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Now I stood at my bedroom window, watching two cars pull up the driveway to the mansion. Drew’s weekend guests had arrived, and I wasn’t sure if I was relieved for the distraction or terrified at the prospect of more werewolves under one roof. Probably both.

The first car—Drew’s practical SUV—parked, and three figures emerged: Drew and two guys who had to be Jake and Tyler Richardson. They looked exactly like what I’d expect from werewolves—tall, athletic, and moving with that predatory grace that seemed to be standard issue for their kind.

The second car was a surprise—a vintage Beetle in powder blue that seemed completely at odds with everything I’d heard about the Blackwood family. Two young women stepped out, both impossibly beautiful in that effortless supernatural way that made me want to check if I had paint in my hair. Which I probably did.

I sighed and headed downstairs. Maybe having guests would keep the brothers busy enough that I could continue my Olympic-level avoidance for a few more days. A fox could dream.

“Finn!” Drew called as I reached the bottom of the stairs. “Perfect timing. Come meet everyone.”

Five pairs of eyes turned to me, and I resisted the urge to check if my fox ears had made an unexpected appearance. The Richardson wolves gave me polite nods, their expressions carefully neutral. The Blackwood cousins had no such restraint.

“Oh my God, he’s even prettier in person,” the taller one exclaimed, approaching me with a smile that was equal parts friendly and predatory. “Drew, you didn’t exaggerate for once.”

“I’m standing right here,” I pointed out, feeling heat rise to my cheeks. “And I’m not pretty.”

“Debatable.” She grinned, offering her hand. “I’m Sophia Blackwood. That’s my cousin Mia. Drew’s told us all about you.”

I shot Drew a betrayed look. “Has he now?”

“All good things,” Drew assured me with a grin that did nothing to ease my suspicion.

“He said you’re an amazing artist,” Mia said, her voice softer than her cousin’s. “And that you’re the only one who can get away with sassing Cade.”

“That’s because Cade still thinks I’m twelve,” I muttered.And not his mate.

The Richardson wolves—Jake and Tyler—approached with more caution, as if unsure of their welcome. Or maybe they were just unsure of me. I couldn’t blame them; I was pretty unsure of myself these days too.

“Nice to meet you,” one said. “I’m Jake. This is Tyler.”

“We’ve heard a lot about the Sinclair brothers,” Tyler added, glancing around the foyer as if expecting said brothers to materialize at any moment. “Their reputation precedes them.”

“Don’t believe everything you hear,” I said automatically, then realized I had no idea what their reputation actually was. I’d been so isolated from supernatural politics that I probably knew less about my own family than these strangers did.

Elena appeared from the kitchen, bearing a tray of snacks that would have put most caterers to shame.

“Elena, you’re a goddess among mortals,” Drew declared, eyeing the spread.

“Flattery will not get you extra cookies, niño,” she replied, but I could see the pleased smile she tried to hide. “Your brothers are looking for you,” she added to me.

“They’re always looking for me.” I sighed. “Usually when I’m trying to avoid them.”

“I heard that,” she said, setting down the tray. “And they can probably hear you too.”

I winced. Enhanced werewolf hearing was the bane of my existence.

“Let me show everyone to their rooms,” Drew suggested. “Then maybe we can all hang out at the beach?”

“I’ll catch up later,” I said, already backing toward the stairs. “I have some… art stuff to finish.”

“Art stuff?” Sophia raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

“Very important art stuff,” I nodded. “Life-changing. Revolutionary. You understand.”

“Not remotely.” She grinned. “But I respect your dedication to avoiding whatever—or whoever—you’re avoiding.”

The studio had become my sanctuary over the past month. The brothers rarely ventured here after what I’d come to think of as The Incident—the almost-kiss with Cade that had sent my world spiraling into chaos. The memory of his face so close to mine, the heat of his body, the way his eyes had darkened… I shook my head, trying to dislodge the image before my fox features could make an unwelcome appearance.

I set up a fresh canvas, determined to lose myself in art rather than dwell on my complicated feelings for three men who had been my brothers for most of my life. The brush moved almost without conscious direction, colors blending and flowing as my mind wandered.