perfect.

I wanted to scream.

I wanted to slap both of them with my pillow.

But I didn’t.

I stayed still. Playing dead.

Because if this was the dumbass way they were going to "protect" me—by lying next to me like bodyguards in a coffin—then fine. Let them have their moment.

But the second one of them even snored, I was kicking someone off this bed.

Probably both.

Gods save me from supernatural soulmates and their broken understanding of space.

I seriously contemplated just getting up and sleeping in the bathtub.

But nope. I was stubborn. They were the intruders here. I wasn’t giving them the satisfaction of pushing me out of my own damn bed. Let them play this ridiculous game of who can "protect" me better while I ignored their idiocy like the exhausted, emotionally damaged queen I was.

Fucking great.

Of all the cursed vampire palaces and supernatural boarding houses in the world, I had to end up here—with one blood-sucker who looked like sin incarnate, and a territorial wolf who couldn’t stop growling every time someone breathed wrong around me.

Someone shifted closer. I felt it—barely a hair’s width from my back. Blaze, probably. Smooth and subtle.

Then another shift—on my other side. Reed, no doubt trying to match the move.

The temperature dropped. My annoyance spiked.

Gods help me... if one of them breathes on my neck, I’m kicking someone’s balls into another dimension.

And yet, the bed stayed silent after that. No movement. Just them... lingering like smug shadows on either side. And me? Caught between them, fighting the urge to scream, punch something, or both.

Welcome to my life.

The supernatural mate-bond triangle from hell.

BLAZE POV

"She’s related to Clark," Reed said, voice low, almost a whisper, like the words themselves were dangerous.

We were alone now. Clare had left us behind after draining her mug of coffee, muttering something about needing to sleep and clearly wanting space from both of us. She vanished into her bedroom, leaving a heavy silence behind. That was when the wolf dropped his little bomb.

I blinked slowly, my gaze snapping to him. "How?"

But even as I asked the question, pieces began shifting in my mind—sliding into place like a morbid puzzle I’d refused to complete until now. Her face. Her scent. Her blood.

And gods... it all started to click.

The scent. That damn scent.

It had haunted me from the first moment we crossed paths in that dark hallway. I remembered freezing in my tracks, the moment her presence soaked into the air—familiar, wrong, yet so right. At first, I told myself it was coincidence. A trick of the mind. There were similarities, sure, but not enough to matter.

Or so I’d tried to convince myself.

Yes, her scent was different. Softer, warmer. But there was something about it—something familiar. And now that I thought back—really thought back—to the moment I first saw her in the hallway cloaked in shadows and fear... it hadn’t just been curiosity that pulled me in. It was her scent. Her blood. That pull.

It was his, too.

I clenched my jaw, anger and guilt simmering in the pit of my stomach like poison. I had buried that feeling, dismissed it as coincidence. After all, I never tasted Clark’s blood—not the way I had with Clare. A brief lick. That was all. Barely enough to identify him. But enough to burn a memory into my senses.

And now? Now I couldn’t lie to myself anymore.

"Their blood..." I murmured, more to myself than to him. "It’s similar. Not exact. But... enough."

Reed leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, eyes watching me with more suspicion than usual. "She’s his twin," he said slowly, like he was testing me. "You didn’t know?"

I looked away, tongue pressing against my fang. "I suspected... something. Her scent. Her face. Pull her hair back, narrow her nose, give her a colder expression—she’d look just like him."

I could feel him reading me, sizing up my reaction, trying to see if I was lying. I wasn’t. Not about this.

But gods, this changed everything.

"Does she know what happened to him?" I asked, though I already suspected the answer.

Reed snorted. "If she did, you think she’d let either

of us stay in her apartment?" He shook his head. "Hell no. She’d probably stake us both."

Fair point.

No. She didn’t know.

Because if she did, I’m certain I wouldn’t be standing here breathing. Or whatever my version of breathing was.

A heavy silence fell over the room, sharp and suffocating. The kind that wrapped around your throat and squeezed. We were both thinking the same thing: this truth—who she was—it made everything more dangerous. The prophecy. The power her blood could carry. And worst of all, the very real possibility of history repeating itself.

"She can’t find out," I said at last, voice hard, cold. Not because I wanted to lie to her. But because I needed to protect her. If she found out what really happened to her twin, she’d be hunted. Used. Or worse, she’d run straight into danger trying to dig up answers. And I wasn’t going to lose her too.

"She will find out eventually," Reed said, eyes narrowing. "She’s already suspicious. She’s asking questions. About the mate bond. About you. And soon... about Clark."

Reed gave me a long look. "You think that’s gonna work? You think she won’t dig?" His voice held doubt. "She came here because of him. She’s not gonna stop."

I swallowed hard, a sick twist in my gut. "Then we make sure the past doesn’t repeat itself. We have to make sure that when she does—she survives it," I said, stepping forward. "I won’t lose her. Not like we lost him."

Reed’s eyes darkened but he nodded, though the reluctant tension in his body said he didn’t like agreeing with me. We both had egos bigger than most kingdoms, and right now, we were being forced to put those aside—for her.

"For Clare," I said, meaning every word.

"Fine," Reed muttered, pushing away from the wall. "But if we’re doing this, we do it together."

"I’m staying with her tonight," I said casually, already making my way toward her bedroom. My voice calm, but my intent clear. "Keep watch over her."

"As if I’d let you just sneak in and play the gallant protector," Reed snapped, following behind me like a damn shadow.

I reached the door first, glancing inside. She was curled up under the blankets, hair messy, breathing slow. The tension in her jaw said she wasn’t fully at ease—but she was sleeping. Finally.

I raised a finger to my lips and turned toward Reed. "Shhh," I whispered. "Don’t wake her."

He glared at me, teeth clenched, but stayed quiet.

Because whatever tension burned between us—whatever hatred or competition—Clare was in the middle of it now.

And for her sake, we’d both pretend—for now—that we could be civilized monsters.

He grumbled something behind me, probably plotting my death in twelve different ways, but stayed quiet.

I stepped in first.

The air in the room shifted again. Her scent wrapped around me like a damn vice, reminding me of everything I couldn’t lose. Everything I had to protect. Not just from the outside world, but from the secrets buried in the past... and maybe even from myself.

She didn’t stir.

She didn’t know what we were keeping from her. Or how much blood had already stained the road she was walking.

But gods help me—I was going to make sure she never had to find out.

Not if I could help it.

Not again.