Page 11 of Bound by Alphas 1: Bound (The Blood Moon Chronicle #3)

“I warned you about fox jokes,” I growled, though my treacherous tail swished with amusement. “And don’t use Japanese words unless you want me to correct your atrocious pronunciation again.”

“Sorry, Mr. I-Took-Two-Semesters-Of-Japanese,” Drew rolled his eyes, reaching for a croissant. “Excuse me for trying to connect with your cultural heritage.”

“My ‘cultural heritage’ is currently manifesting as unwanted body parts, so maybe let’s not celebrate it too hard,” I muttered, biting into the buttery pastry with unnecessary aggression.

“God, these are good. Elena would commit murder if she knew we were eating Petit Patisserie instead of her creations.”

“Hence the ‘contraband’ warning.” Drew nodded sagely. “I risked death by wooden spoon for you. Remember that when you’re dividing your estate.”

“You’ll get all my worldly possessions—both paintbrushes and my extensive collection of ramen packets,” I promised solemnly.

Drew stretched out, careful not to disturb Pixel. “So… about last night.”

I tensed, not wanting to revisit the humiliation of watching my newly revealed mates flirting with others right in front of me. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You mean you don’t want to talk about how you disappeared from your own party to research art schools across the country?” Drew asked, his tone gentle rather than accusatory.

My head snapped up. “How did you?—”

“Your laptop was still open when I checked on you this morning.” He held up his hands defensively. “I wasn’t snooping, I swear. Just making sure you hadn’t suffocated yourself with Keir’s jacket.”

Heat flooded my cheeks at the reminder.

“I’m just looking at options,” I said, trying to sound casual. “It’s not like I’ve made any decisions.”

“Chicago’s pretty far,” Drew observed. “So is New York. And Boston.”

“They have good art programs,” I defended.

“They do,” he agreed easily. “They’re also about as far from Washington as you can get without swimming.”

I couldn’t meet his eyes. “I need space. After yesterday… I can’t stay here and watch them with other people. It would kill me.”

Drew’s expression softened. “I get it. I do. But running across the country isn’t the only option. There are great art schools closer to home.”

“Closer to home means closer to them,” I pointed out. “And I need… distance.”

“Whatever you decide, you know I’ve got your back, right?” Drew said, his usual teasing tone giving way to sincerity. “Even if it means helping you move across the country and dealing with Cade’s inevitable meltdown.”

The sincerity in his voice made my throat tight. “Thanks. And if he tries to lock me in the tower, you’ll bring me files in birthday cakes, right?”

“Obviously. What are brothers for?”

The word ‘brothers’ hit differently now, making my ears flatten against my head. Drew noticed immediately and winced.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean?—”

“It’s fine,” I cut him off. “Really. I know what you meant.”

An awkward silence fell between us, broken only by Boba’s snoring from the foot of the bed. The little potato could sleep through the apocalypse.

“So,” Drew finally said, clearly looking to change the subject. “What are your plans for the day? Besides hiding in your room and perfecting your impression of a teenage drama?”

I threw a pillow at him, which he caught easily. “I was planning to stay here until either these”—I gestured to my ears and tail—“disappear, or I figure out how to fake my own death and start a new life as a carnival attraction. ‘Come see the amazing half-boy, half-fox! Only five dollars!’”

“Counterproposal,” Drew said, tossing the pillow back. “We go down to the beach, soak up some sun, maybe swim a bit. I could use a run, and you could use some vitamin D before you actually turn into the pasty art gremlin you’re impersonating.”

The idea was tempting. After being cooped up in my room all morning, the thought of feeling sand between my toes and sun on my skin was appealing.

“What about…” I gestured vaguely toward my ears.

“Private beach, remember? No one around for miles except maybe Mr. Ramirez on his security rounds, and he’s seen you with fox parts before.” Drew stood, stretching. “Come on. It’s too nice a day to waste moping. Even your tail agrees.”

I looked down to find my traitor tail wagging slightly at the prospect of the beach. Damn thing had a mind of its own.

