Page 24 of Bound by Alphas 1: Bound (The Blood Moon Chronicle #3)

The race started, and I leaned forward, gripping the controller like it might try to escape.

My character—a sleek red sports car with ridiculous cartoon flames—shot off the starting line.

Keir’s midnight-blue racer stayed irritatingly close to my bumper, shadowing my every move with a precision that shouldn’t have been possible for someone who claimed business calls were more important than maintaining his racing skills.

“Not bad for someone who probably learned to drive on a Model T,” I taunted as my car pulled ahead on a particularly treacherous hairpin turn.

“A Model T?” Keir’s laugh rumbled through me like bass at a concert I was standing too close to. “I’m twenty-five, not a fossil exhibit.”

“In gaming years, that’s practically prehistoric,” I shot back, swerving to avoid a power-up trap he’d cunningly placed in my path. “You probably still think Pong is cutting-edge technology.”

Drew snorted from his spot on the floor. “He’s got you there, bro.”

“Bold words from someone about to eat my digital dust,” Keir replied, his car suddenly surging forward to challenge mine.

I was vaguely aware of movement at the doorway—the Blackwood cousins had drifted back, their perfect smiles in place as they settled on the love seat across the room.

Mia gave me an encouraging thumbs-up while Sophia cheered for a particularly impressive maneuver I managed around a virtual oil slick.

“How about we make this interesting?” Keir suggested as we started the final lap, his thigh pressing more firmly against mine in a way that sent electricity up my spine.

“Define interesting,” I replied, trying to focus on the screen and not the fact that I could feel his body heat through two layers of denim.

“A wager,” he said, his voice dropping to that low register that always made my insides perform acrobatics. “If I win, you sleep in my room tonight.”

I nearly drove off a cliff. “What?”

“Just sleep,” he clarified, though the gleam in his eyes suggested otherwise. “I’m tired of you avoiding us.”

“And if I win?” I managed to ask, my heart doing its best hummingbird impression.

Keir’s smile was slow and calculated, like a chess player seeing checkmate five moves ahead. “Name your price, little fox.”

My mind raced faster than our virtual cars. What did I want? Freedom? Space? The application fees for art schools that kept mysteriously disappearing from my online cart? No—something specific, something I’d been eyeing forever.

“Your car,” I blurted. “For a weekend. No tracking, no following, no overprotective alpha nonsense.”

Keir’s vintage convertible was his baby, a sleek silver beast he polished with more care than most people gave their firstborn. The freedom it represented—even temporarily—made my fox ears want to pop out in excitement.

His eyebrows shot up. “You drive a hard bargain for someone whose driving instructor quit in tears.”

“That was one mailbox,” I protested, executing a perfect drift around a corner. “And it jumped out of nowhere.”

“Mailboxes are notorious for their ambush tactics,” he deadpanned. “Deal.”

Drew whistled low. “This just got serious. Five bucks says Finn crashes in the next thirty seconds.”

“Your faith is overwhelming,” I muttered, taking a corner so sharply my knuckles went white on the controller.

Jake and Tyler exchanged glances, clearly entertained by the alpha being challenged so directly. From the corner of my eye, I saw Sophia lean forward, her perfect features arranged in an expression of delighted interest.

“You’ve got this, Finn!” Mia called, though her eyes kept drifting to Keir’s profile with unmistakable appreciation.

The final stretch was intense, both of us hunched forward like old men reading fine print, controllers gripped with white-knuckle determination.

I was ahead by a whisker, victory tantalizingly close, when Keir unleashed a power-up I hadn’t seen coming.

My car spun wildly, tires smoking, while his sleek racer slipped past me to claim first place.

“No!” I groaned, dropping my controller dramatically onto the couch. “That was highway robbery! I demand an investigation! Stewards’ inquiry!”

“That was tactical brilliance,” Keir corrected, his victorious smile making something hot and liquid pool in places I refused to acknowledge. “And now you’re mine for the night.”

The possessive declaration hung in the air, charged with meaning that went far beyond a simple bet about sleeping arrangements.

Drew cleared his throat awkwardly while Tyler suddenly found the ceiling texture absolutely fascinating.

The temperature in the room seemed to spike ten degrees, and I swear I could hear my own pulse.

“Rematch,” I demanded, trying to ignore the blush I could feel painting my face the same shade as my virtual car. “That was clearly beginner’s luck.”

“Beginner?” Keir’s expression was all wounded dignity. “I’ll have you know I was winning racing tournaments while you were still learning your colors.”

“Yeah, back in the Stone Age,” I shot back. “Best two out of three?”

“You’re on,” he agreed, eyes never leaving mine. “Though I should warn you—I only get better with practice.”

The suggestive undertone wasn’t lost on anyone in the room. Drew made a gagging sound that he poorly disguised as a cough.

The second race was even more intense, with Drew and the others providing commentary that ranged from helpful—“Watch out for that turn!”—absolutely not—“Keir, your tongue is hanging out, dude.”

