Claimed by My Vampire Stepbrother

Chase’s P.O.V

They say old houses talk if you listen closely enough.

I used to think that was just something people said in horror movies to make you sleep with the lights on. But standing in the shadowy hallway of Devil’s Lake High, I was starting to believe it.

The school was ancient, built before things like heating or properly-sized windows existed. Its walls creaked when the wind blew, lockers clanged shut by themselves, and the stairwells always smelled like damp stone and secrets. If my new house gave me the creeps, then this place practically screamed at me to run.

But I’d already tried to run—mentally, emotionally, even physically once, when I begged Mom not to go through with the move. She didn’t listen.

She was happy now, after all. In love. Glowing, even. Like her new husband had drained all her anxiety and filled her with champagne and roses. I didn’t get it. I didn’t understand how a man like Landon Marshall—stoic, unreadable, cold—could make someone like my mother smile so easily.

I was still trying to wrap my head around how I ended up with a new last name, a new town, and a new stepbrother who looked at me like I was a bug he couldn’t be bothered to squash.

Alexander Marshall.

Tall. Dark. Ice-blue eyes that could cut glass and a jawline like it was carved with precision. He was the type of guy who didn’t just walk into a room—he owned it. People either looked up to him or moved out of his way. No one talked back to Alexander. No one touched him. He had that quiet, dangerous energy that made you forget how to breathe.

And he hated me.

I didn’t know why. I hadn’t even said ten words to him since I moved in. But from day one, the tension between us had been like stretched wire—ready to snap at any second. He barely acknowledged me at home, never looked at me twice at school, and made it painfully clear that I was an outsider in his world.

Still, even if he didn’t like me, I’d hoped he wouldn’t let me get beat to a pulp in front of him.

Stupid, right?

—

It started when I opened my mouth.

Big mistake.

There was this kid—chubby, round glasses, tucked-in shirt like he was attending a science fair instead of high school. The kind of guy you just knew got picked last for everything. A group of guys had cornered him at the lockers, laughing at him, mocking the way he breathed, even.

And I just… couldn’t shut up.

“Hey,” I had said, stupidly brave. “Why don’t you try picking on someone who’ll actually fight back?”

They turned on me like a pack of wolves.

Now, here I was, crumpled on the tile floor of a third-floor corridor, ribs throbbing, jaw aching, my dignity bleeding out somewhere behind the janitor’s cart.

“Man, this guy’s got guts,” one of them jeered, wiping sweat off his brow after landing another punch. “Too bad he’s got nothing to back it up.”

“What’s wrong, new kid? Not so tough now, huh?” Brad taunted me. He’s the leader of this pack that’s got me cornered and surrounded.

“I think he needs another lesson on how things work here,” Tyler said, laughing. He’s Brad’s sidekick, cracking his knuckles like he’s in some movie, loving every second of this.

I tried to sit up. A mistake. A boot met my stomach and knocked the air out of me.

The hallway spun. My vision blurred. I could taste blood in my mouth now—coppery and warm, slick against my teeth. My breath came out in ragged gasps. My ears rang.

And through that ringing, I heard the sound that made my stomach sink even deeper.

Footsteps. Steady. Casual.

I didn’t need to look. I already knew.

Alexander.

I turned my head—slowly, painfully—and there he was, walking past the fight like he was stepping around a puddle on the sidewalk.

Our eyes met.

His gaze lingered. For a second, I swore I saw something flicker there. Not concern. No, nothing so human. It was more like... recognition. Hunger, maybe. A strange tension passed between us, like a current in the air.

Then he blinked, broke eye contact, and kept walking.

No words. No hesitation.

He just left.

And something in me snapped.

I wanted to scream. Not just from pain, but from betrayal. From knowing that even my stepbrother—who could’ve stopped this with a look—chose to do nothing.

The next punch was a blur, but I didn’t feel it. I was too numb by then. My thoughts were spinning somewhere else, lost in the growing darkness behind my eyes.

Then came the slam.

A door burst open down the hallway with a crash loud enough to freeze everyone mid-swing.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”

A voice—female. Sharp, commanding, pissed off enough to wake the dead.

A red-haired girl stormed into the room like she’d walked off a battlefield, green eyes blazing with fury.

The jocks hesitated. “Lucia?”

“Yeah, that’s right,” she snapped. “And unless you want detention until graduation, I’d start running.”

“Back off, Lucia,” Brad growls. “This isn’t your problem.”

Lucia steps closer, and even though she’s tiny, she’s got this vibe like she’s in charge of everything, so brave and daring.

“Three guys ganging up on the new kid? Really brave,” she fires back. “I already told Coach Peterson. He’s coming with Principal Williams.”

Brad’s smirk fades instantly. “You’re lying.”

“Test me,” Lucia says, crossing her arms. “See how safe your basketball spot is when they find out you’re bullying newbies in the school compound.”

There was a pause. Then chaos.

The guys scrambled, swearing, tripping over each other to escape before their precious reputations got ruined. One kicked over a chair on his way out. Another slammed his knee into a desk. I would’ve laughed if I didn’t feel like my ribs had shattered.

Lucia turned to us, the fire in her gaze softening.

“Keith?” she said, rushing over to the kid still huddled by the lockers. “You okay?”

He nodded shakily. “Y-Yeah. Thanks, Lucia…”

She crouched beside me next. “And you. What’s your name, football hero?”

I blinked up at her, dazed. “Chase.”

“Can you stand?”

“Define ‘can,’” I mumbled.

“Smartass. Here.” She hooked her arm around mine and hoisted me up with surprising strength for someone barely five feet tall. “We need to move. Now.”

“Wait—what about the teachers?”

“There are no teachers,” she smirked. “I was bluffing.”

I coughed a laugh. “You’re insane.”

“Thank you. Now run.”

She led us through the hall like a general leading her troops, Keith hobbling behind, clutching his bag. We slipped through an empty stairwell and ducked into a janitor’s closet while she peeked through the cracked door.

“Okay,” she said finally, brushing her hands together. “I think we’re good.”

Only then did she turn back to me and really look at me. Her smile faded a little as she took in the dried blood on my lip and the bruises forming under my eye.

“You really pissed them off, huh?”

I shrugged, wincing. “Guess I don’t know when to shut up.”

She offered her hand again. “Lucia Randall. Official chaos-maker of Devil’s Lake High.”

I shook it. “Chase Tanning. Official new kid punching bag.”

“Ah, poor baby,” she teased, then tilted her head curiously. “Wait… Tanning?”

I nodded.

“You just move here?”

“Last week. My mom remarried, so we came to live with her new husband.”

Lucia’s eyes narrowed. “What’s his name?”

“…Landon Marshall.”

Her expression shifted immediately. Her whole body seemed to tense, like a predator catching the scent of something unexpected.

“You’re with the Marshall family?”

“Yeah?” I answered, slow and unsure. “My stepbrother’s Alexander—”

Her eyes went wide.

“Oh hell,” she whispered.