Fangless: The Alpha's Vampire Mate-Chapter 338: The Genius and the Youngest Alpha

"Do you think I’ll let you?" Emperor Kaan snarled, raising his hand.

The dust around him surged like a living force, racing after the trail Riona left behind. But he focused too long—just long enough.

Thorin’s fist connected with his jaw in a brutal arc, snapping Kaan’s head to the side and halting the spell. The emperor staggered a step, the attack jarring him out of his tunnel vision.

"Your opponent is me," Thorin growled. "What’s the matter? You’d rather chase a girl than face me? I thought vampires had manners."

He wasn’t insulting Riona—never that. He knew her strength better than anyone. She could go toe-to-toe with him and win if she wanted.

But he knew exactly what would get under Kaan’s skin. And this—this was a direct hit.

"She rejected you. Move on. I thought even you had more pride than this," Thorin said curtly.

Kaan wiped the blood from his split lip, eyes dark with fury now, not amusement. Thorin’s words had hit somewhere deeper than his jaw.

"Careful, pup," the emperor hissed. "Mock me again, and I’ll show you why kings bow before me."

Thorin stepped forward, and something shifted. Gone was the lazy grin. Gone was the playful swagger. What stood now was the Alpha.

His shoulders squared. His eyes, usually full of mischief, burned with purpose. The ground trembled slightly beneath him—not from magic, but from presence. Every inch of him screamed command.

"I’m not afraid of you," Thorin said simply. "And I don’t bow."

Then he moved.

It was like watching a hurricane slip its leash. In a blink, Thorin closed the distance, slamming his shoulder into Kaan’s chest and driving him backward with brutal force. The emperor blocked with one arm, but the impact still echoed like thunder, shaking the corridor walls.

Kaan retaliated, his hand flicking upward to release a pulse of dust-magic—but Thorin anticipated it. He ducked low, rolled, and came up behind the emperor, slamming an elbow into his spine.

Kaan hissed and turned, fangs unleased, his movements sharp and inhumanly fast. He slashed through the air, forcing Thorin back, then unleashed a wave of dust, tearing through the corridor, disintegrating whatever it touched.

But Thorin didn’t run. He howled.

A fierce, guttural sound that erupted through the castle like a war drum. His body shimmered, bones cracking, muscles stretching—and in the space of a breath, he partially shifted. Not fully wolf, not fully man—something between.

Fangs. Claws. Speed. Power.

He blurred again, a streak of motion that slipped through the edge of the dust wave. His claws raked across Kaan’s ribs, deep enough to make the emperor snarl in pain. But Thorin didn’t let up. He was relentless.

Strike. Dodge. Roar. He fought like someone who wasn’t just strong, but trained. Controlled. Disciplined. There was no wasted movement, no hesitation. Every hit was calculated, every breath measured. He fought like an Alpha who had earned his title with blood and grit, not legacy.

Kaan tried to trap him, using a crumbling column as a conduit for his dust. It exploded outward in a spray of dust, but Thorin was already gone. He appeared behind him again, grabbing Kaan by the neck and slamming him into the wall.

"You thought vampires were above werewolves," he growled in his ear. "Surprise."

Kaan snarled, elbowing him back and skidding to his feet. He was bleeding now, thin lines along his cheek and ribs. His magic shimmered around him like a dying star, pulsing and dangerous.

"You’re faster than you look," he spat.

Thorin rolled his shoulders. "And you’re weaker than you pretend."

They stood across from each other again, both breathing hard now. The air between them was charged with red dust, blood, and tension thick enough to choke.

For the first time, Kaan looked at Thorin not as a nuisance but as a threat.

The air shimmered with heat and magic.

Kaan lunged—fangs bared, claws extended—but Thorin was faster. He ducked beneath the strike, pivoted, and drove his elbow into the emperor’s side hard enough to hear ribs crack. Kaan staggered.

Thorin didn’t hesitate.

He followed through with a vicious uppercut, catching Kaan beneath the jaw and lifting him off his feet. Blood arced through the air. The emperor slammed into the wall, crumbling stone around him. Before he could recover, Thorin was already there, hand glowing faintly with Alpha energy.

"Should’ve stayed in your coffin," Thorin said coldly—and sliced.

With one brutal motion, he severed Kaan’s right hand at the wrist. It hit the ground with a dull, wet thud.

Kaan let out a snarl that turned into a scream. He dropped to one knee, clutching the gushing stump, black blood spilling in hot bursts. His face contorted in rage and disbelief.

And Thorin stood over him. Not gloating, not grinning—grounded. Power hummed off of him, raw and unrelenting.

He stared down at the man who had haunted Riona, threatened their people, and thought power came from birthright alone.

"There’s a difference between you and me, Your Majesty," Thorin said, voice low but thunderous. "You were born into the throne. I fought for it."

Kaan looked up slowly, hatred twisting every inch of his face—but behind his eyes, there was something else. Something ancient. Something waiting.

A whisper crawled into his mind, cold and familiar.

"Shall I help you now?"

Kaan’s lips twitched. He breathed out a laugh—cracked, bloody, and utterly unhinged.

"...Yes."

He didn’t even say her name. He didn’t need to.

The corridor darkened. The air thinned. The light dimmed. The broken walls wept dust as the floor cracked beneath Kaan’s knees. novelbuddy.cσ๓

And then—she arrived.

A black mist poured from the severed stump, writhing like smoke. It wrapped around Kaan’s body, seeping into his mouth, his eyes, his skin. His screams cut off—swallowed by silence—as his body arched, twitching violently. For a split second, it looked like he was breaking from the inside out.

Then stillness.

Kaan’s body slowly stood. His eyes opened—and they were no longer his.

They were pitch-black, starless voids. Thessara’s voice came from his mouth, but it was smoother, silkier, crueler.

"You’re strong," she said, eyeing Thorin with interest. "I should have chosen you instead of him."

Thorin took a step back, instincts flaring. Whatever stood in front of him wasn’t Kaan anymore. "As if I want to be chosen by you."

Whoever—or whatever—possessed Kaan now, Thorin knew for sure: they would have never been friends, not in this world or any other.

Thessara smiled through Kaan’s lips, slow and predatory. "A shame," she said, almost wistfully. "You would have made a magnificent monster."

She moved.