Crimson Desires: The Alpha's Forbidden Blood

Seraphine’s POV

I flip my cascading raven locks over my shoulder, the sunlight catching on my crimson-painted nails, their sheen resembling polished rubies. A slow, knowing smile tugs at my lips as I hold my head high, exuding unshakable confidence. Each deliberate step in my killer heels sends a commanding rhythm echoing off the concrete.

Today marks my 200th year of existence. Born to a mortal mother and a vampire father, I am a living contradiction, an outsider. Among vampires, I am an abomination. Among humans, I am a threat. But that has never stopped me. A few daring souls test their luck, exchanging whispers and stolen glances in my presence. I let them look. Let them wonder. Let them want.

On this auspicious day, I make a decision. I want to experience the mundane trivialities of human life—the life my mother once knew. And so, I choose to attend the very school she once walked through, during her fleeting time on this earth.

The school looms ahead, its grandeur softened by nature’s embrace. Towering trees frame the entrance, their shadows stretching lazily across the pavement. The brick walls are tangled with ivy, the vibrant green vines weaving intricate patterns, as though the very essence of nature and knowledge have entwined into one. The air is thick with the scent of damp earth, ink, and paper—a mixture of the old and the new.

Inside, the hallways are alive with movement, the low hum of laughter and conversation filling the space. Students lean against lockers, their chatter blending into an intoxicating melody of mortal existence. In the courtyard, beneath the outstretched branches of ancient trees, groups of them gather, seeking solace from the sun. Here, friendships form, rivalries ignite, and secrets whisper through the breeze.

I expected a human school. What I find instead is a delicate balance of power—a mix of werewolves, humans, and a few vampires who dare to walk these halls. The realization is thrilling.

With my school bag slung over one shoulder, the uniform clinging perfectly to my form, I move through the throng with effortless grace. The weight of curious gazes presses against me, a silent declaration of my presence. I welcome it.

My hips sway with an unspoken promise, every step deliberate, every motion a silent command. Catcalls echo behind me, a chorus of lust and admiration. The football players stationed near their lockers drink in the sight of me, their eyes trailing with a hunger I recognize all too well. I slow my pace, turning just enough to catch their gaze, offering them a smirk—just enough to let them know I see them. That I own the moment.

A teasing glance. A playful arch of my brow. And then I’m gone, leaving them in my wake, breathless and wanting.

The scent of blood brushes against my senses, warm and fresh, tantalizing. My father always told me—true power lies in indulgence, in taking what we are owed. Blood bags could never compare. Not to the real thing.

The administrator’s office is dimly lit, the heavy scent of paper and ink doing little to mask the intoxicating aroma lingering in the air. But it’s not the paperwork that holds my attention.

It’s him.

Mr. Felix, the man behind the desk, his gaze dragging over me in a way that borders on obscene. He lingers too long on my legs, his thoughts a shade too dark for a man of authority addressing a student.

Pathetic.

I lean against the counter, my fingers tracing the edge as I let my smile widen. He shifts, throat bobbing with a nervous gulp as he struggles to form words.

“Good day, Mr. Felix,” I purr, my voice dipped in honey, slow and deliberate. A flick of my lashes. A subtle tilt of my head. He’s already caught, already drowning in the weight of my attention.

He inches closer, his brown eyes glassy, unfocused, entirely under my spell. I could make him do anything—sign away the school, hand me every last drop of his blood. A mere whisper, and he’d beg for me to take him.

Tempting.

I let my eyes darken, the crimson hue bleeding into my irises. “Tell me,” I murmur, my voice a breath against his skin. “Shouldn’t I be allowed a taste, given the way you’ve looked at me?”

His pupils dilate, his breath coming in shallow gasps. And then, as if compelled by a force beyond his control, he tilts his head, exposing his throat—a willing sacrifice.

My fangs elongate, sharp and aching for the kill.

But then—the door behind him creaks open.

A scent floods the room, slamming into me with the force of a storm.

My breath hitches.

It’s unlike anything I’ve ever encountered—rich, dark,intoxicatinglysweet. It coils around me, burrowing deep into my senses, setting fire to something primal within me.

I forget Mr. Felix.

I forget everything.

I move before I can think, my instincts propelling me toward the door, toward the source of the scent that sings to every fiber of my being. I inhale deeply, drowning in the heady aroma, my pulse quickening with a thrill I don’t yet understand.

And then, my gaze locks onto him.

Stillness. Absolute. Deafening.

He stands there,unmoving, his presence swallowing the room whole. His eyes—a shade too sharp, too knowing—bore into me with a force that pins me in place. Power radiates from him in waves, raw and undeniable.

My lips part, my body betraying me, drawn forward by something far beyond mere hunger.

I know what he is.

Not just a werewolf.

An Alpha.

The strongest among them.

And the owner of the blood that now consumes me.

For the first time in two centuries, I feel something utterly foreign.

Hunger.

But not just for blood.

For him.

Seraphine’s POV

Was he a student here? The thought echoed in my mind as I shamelessly stared, my senses sharpening at the intoxicating scent of his blood. Sweet. Irresistible. My fingers twitched at my sides. Was he younger than me? Older? A visitor? Or did he own this school? A thousand questions fought for dominance in my mind.

A throat cleared, snapping me back to reality. I turned my attention to the older man standing before me. The headmaster, I presumed. Or was he another guest, here to visit the true principal of this prestigious institution? My curiosity burned, desperate for answers.

“You must be the new students,” the old man said, his voice gentle yet commanding. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

I tilted my head slightly, offering him a smile. “Yes.”

He nodded. “What is it?”

His gaze flickered between me and the enigmatic stranger beside him, an odd tension hanging in the air. I took a slow breath, choosing my words carefully.