Page 22 of Bound by Alphas 1: Bound (The Blood Moon Chronicle #3)

I ’d been avoiding the brothers for a month—thirty-one days of ducking around corners, inventing projects that didn’t exist, and spending more time in my studio than probably qualified as healthy.

My fox features had finally decided to behave, mostly, though they still had an annoying habit of appearing whenever one of the alphas got too close or looked at me with that particular intensity.

The art school applications had become my secret project, my potential escape route from this supernatural mess I’d been thrust into.

Seattle, Portland, San Francisco, Los Angeles, Chicago, New York—I’d applied everywhere, hoping at least one would offer me a lifeline.

The rejections from the East Coast schools had already started arriving, exactly one month after my applications—far faster than normal processing time.

I tried not to think about what—or who—might be behind that.

“We need to talk, Finn.” Cade had cornered me in the kitchen three days ago, his voice doing that authoritative thing that made my stomach flip in ways I refused to analyze.

“Sorry, I promised Elena I’d help with… something,” I’d mumbled, slipping past him before he could stop me.

It wasn’t my most creative excuse, but it had worked.

They all had—the sudden headache, the forgotten assignment, the urgent need to reorganize my paints by viscosity.

I was running out of excuses, and they were running out of patience.

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, nino,” 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.

An hour later, I stepped back and froze.

I’d painted a wolf—not explicitly any particular one, but the powerful silhouette against a moonlit forest, the suggestion of watchful eyes and protective stance… it could have been any of them. All of them.

“Traitor,” I muttered to my hand, setting down the brush with more force than necessary.

A knock at the door saved me from contemplating my apparent inability to escape even in my art.

“You hiding in there?” Drew’s voice called.

“I’m working,” I replied, quickly turning the canvas to face the wall. “Very important artist things happening.”

“Well, stop being important and come be social,” he countered. “We’re heading to the beach, and Sophia’s already threatened to hunt you down if you don’t come willingly.”

I sighed, setting down my palette. “Fine. Give me five minutes to change.”

The beach sounded good, actually. Open space, fresh air, and most importantly, distance from the main house where three alpha werewolves were probably discussing my future without my input.

Ten minutes later, I trailed behind Drew and his friends as we headed down the private path to the Sinclairs’ stretch of beach. The afternoon sun was warm on my skin, and for a moment, I could almost pretend things were normal.

“So.” Sophia fell into step beside me. “What are you up to now? Drew mentioned you’re crazy talented with art.”

“Trying to escape to art school,” I said, then winced at my poor word choice. “I mean, I’m applying to programs. Though my applications seem to be getting mysteriously rejected at record speed.”

She gave me a knowing look. “Protective alpha brothers with connections?”

“How did you?—”

“Please.” She waved a hand dismissively. “Xander, my cousin, once had my prom date investigated by private security. Old wolf families all operate from the same playbook.”

“That’s… actually terrifying.”

“Blackwoods.” She shrugged, as if that explained everything. Maybe it did.

“Your family has a reputation,” I said carefully.

“For being traditional, stuck-up purists?” she asked bluntly. “Yeah, that’s the old guard. My generation’s different.”

“Hence the powder-blue Beetle instead of a black SUV with tinted windows?”

She grinned. “Exactly. Drives my uncle crazy, which is half the point.”

We reached the beach, and I felt something in my chest loosen at the sight of the endless Pacific stretching before us. Drew and Tyler immediately stripped down to their shorts and raced toward the surf.

“Boys,” Mia said with a fond eye roll as she spread out a blanket. “No matter the species, they never grow up.”

I settled onto the blanket beside her, watching as Jake joined the others in what appeared to be a competition to see who could get the most soaked in the shortest time.

“Not joining them?” Sophia asked, stretching out like a cat in the sun.

“I prefer to maintain my dignity and stay dry, thanks,” I replied. “Besides, someone needs to guard the snacks from seagulls.”

“Smart thinking.” She laughed.

Drew chose that moment to return from the water, shaking himself like the wolf he was and spraying us all with icy droplets.

“Drew!” Mia shrieked, holding up her hands in a futile attempt to block the water. “I will end you!”

“You’ll have to catch me first,” he taunted, dancing away as she lunged for him.

I watched them chase each other across the sand, something like envy twisting in my chest. They made it look so easy—this supernatural existence, this belonging.

“They’re good people,” Sophia said quietly, following my gaze. “Despite what you might have heard about Blackwoods.”

“I don’t doubt it,” I replied honestly. “Drew wouldn’t be friends with you otherwise.”

She smiled, a genuine expression that transformed her face.