My Vampire Little Sister

Jerome Warclaw.

The well-built man standing about two metres tall. Tethered with muscles that had veins popping out, the man stood valiantly like an immovable mountain. His chiselled face and deep emerald eyes were the envy of all men of nordic descent. Sharp nose, raised cheeks, prominent mouth… If there ever was an ubermensch, Jerome would be the living embodiment of it.

However, the man wasn't just a piece of meat that would make cougars drool… The man also went by many names. The Wolf of the West. The Golden Claw. The Tempest Fang…

Numerous epithets were tagged to his name. But there was one moniker that everyone knew him by.

The Warclaw's Alpha.

Aged forty-two, Jerome first came to prominence in early youth. He was a prodigy in martial arts, wiping the floor with anyone his age who dared to step in the ring with him. By the time he was fifteen, no youngsters in the Warclaw Tribe could contend with his immense talent and physique, let alone the innate bloodline he inherited from his father.

When he was thirty, the man had already completed hundreds of missions, ripping apart thousands of Outer Demons with his own hands. And by the time he was thirty-five, Jerome challenged his father for the throne. It was practically unheard of, a Werewolf who was merely thirty-five aiming for the top dog. Everyone thought it was too soon, and Jerome was far too arrogant.

But once again, the man surpassed everyone's expectations. In a one-sided blowout, Jerome trashed his father in combat, stealing the Alpha position and cementing his legacy as the Warclaw Tribe's number one talent.

The Prime Werewolf got everything he wanted in life. Fame, money, recognition… But the moment he reached the apex of his life, Jerome's focus turned elsewhere. The only vice that he had abstained from in his pursuit of greatness.

Women.

In the beginning, women threw themselves at the illustrious Werewolf, especially those from the Warclaw Tribe. Female Werewolves valued strength and might over superficial things like money and appearance. And since Jerome possessed all of those attributes, the women just lined at his door without him doing anything.

Jerome relished the fact that he was able to bed any woman he pleased. Indulging in his newfound hobby, the man possibly slept with every young female in his tribe, impregnating several of them.

But just as he did before, Jerome got bored. He found that the women he was with were too easy to get. All he needed to do was whistle once, and a dozen girls would be delivered to his doorstep.

And so, the man changed his taste in targets. Graduating from beautiful young chicks, Jerome moved on to women who were 'forbidden' in the tribe. He started with married women and continued up the hierarchy, bedding his Elder's trophy wife. And when that proved too easy, Jerome looked outwards and seduced women from other tribes.

Other races weren't spared as well. The Warclaw's Alpha had flings with multiple humans, usually A or S-Ranked Hunters, as he felt they were only worth the challenge. And once he found those women too easy, Jerome had his eye on the most coveted prize of all…

A virgin Vampire.

And not just any virgin Vampire, but one of high lineage. A Vampire that loathes Werewolves and would never in a million years mate with one. A Vampire that was feisty and powerful, so much so that she could give him a challenge in bed.

So imagine his surprise when Jerome discovered that such a vampire existed. And to top it off, she was a beauty beyond words.

For the wild Werewolf, getting Ysabelle's favour was akin to putting the cherry on top of his prime achievements. She was a prize that Jerome must have; nay, he would do everything in his power to obtain.

"What a coincidence; I didn't expect to meet you here, Ysabelle!"

"Don't give me that bullshit, Warclaw."

"Oh, don't be so cold," As if he were ignorant of Ysabelle's acrimony, Jerome smiled peacefully as he took giant steps in her direction. "Please, just call me Jerome."

"... What are you doing here?"

"Oh? I'm here because I've received the SOS. Didn't you come for that exact same reason? I came to help."

"Help? Is standing behind a tree like a scared puppy called helping?"

"Kekeke, I only arrived after you started your massacre. And since you were doing so well, I didn't have the heart to interrupt you."

Jerome's words had one truth and lie, the lie being the former. Jerome actually arrived five minutes before Ysabelle's heroic entrance, and he disguised his presence immediately. His intentions were to allow Ysabelle to face the Outer Demons and hopefully save her should she come under any danger. After all, no woman could resist the tale of a shining knight coming to save the damsel in distress.

Unfortunately, Ysabelle didn't need any help. She'd wiped the floor with her opponents within minutes and had even accurately pinpointed Jerome's location. In fact, she impressed Jerome so much that he simply stood still and watched Ysabelle's fight with total admiration.

"If you're not going to help, then make yourself scarce. The Blackburn House is far too busy to deal with your shenanigans."

Ysabelle wasn't biting the bait. She coolly moved her eyes away, wholly detached from the blonde Adonis. In her experience, talking to the man would only waste time. Although she was infuriated by his actions, Ysabelle didn't have any evidence. At this juncture, it was best to ignore the man and go on living her own life.

Alas, Jerome wasn't too keen on letting Ysabelle leave so quickly.

"Ysabelle, why the rush?"

Using some swift footwork, the blonde man zoomed past Ysabelle's body and found his way in front of the lass. Making sure that they were locking eyes, Jerome brought his face closer until the point where they could smell each other's breaths. Naturally, Ysabelle flinched and doubled the distance with a step back.

