Page 27 of Bound by Alphas 1: Bound (The Blood Moon Chronicle #3)

“What are you—put me down!” I squawked, suddenly very aware of how little I was wearing as my shirt rode up my thighs. “I can walk, you Neanderthal!”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he asked, adjusting his grip so that I was cradled against his chest like some damsel in a bodice-ripper novel. “Besides, you might try to escape.”

“I wouldn’t—” I began, then stopped because we both knew that was exactly what I’d do. “This is undignified.”

“You look perfectly dignified to me,” he replied, his eyes dropping to where my shirt had slipped off my shoulder. “Very dignified.”

I should have fought harder. Should have demanded he put me down.

Instead, I relaxed against him, my head coming to rest on his shoulder as if it belonged there.

He smelled like cedar and something distinctly Keir—a scent that had always made me feel safe, even when I was trying my hardest to avoid it.

“The pets are coming too,” I muttered, a token protest as he carried me toward the door.

“Of course,” he agreed, pausing in the doorway. “Mochi, Pixel, Boba—come.”

All three animals immediately perked up, following us with varying degrees of enthusiasm. Boba’s snorts echoed down the hallway as we made our way through the mansion, past Drew’s room where I could still hear laughter, and toward the opposite wing where the brothers’ suites were located.

I’d almost forgotten how different this part of the house was. While my wing was cozy and warm, the brothers’ was grand and imposing—all high ceilings and ornate moldings. Keir’s suite dominated the west side, a stunning blend of classic architecture and modern luxury spread across two floors.

“Show-off,” I mumbled as he carried me through the entrance.

The lower level opened into a magnificent sitting room where old-world elegance met cutting-edge technology.

Hand-carved wooden panels concealed state-of-the-art entertainment systems, while crystal chandeliers cast warm light over velvet couches and antique accent pieces.

A grand piano occupied one corner, its polished surface reflecting the glow from a marble fireplace.

His office, visible through French doors, was a testament to both beauty and function—leather-bound books sharing space with holographic displays, and a massive desk carved from a single piece of mahogany housing enough computing power to run a small country.

A sweeping staircase led to his private quarters above, where floor-to-ceiling windows offered a breathtaking view of the ocean and mountains beyond.

The bedroom itself was a masterpiece of understated opulence—vaulted ceilings with exposed beams, silk wallpaper, and ambient lighting that adjusted automatically to the time of day.

Unlike my cluttered space, Keir’s bedroom achieved perfect balance—a massive four-poster bed draped in Egyptian cotton and silk dominated one wall, while custom bookshelves lined another, housing first editions behind climate-controlled glass.

A sitting area near the windows featured buttery-soft leather chairs and a hidden TV that rose from an antique cabinet at the touch of a button.

The en suite bathroom was pure indulgence—heated marble floors, a shower with multiple heads and digital controls, and a sunken tub positioned to watch the sunset over the ocean. Everything spoke of careful curation, each piece selected to create an atmosphere of timeless sophistication.

He set me down on the bed with surprising gentleness, his hands lingering at my waist for a moment longer than necessary.

The pets immediately made themselves at home—Boba claiming a plush dog bed in the corner that looked suspiciously new, Mochi jumping onto the foot of the bed, and Pixel exploring the bookshelves with her usual disdain for gravity.

“You’ve been planning this,” I accused, noticing the dog bed and what looked like a cat tree in the corner. “Those weren’t here before.”

Keir shrugged, the movement drawing my attention to his shoulders. “I like to be prepared.”

“For kidnapping me and my pets?”

“For having you where you belong,” he corrected, his voice dropping to that register that made my insides turn to liquid.

I looked away, suddenly uncomfortable with the intensity in his eyes. The bed was familiar beneath me—the same impossibly soft sheets, the same mountain of pillows. It brought back memories I’d tried hard to suppress.

“I used to sleep here all the time,” I said quietly, running my hand over the comforter. “Back when…”

“Back when you didn’t run from us,” Keir finished, sitting beside me. The bed dipped under his weight, causing me to slide slightly toward him. “Before you decided we were the enemy.”

“I don’t think you’re the enemy,” I protested weakly. “I just…”

“Just what, Finn?” His hand found mine, fingers intertwining with a familiarity that made my chest ache. “What changed?”

Everything, I wanted to say. My body. My feelings. The way my heart raced when any of you walked into a room. The way I couldn’t look at you without imagining things I shouldn’t.

Instead, I shrugged. “Grew up, I guess. Needed my own space.”

He studied me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. “You used to rotate between our rooms. One night with Cade, one with Logan, one with me, one with Drew. You said you couldn’t sleep alone.”

The memory sent a pang through me. After my parents died—after whatever happened that night that I still couldn’t fully remember—I’d been plagued by nightmares. The only thing that kept them at bay was sleeping next to one of my brothers, feeling their steady heartbeats, knowing I wasn’t alone.

