Marry to Alpha or Vampire?

Hawthorne, to be precise, wasn’t just Hazel’s fiancé; he was the 16th generation pure-blood vampire. Hazel’s cousin, Hawthorne’s blood, could awaken the vampire genes within Hazel.

Restless and agitated, Hazel seemed completely under the control of the blood within the ruby. Her eyes lingered on the pendant, as if it were a magnet pulling her in. Cyril could see the fierce struggle between her bloodthirsty instincts and her werewolf nature.

Hawthorne noticed it too. The wound on his bleeding wrist had healed, leaving a shallow mark from Hazel’s bite. Satisfied, he licked his wrist, preparing to let the vampire blood fully dominate Hazel’s body and mind, bringing her back to Bran Castle.

“Hazel,” he spoke in that hypnotic tone again, “remember the memories of our clan.”

Hazel bared her teeth, hissing at Hawthorne. However, she didn’t launch a further attack.

Seizing the opportunity, Cyril circled behind Hazel and Hawthorne. Shifting back to human form, he leaped to their side, naked, using a tree to cover his advance. A powerful punch landed on Hawthorne. Though he winced, he didn’t release Hazel. A hint of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, and his sharp eyes intensified.

This wasn’t the time for someone to ruin his plans.

“You’re a despicable mongrel,” Hawthorne growled, “You have plenty of time. Your task is to deprive your partner of the chance for eternal life, tainting her with your dirty blood. But I can tell you this. You can mark, and so can I.”

A roar erupted from Hazel’s fangs, her eyes fixated on Hawthorne’s neck, where the recent bite mark had turned into a blood imprint. Simultaneously, Hawthorne’s fangs slowly sank into the part marked by Hazel.

“You’re just a passerby,” Hawthorne said while savoring Hazel’s sweet blood. His hands completely restrained Hazel’s movements.

“Just a mutt like you is worthy of being my fiancée?” Hawthorne’s heterochromatic eyes glinted with a killing intent, blood streaming from the corners of his mouth, forming a satisfied smile.

Hazel let out a suppressed scream, breaking free from Hawthorne’s embrace and darting out of the woods, feigning another attack from the other side.

Pain occupied Hazel’s heart. It felt as if she had completely severed a vital connection with someone important.

Cyril’s hand also covered the imprint on his neck, feeling the pain. It was a signal, a destined connection being severed. In the world of werewolves, the moon goddess designated mates for them. Once werewolf couples successfully marked each other, their powers increased, influencing each other. However, if they decided to separate or if one betrayed the other, they would feel double the pain.All content is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

Even though Hazel’s betrayal was unintentional, at this moment, she had been imprinted with Hawthorne’s mark.

Cyril’s eyes were filled with murderous intent, his beast-like gaze locked onto Hawthorne.

“You’re about to become a corpse, undead!” He rapidly closed in on Hawthorne, landing a punch on his right side. A deep growl escaped from Hawthorne’s throat as he staggered back, his shoulder twitching as if he wanted to shake off the pain.

But soon, the excitement triggered by Hazel’s blood made Hawthorne’s eyes shimmer even more. He twisted his neck, initiating a counterattack, closing the distance between him and Cyril, forcing Cyril to move upward towards the giant tree. As Cyril’s body neared the trunk, Hawthorne swiftly moved behind him, sinking his fangs into Cyril’s nape and kicking him forcefully.

Cyril collided with the tree trunk, emitting a low, pained groan. He lifted his head to see Hazel hissing from the tree.

Flipping over, Cyril positioned himself to form a triangular distance between him, Hawthorne, and Hazel. Uncertain whether Hazel would attack him in this state, he looked at his former lover, now transformed into a demonic figure, his eyes revealing a sense of heartache.

Hazel’s eyes bulged. Though turned into a bloodthirsty vampire, she showed minimal movement on the tree. At this moment, Cain’s memories filled her mind-uniting the dark world and eradicating werewolves.

In Cain’s memories, he faced God’s punishment, avoiding sunlight as wolves, with keen senses, became executioners hunting him. Wolves, now agents of the light, hunted Cain in packs. Despite Cain’s formidable strength, he cleverly eluded the werewolves multiple times. However, during one encounter, he was surrounded by the wolf pack. The wolves, brutal and fierce, emitted a foul odor, and Cain paid a heavy price before managing to escape.

In Hazel’s consciousness, wolves transformed into unforgivable beasts. She caught a whiff of Cyril’s scent, tilting her neck, hesitating whether to attack him.

“No, you won’t attack me,” Cyril answered Hazel’s unspoken question and took advantage of her momentarily diverted attention to inch closer. “You’re my mate, darling.”

Hazel heard the word “mate” through gritted teeth, attempting to focus solely on Cyril.

“Look closely, Hazel, it’s me,” he whispered, redirecting her tangled thoughts forcefully. “Don’t let those demonic powers control you. Remember yourself, remember us.”

Hazel’s eyes widened abruptly. She frantically scanned from Cyril to Hawthorne, then back to the ongoing battle between the two factions. This cycle repeated many times. “Us? Them? Aren’t they the same?” She roared in a high-pitched, child-like voice. “Impossible!”

“Everything is possible,” Cyril spoke with a velvety voice, inching closer as he continued, “You are you, a girl with both werewolf and vampire blood.”

Hazel vigorously shook her head, trying to dispel his words. She thought about crouching and slipping past him, but as soon as she considered this, Cyril blocked her way. Her face twisted in frustration. Then, she lowered her body, crouching, resembling a lioness, deliberately striding forward with grandeur.

Cyril made a slight move. As they neared each other, the confrontation evolved into a standoff between a lion and a lioness, creating a dizzying spiral of combat. The harsh sounds of cracking and snapping echoed under the giant tree. Every moment someone fell in their respective battles, the impact echoed, but they moved too swiftly to identify who was falling.

Hawthorne’s attention was captivated by the intense fight, his eyes revealing concern for Hazel. He hadn’t expected Cyril to engage in a fight with Hazel.

Hawthorne couldn’t participate in this battle because Hazel’s awakened vampire powers were incredibly potent, rendering her capable of facing the strongest Alpha without assistance.

Hazel swiftly attacked Cyril, tearing off a small piece of flesh from Alpha Cyril. Cyril roared in defense, delivering a powerful punch directly to Hazel’s soft abdomen. Hazel’s body flew ten feet, crashing into the tree trunk above Hawthorne’s head with such force that it seemed to shake the entire giant tree. Hawthorne heard the splattering sound of blood coming from her stomach as she rebounded from the trunk, landing a few feet away from him on the ground. Hawthorne, bending at the waist, caught Hazel.

A low, mournful groan emanated from Hazel’s teeth.