I was vaguely aware of Sophia and Mia exchanging glances, their perfect smiles slipping just slightly as Keir’s attention remained firmly fixed on me instead of them. It shouldn’t have given me satisfaction, but my fox nature had always been slightly possessive—at least, that’s what I told myself.

This time I emerged victorious, throwing my arms up in a victory dance that involved more flailing than actual coordination. “Ha! In your face, Sinclair! Who’s prehistoric now?”

“Congratulations,” Keir said, not looking particularly disappointed for someone who’d just lost. “One all. The next race determines everything.”

The third race would decide my fate. My palms were so sweaty the controller was in danger of becoming a projectile. I was going to win this—had to win this. Not just for the car, but because losing meant…

Well, losing meant spending the night with Keir. Which shouldn’t have sent such a thrill through me but did. A thrill that felt suspiciously like anticipation rather than dread.

We were neck and neck the entire final lap, trading the lead back and forth like a hot potato. The room had gone silent except for the game’s soundtrack and the occasional muttered curse—mostly from me. As we approached the finish line, I had the slightest edge—victory was within my grasp.

And then I felt it. Keir’s hand, casually dropping to my thigh, his fingers tracing a small circle just above my knee that somehow felt more intimate than a full-body embrace.

The touch was so unexpected, so distracting, that I jerked the controller sideways, sending my car careening into a guardrail with a spectacular crash.

“That’s cheating!” I gasped as Keir’s car crossed the finish line first. “Flagrant interference! Red card! Technical foul!”

His laugh was pure sin wrapped in velvet. “All’s fair in love and racing games.”

“Did you see that?” I appealed to Drew, gesturing wildly at Keir. “He deliberately sabotaged me! With—with touching!”

Drew held up his hands like I was pointing a weapon. “I’m staying out of this romantic disaster in progress, thanks.”

“Wise man,” Keir said, setting down his controller with the satisfied air of a cat who’d not only caught the canary but had negotiated ownership of the entire aviary. “Looks like you’re bunking with me tonight, Finn.”

The Blackwood cousins chose that moment to make their presence more known, Sophia’s melodic laugh drawing attention. “You two are hilarious together. I can see why Drew says you have the whole house wrapped around your finger, Finn.”

“It’s more like they have me wrapped in bubble wrap,” I muttered, though I couldn’t help smiling at her friendly assessment.

“If you’re done with games,” Mia added, her voice warm and inviting, “we were hoping you might show us the grounds, Keir. Drew mentioned there’s a lovely rose garden?”

Keir’s eyes never left mine as he answered. “Perhaps tomorrow. I have other plans for the evening.”

The polite deflection was delivered with such charming regret that it was impossible to take offense. Still, I didn’t miss the flash of disappointment that crossed both cousins’ faces.

“Of course,” Sophia said smoothly. “Another time. Maybe Finn could show us his artwork instead? Drew says you’re incredibly talented.”

“I, uh—” I stammered, caught off guard by her interest.

“Finn’s studio is private,” Keir interjected, his tone still pleasant but with an unmistakable firmness underneath. “Artists need their sacred spaces. I’m sure you understand.”

Something in his voice made it clear the subject wasn’t open for negotiation. I felt a strange surge of gratitude mixed with surprise at his protection of my space.

“Of course,” Mia said quickly. “We wouldn’t want to intrude on your creative process.”

As they excused themselves to freshen up before dinner, I turned my attention back to Keir. “I’m still convinced you cheated. That was psychological warfare.”

Keir leaned closer, his breath warm against my ear. “Would you like a rematch? Double or nothing?”

“What would ‘double’ even be?” I asked, trying to sound irritated rather than intrigued. “You take my firstborn too?”

His smile was slow and deliberate, blue eyes darkening as they dropped to my lips. “Use your imagination, little fox. I’m sure it’s as creative as the rest of you.”

Drew loudly cleared his throat. “And that’s my cue to evacuate the premises. Come on, guys.”

Jake and Tyler followed Drew’s hasty exit, leaving me alone with Keir.

“You don’t have to stay with me tonight,” Keir said, his voice gentler than before. “Not if you really don’t want to.”

The fact that he was offering me an out only made the decision harder.

I should take it—should maintain the distance I’d been so carefully cultivating.

But a month of isolation had left me touch-starved and lonely, and the thought of falling asleep to Keir’s heartbeat was more tempting than I wanted to admit.

“I keep my promises,” I said finally, meeting his gaze. “Even ones made under duress and blatant cheating. But if you snore, all bets are off.”

His smile was genuine this time, reaching his eyes and making them crinkle at the corners in a way that artists would kill to capture. “Good. Because I’ve missed you, Finn. We all have.”

Before I could respond, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to my forehead—a brief, gentle touch that was over almost before I registered it had happened. Not a claiming, not a demand, just a promise of what could be.

“Just so you know what you’re getting into,” he murmured, pulling back just enough to gauge my reaction.

“That’s cheating too,” I whispered, my voice embarrassingly unsteady.

Keir’s laugh was soft and warm against my skin. “Like I said—all’s fair.”