“Fine,” I conceded. “Give me fifteen minutes to shower.”

“Ten,” Drew countered. “Or I’m sending Boba in to hurry you up.”

“That potato couldn’t hurry a snail,” I called after him as he left. But I was already gathering my things for the shower.

This wasn’t my first rodeo with fox parts.

I’d developed a routine for washing around them, careful not to get soap in my sensitive ears or pull on my tail the wrong way.

The first time I’d had to deal with a tail in the shower, I’d nearly drowned myself trying to figure out the logistics.

Now it was just another annoying part of being a defective shifter.

Twenty minutes later—because I refused to be rushed, no matter what Drew threatened—I was dressed in board shorts and a loose tank top that accommodated my tail. Drew was waiting on the back deck with a beach bag, my three pets already dancing excitedly around his feet.

“Finally,” he said, tossing me a bottle of sunscreen. “I was about to send in the search party. Or worse, Logan.”

“Some things can’t be rushed,” I replied loftily, catching the bottle. “Beauty takes time, Drew. Not that you’d know anything about that.”

“Says the guy with fox ears,” he shot back, but there was no heat in it. “Come on, the tide’s perfect.”

The path to the beach wound through carefully landscaped gardens before opening onto a stretch of pristine sand that belonged exclusively to the Sinclair estate. The Pacific stretched out before us, glittering in the late morning sun, waves crashing rhythmically against the shore.

“Race you to the water!” Drew called, already sprinting ahead. Mochi took off after him, barking excitedly, while Boba attempted to follow with his stubby legs churning comically in the sand. Pixel gave us all a look of disdain before finding a sunny spot to lounge.

For a moment, I hesitated. Then something wild and free surged within me—something that felt like my fox—and I was running, my bare feet kicking up sand, my tail streaming behind me.

The sensation was exhilarating, my body moving with a grace I’d never felt before, as if the partial shift had unlocked something new in me.

I beat Drew to the water’s edge, laughing as I splashed into the surf. The cold Pacific water shocked my system, but in the best way, washing away the last of my melancholy.

“No fair!” Drew protested, joining me in the shallows. “You’ve got fox speed now! That’s basically supernatural steroids!”

“Sounds like sore loser talk to me,” I taunted, flicking water at him. “Maybe you should try growing some ears too. Might improve your aerodynamics.”

He retaliated by tackling me into an oncoming wave, both of us going under in a tangle of limbs. I came up sputtering, my ears flattened against my wet hair, my tail sodden and twice as heavy.

“Jerk!” I laughed, shoving him. “Do you know how long it takes to dry fur? I’m going to look like I stuck my tail in a socket!”

“Sounds like a personal problem.” Drew grinned, shaking water from his hair like the canine he was. “Maybe you should have thought about that before you cheated.”

“It’s not cheating if it’s a genetic mutation I can’t control,” I argued, but I was already plotting my revenge, waiting for him to turn before launching myself onto his back and dunking him under.

We spent the next hour like that—swimming, splashing, chasing each other along the shoreline like we had when we were kids.

Mochi joined in enthusiastically, while Boba contented himself with patrolling the water’s edge, barking at particularly offensive waves.

Even Pixel eventually deigned to approach, though she stayed well away from the water, her one good eye tracking our movements with feline judgment.

Eventually, overheated and out of breath, I collapsed onto the sand, letting the sun warm my skin. Drew flopped down beside me, and for a while, we just lay there in companionable silence, listening to the waves.

“This was a good idea,” I admitted finally. “Thanks for dragging me out of my pity cave.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” Drew said, nudging my shoulder with his. “Someone has to make sure you actually see sunlight occasionally. You were starting to look like one of your vampire manga characters.”

I turned my head to look at him, suddenly grateful for his presence. For all our bickering, Drew had always been my rock—the one constant in a house full of alpha energy and expectations. “Seriously, though. Thanks for… everything.”

His expression softened. “Always, Finn. You know that.”

A comfortable silence fell between us again. After a while, Drew sat up, looking out at the ocean with an odd expression.

