Page 10 of Bound by Alphas 1: Bound (The Blood Moon Chronicle #3)

“Not before breakfast,” Elena intervened, placing a plate in front of me that could have fed a small army. Fluffy scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, golden hash browns, fresh fruit, and what appeared to be homemade cinnamon rolls dripping with icing. “You need to eat, nino (boy). You’re too skinny.”

She’d been saying that since I arrived at age eight, and no amount of food had ever changed her assessment. The fact that I was sitting there with fox ears and a tail didn’t seem to faze her in the slightest—but then, she’d been with the Sinclair Pack for decades. She’d seen weirder.

Logan entered the kitchen just as I was contemplating how to eat without drawing attention to myself.

Unlike his brothers, who looked freshly showered and ready for a magazine photoshoot, Logan had clearly been up for hours.

His dark-blond hair was damp with sweat, his gray t-shirt clinging to his muscular frame in a way that made my mouth go dry.

The moment he entered, his scent hit me like a physical force—ocean air and that distinctive alpha musk that seemed to be my own personal form of torture. My fox ears swiveled toward him without my permission, and I felt my body temperature rise several degrees.

He stopped short when he saw me, his sea-green eyes fixing on my ears, then my tail, which betrayed me by twitching nervously.

“Partial shift?” he asked, his voice gruff as he moved to the coffee machine.

“No, I’m trying out a new fashion statement,” I snapped, stabbing a piece of bacon with unnecessary force. “What do you think?”

Instead of rising to the bait, Logan just poured himself coffee, then came to stand behind my chair. His large hand settled on the back of my neck, warm and heavy and sending shivers down my spine.

“It suits you,” he said simply, his thumb brushing against the soft fur at the base of my ear.

I nearly choked on my bacon. The casual touch sent a wave of heat straight to my core, and I had to grip my fork tighter to keep from leaning back into his hand like a cat begging to be petted.

What was happening? First Cade with the carrying and the ear scratches, now Logan with the…

whatever this was? After last night’s display with their female companions, I’d expected them to maintain careful distance, not… this.

My pets, sensing my distress, crowded around my chair. Mochi jumped into my lap. Pixel wove between the chair legs, occasionally batting at my tail when it twitched. And Boba simply flopped at my feet with a dramatic sigh.

“They’re curious,” Keir explained unnecessarily, sliding into the chair beside me with a plate that rivaled mine in size. He sat close enough that our arms brushed, sending another jolt of awareness through me. “You smell different when you’re shifted.”

“Great,” I muttered, tossing a piece of bacon to Boba, who caught it with surprising dexterity for a dog shaped like a potato. “Even the pets know I’m a freak.”

“You’re not a freak,” all four of them said in unison, which was more disturbing than reassuring.

“Whatever,” I mumbled, focusing on my food to avoid meeting anyone’s eyes.

The cinnamon roll was genuinely spectacular—soft, buttery layers wrapped around cinnamon and brown sugar, topped with cream cheese frosting that melted on my tongue.

Despite my emotional turmoil, I couldn’t help the small moan of appreciation that escaped me.

The kitchen went suddenly, suspiciously quiet. I looked up to find all three brothers staring at me with identical expressions of intense focus, their scents shifting to something sharper, headier that made my fox ears twitch and my insides clench with want.

“What?” I asked, licking frosting from my lips self-consciously. “Do I have something on my face?”

Drew snorted into his orange juice. “Yeah, that’s definitely the problem,” he muttered, earning dark looks from the brothers.

“Nothing,” Cade said smoothly, recovering first. “Just glad to see you enjoying your breakfast.”

But his scent told a different story—one that my fox parts understood even if my human brain refused to acknowledge it. Desire. Hunger. Need. All three brothers were broadcasting it, and my body was responding in ways I couldn’t control, my own scent probably betraying me completely.

An awkward silence fell over the table, broken only by the sounds of cutlery and the occasional whine from Boba, who remained convinced I might share more bacon if he stared pathetically enough.

“So,” Drew finally said, clearly taking pity on me, “what’s on the agenda today? Besides Finn’s impromptu cosplay session?”

I kicked him under the table, but he just grinned.

“Actually,” Cade said, his tone shifting to what I privately called his ‘alpha voice,’ “we need to talk. All of us.”

My stomach dropped. This was it—the conversation I’d been dreading since yesterday’s ceremony.

The one where they explained how we’d deal with this inconvenient mate bond without disrupting pack dynamics.