"Warclaw… I'm warning you, don't do that again. Or else…"

"Or else what? You'll hit me? Too bad for you, I'm into that kind of thing."

"... Pervert."

Ysabelle shook her head and once again attempted to side-step the man. She found it a mystery that so many women fell for his trap, even though the man was as smooth as gravel. Alas, that was the allure of an Alpha Werewolf. Even the most intelligent of women would fall prey to a muscular, handsome man.

The black-haired Vampire scoffed in anger, revealing her back as she rushed to reunite with her comrades and escape this dastardly conversation.

"Don't you need our help?"

"Huh?"

Ysabelle turned her head back, catching sight of the blonde man putting on a haughty attitude. Her agate eyes twitched as the Werewolf puffed out his chest and proudly declared:

"There are over a dozen missions, three of which have sent SOS signals. The situation out there has turned dire, and your side has been suffering the most. And while the Warclaw Tribe has sent reinforcements… It would be a shame if something happened to that, right?"

"Are you threatening me?"

It took a moment for Ysabelle to register what had happened. She knew that Jerome was interested in her, and that was one of the reasons why the Warclaw Tribe had provided this many men. All of her family members had the same thought. While they disliked Jerome, they couldn't deny that the Warclaw Tribe's assistance was imperative to weathering this disaster. Therefore, as much as she hated the Alpha's advancements, Ysabelle could only bite the bullet for now.

But this was the first time that Jerome had turned this brazen.

"I'm just saying. It doesn't hurt to get a cup of coffee."

There were thousands of facts that Ysabelle could retort with. For one, the Warclaw Tribe were bound with the duty to fight Outer Demons, especially those that escaped from the Gate that they jointly protected. They also relied on the Blackburn House for much of their trade, finance and even protection. In fact, the Blackburn House was paying a hefty sum for their services this time round.

And finally, the Warclaw Tribe wasn't the only option that the Blackburn House had. There were other Werewolf Tribes, assistance from humans or elves, and if it came to their last resort… The Blackburn House would trouble the Vampire Council to send in ancient monsters such as Matriarch Everwinter.

However, Ysabelle didn't say any of those reasons. She finally had enough of this bastard's bullshit. With the most deadpan glare she had ever given in her life, Ysabelle spat:

"I would rather die by a thousand cuts than spend one more second with you."

"Ouch, that stung." Jerome smiled wildly as if he was used to these kinds of rejections. "But that's what I like about you. You put up some fight. It won't be fun any other way."

Beaming from ear to ear, Jerome attempted to grab Ysabelle by the hand. His intention was to give a gentleman's kiss and, in some twisted way, get Ysabelle to constantly think of him. They do say that there's a fine line between love and hate. If he could always be on Ysabelle's mind, perhaps those feelings would one day blossom into a love that could flourish.

But even before Ysabelle had the chance to push him away, something marvellous occurred.

"Imperium: Push!"

Jerome Warclaw, the man who was said to be the strongest Werewolf in the entire Warclaw Tribe, suddenly found it impossible to control his body. A mysterious force dragged his hands away from Ysabelle, suspending his entire body in mid-air.

Jerome attempted to escape, but the force that was restraining him was far too powerful. It felt Space itself had decided to mess with him, contorting him in one place and restricting all forms of movement. And before the man could even comprehend that Telekinesis had been cast on him, Jerome's body was flung into the sky, like a catapult firing a projectile.

In mere milliseconds, Jerome passed the sound barrier and blasted off like a rocket flying to Mars. Since Werewolves couldn't fly, the only thing that he could do was zoom through the skies helplessly until he landed flat in another country.

But that was not Ysabelle's problem.

Why?

Because of the man who replaced Jerome's spot by landing from god knows where.

Draped over his broad and lanky shoulders was a luxurious cashmere coat that covered all parts of his burgundy three-piece suit. Standing at 1.99 metres tall, the man was easily half a head above Ysabelle. His short black hair was groomed in a glossy fashion, giving his gorgeous blue eyes a chance to shine.

With his back straightened and his posture impeccable, the man exuded a charisma only reserved for the noblest of men. While he wasn't at the level of Jerome, the man was loaded with muscles, so much so that his suit couldn't hide the outline of his domineering frame.

Yet, at the same time… The man's atmosphere was exceedingly gentle.

Compared to Jerome, the man was a tad less handsome. He didn't have the same muscular frame that made all women salivate, and he didn't possess the 'dangerous' look that appealed to most women.

And yet… When Ysabelle saw him for the first time…

Her heart skipped a beat.

No, to be more exact, her soul couldn't help but gravitate towards the newcomer. They had interacted multiple times in the past, and in more recent years, she had observed him through pictures and videos. And so, she was naturally aware of who this man was.

But seeing the real thing was a whole different matter.

At that moment, the warrior Amazonian that took down seventy Outer Demons disappeared. The indomitable woman that rejected Jerome, the Warclaw Tribe's Alpha, vanished. All that remained was a shy little girl who couldn't stop the redness from dyeing her cheeks.

"Ysabelle…"

"Jin…"