“What?” I asked, propping myself up on my elbows. “Did you spot a shark? Because if this is another Baby Shark prank, I swear to God?—”

“Nothing like that,” he said too quickly. “Just thinking about going for a run. It’s been a while since I shifted.”

I understood immediately. Drew tried to shift at least once a day, believing that regular practice helped maintain control.

“Go for it,” I encouraged, sitting up fully. “The beach is perfect for a run.”

Drew grinned, already pulling off his t-shirt. “You sure you don’t mind? With your…” He gestured vaguely at my ears.

I waved away his concern. “Please. I’m used to being the defective shifter in the group. It’s my brand at this point. I’m thinking of getting business cards: ‘Finn Sinclair: Supernatural Disappointment.’”

“You’re not defective,” Drew said automatically, but he was already moving a few paces away, preparing for the change.

Unlike the brothers, whose transformations were displays of raw power and grace—like watching living art—Drew’s shift was more straightforward.

Practical, efficient, without the dramatic flair that seemed to come naturally to alphas.

His form blurred, bones and muscles rearranging themselves in a fluid motion that took mere seconds.

Where Drew had stood moments before, a large wolf now looked back at me—dark-brown fur with hints of red and intelligent hazel eyes that were unmistakably Drew’s.

“Still cool,” I said appreciatively. “No matter how many times I see it.”

Drew made a sound that might have been laughter, then bounded over to me, nudging my hand with his muzzle. His fur was softer, warm and thick beneath my fingers.

“Show-off,” I muttered, but I was smiling. “Just because some of us are stuck with the starter pack version of shifting doesn’t mean you have to rub it in.”

He responded by licking my face, then dancing away before I could retaliate, clearly inviting me to chase him. I was on my feet, running after him along the shoreline. My fox parts seemed to enhance my speed and agility, allowing me to keep pace with him in a way I never could have before.

“Maybe these ridiculous appendages are good for something after all,” I called as I nearly caught his tail, only for him to dart away at the last second.

We raced back and forth along the beach, Drew occasionally letting me catch him before bounding away again.

Mochi and Boba joined the game, barking excitedly as they tried to keep up.

For those moments, I forgot about the ceremony, forgot about the brothers, forgot about everything except the joy of running with my brother under the summer sun.

I didn’t notice the prickling sensation at the back of my neck at first, too caught up in our game. But gradually, I became aware of a feeling—a warmth, a pull, a sense of being watched. I slowed, turning toward the mansion that loomed on the cliff above us.

The distance was too great to make out details, but I could see figures on the upper deck—three of them, standing close together, looking down at the beach. At us. At me.

A shiver ran through me that had nothing to do with the ocean breeze. Even from here, I could feel them—their presence, their focus, their… something else I couldn’t quite name. My fox ears swiveled toward them of their own accord, and my tail swished nervously.

Drew, noticing my distraction, shifted back to human form in one fluid motion. “What’s up?” he asked, following my gaze.

“They’re watching,” I said quietly.

Drew squinted toward the mansion, then shrugged. “Probably just checking that we’re okay. Logan’s paranoid about security, especially at the beach.”

I wasn’t so sure. There was something about the way they stood, so still and focused, that made me think this wasn’t just routine surveillance. It felt more… primal. Possessive, almost. The sensation pulsed through the bond between us, making my skin tingle and my heart race. Hunger. Need. Mine.

But that was probably just wishful thinking, my confused emotions projecting meaning onto ordinary behavior. After all, they’d been watching over me for years—as brothers, as protectors. Not as mates. Never as mates.

“We should head back,” I said, suddenly feeling exposed. “I’m getting hungry.”

Drew looked like he wanted to argue, but something in my expression must have convinced him. “Sure. Lunch sounds good.”

As we gathered our things and called to the pets, I couldn’t help glancing back up at the mansion.

The three figures were still there, still watching.

And despite the distance, despite the impossibility of it, I felt something through the bond that connected us—a pulse of emotion so intense it made my breath catch.

Longing. Hunger. Need.

But that was probably just wishful thinking, my heart creating fantasies to protect itself from the pain of reality.