Where they’d assure me nothing had to change, that we could go on as before, pretending the universe hadn’t played this cruel joke on us.

“About what?” I asked, trying to sound casual even as my tail wrapped tighter around my waist.

“About last night,” Logan said bluntly. “About the ceremony. About everything.”

“Can’t wait,” I muttered, pushing my plate away as my appetite vanished. “Should be a fun chat. ‘Sorry fate stuck you with your little brother as a mate, how awkward for everyone involved.’”

The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees. When I looked up, all three brothers were staring at me with expressions I couldn’t quite read—something between shock and… anger? Their scents had shifted again, turning sharp and acrid with an emotion I couldn’t identify.

“Is that what you think?” Keir asked. “That we’re ‘stuck with you’?”

I shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant even as my heart raced. “What else would I think? You all looked like someone had announced a terminal diagnosis when Elder Miriam revealed the bond.”

“That’s not—” Cade began, but I cut him off.

“It’s fine,” I said, pushing back from the table. My ears were flat against my head now, my tail tucked between my legs again. “Really. I get it. No one wants their adopted brother as a fated mate. Especially not one who can’t even control his own shifting. It’s cosmically unfair to all of us.”

I stood up, needing to escape before I embarrassed myself further. “Thanks for breakfast, Elena. I’m going to go… try to fix this.” I gestured vaguely at my ears and tail.

“Finn, wait,” Logan called, but I was already heading for the door, my pets reluctantly abandoning their food prospects to follow me.

“Let him go,” I heard Cade say quietly. “We’ll talk when he’s calmer.”

As if that would ever happen. As if there was any conversation that could make this situation less painful, less humiliating, less hopeless.

I made it halfway up the stairs before the tears started falling, hot and unwelcome, down my cheeks. Behind me, I heard the patter of paws—all three pets following, loyal despite my obvious disaster status.

When I reached my room and collapsed on the bed, they joined me—Mochi curling against my neck, Pixel settling on my chest, and Boba flopping dramatically across my legs, whining softly.

“Go away, guys,” I mumbled into my pillow, even as I reached out to scratch Boba’s ears. “I want to be miserable in peace.”

They ignored me completely, as pets do. Mochi began grooming my fox ears, Pixel started purring loudly, and Boba just sighed contentedly, apparently deciding my existential crisis made for a perfect nap opportunity.

“Why couldn’t they be stuck with someone else?” I whispered to my furry audience. “Someone worthy of three alphas? Someone who can actually shift properly, who knows how to be a proper mate?”

Pixel’s purring intensified, as if trying to drown out my self-pity.

“It’s not fair to them,” I continued, the words spilling out now that I had a nonjudgmental audience. “They’re perfect. Strong, powerful, beautiful. And I’m… this.” I gestured at my ears and tail, which still showed no signs of disappearing. “A half-shifter who can’t even control his own body.”

Boba snorted, as if disagreeing.

“It’s true,” I insisted. “You saw them last night with those women. That’s what they deserve—confident, beautiful wolf shifters who understand their world. Not me.”

The worst part wasn’t just that they didn’t want me—it was that my body seemed determined to torture me with wanting them.

Every touch, every scent, every look sent waves of heat through me that I couldn’t control.

The mate bond was already affecting me physically, making me hyperaware of them in ways that were going to make living under the same roof unbearable.

A knock at the door interrupted my pity party. Gentler than Cade’s authoritative rap, more hesitant.

“Go away,” I called, not bothering to lift my head from the pillow. “I’m busy cultivating despair.”

“It’s just me.” Drew’s voice came through the door. “I come bearing illegal contraband.”

I sighed, sitting up and dislodging my menagerie of pets. “Fine. Enter at your own risk. But if you make one fox joke, I’m using your favorite hoodie as a chew toy.”

The door opened, and Drew appeared with a paper bag that smelled suspiciously like the chocolate croissants from the bakery in town that Elena considered an abomination against pastry.

“Don’t tell Elena I smuggled these in,” he said, kicking the door shut behind him. “She’ll have my head mounted next to that creepy elk in the dining room.”

“Your sacrifice will be remembered in the revolution,” I deadpanned, making grabby hands at the bag. “Give me carbs or give me death.”

Drew tossed the bag onto the bed and flopped down beside me, nearly squashing Pixel who gave him a look of pure feline contempt before relocating to the windowsill. “So… still rocking the fuzzy accessories, I see. Very kawaii.”