“I was a kid,” I said, trying to sound dismissive. “I grew out of it.”

“Did you?” Keir asked softly. “Or did you just start forcing yourself to face the nightmares alone?”

I looked away, uncomfortable with how easily he could still read me. “It was after that Blood Moon thing. When your—our—parents died. I couldn’t remember much, but the nightmares…”

“I remember,” he said, his thumb tracing circles on my palm. “You’d wake up screaming. The only way to calm you down was for one of us to hold you until you fell back asleep.”

I swallowed hard, the memory still raw despite the years. “I got better.”

“You got older,” he corrected. “There’s a difference.”

“Well, I couldn’t exactly keep crawling into my brothers’ beds at fifteen,” I said with a forced laugh. “That would have been weird.”

“Why?” he asked, his gaze suddenly intense. “Why would it have been weird, Finn?”

Because by then, I’d realized my feelings for you weren’t brotherly at all. Because I’d started waking up from different kinds of dreams—dreams that left me hot and aching and ashamed. Because I couldn’t trust myself not to do something stupid like kiss you.

“Because normal teenagers don’t need their big brothers to chase away the monsters,” I said instead, pulling my hand from his. “It was time to grow up.”

Keir was quiet for a long moment, his eyes never leaving my face. Finally, he sighed. “Well, tonight you’re back where you started. Sleeping in my bed, whether you like it or not.”

“Because of a bet,” I reminded him.

“Because of a bet,” he agreed, though something in his tone suggested there was more to it than that. “Now, which side do you want?”

I glanced at the massive bed, remembering how we used to sleep—me curled against his chest, his arm draped protectively over my waist. “I’ll take the window side.”

“Still like watching the stars?” he asked, a small smile playing at his lips.

“Still like having an escape route,” I countered, though we both knew it was a lie. The windows in this room were at least thirty feet off the ground, and despite what the brothers seemed to think, I didn’t actually have a death wish.

Keir laughed, the sound warming something cold inside me. “Some things never change.”

As he disappeared into the bathroom, I settled under the covers, trying to ignore how right it felt to be back in this bed.

Mochi immediately curled up at my feet, while Pixel claimed a pillow near my head.

From his plush bed in the corner, Boba watched with what looked suspiciously like canine amusement.

“Traitors,” I whispered to them. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

Pixel’s purr suggested she was firmly on the side of luxury, regardless of who provided it.

I was just starting to drift off when I felt the bed dip again as Keir returned. The scent of mint and cedar enveloped me as he slid under the covers, his body radiating heat like a furnace.

“Comfortable?” he asked, his voice a low rumble in the darkness.

“Mmm,” I mumbled, already half-asleep despite my best efforts to stay alert and guarded.

I expected him to stay on his side of the bed—it was certainly big enough for both of us to maintain a respectable distance. Instead, I felt his arm snake around my waist, pulling me back against his chest in one smooth motion.

“What are you doing?” I asked, suddenly wide awake as I felt the solid wall of his body pressed against my back.

“Getting comfortable,” he replied, his breath warm against my neck. “This is how we used to sleep, remember?”

I remembered all too well. “We were kids then.”

“And now we’re adults,” he said, his arm tightening slightly around me. “Is that the problem, Finn? That we’re not kids anymore?”

There was something in his voice—a question beneath the question—that made my heart race. I was acutely aware of every point of contact between us: his chest against my back, his arm around my waist, his legs tangled with mine.

“I don’t know what you mean,” I lied, my voice embarrassingly unsteady.

“I think you do,” he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. “I think you’ve been running from us because you’re afraid of what happens when you stop.”

I swallowed hard, grateful for the darkness that hid my expression. “You’re reading too much into a sleeping arrangement.”

“Am I?” His hand splayed across my stomach, warm even through the thin fabric of my t-shirt. “Then why is your heart racing?”

“Because you’re invading my personal space,” I retorted, though I made no move to pull away.

“Funny,” he mused, his thumb tracing small circles just above the waistband of my shorts. “You never used to mind my ‘invasions’ before. In fact, you used to seek them out.”

“That was?—”

“Different?” he supplied. “How?”

Because I didn’t understand what I was feeling then. Because I hadn’t realized that the comfort I sought from you was turning into something else entirely. Because I hadn’t known that fate had some sick joke planned where my adoptive brothers would turn out to be my mates.

“Just different,” I said finally, unable to articulate the tangled mess of emotions without revealing too much.

Keir was quiet for a long moment, his breathing steady against my neck. When he spoke again, his voice was softer. “I’ve missed this, you know. Having you close.”

The simple admission made something in my chest ache. “Keir…”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he assured me. “Just sleep. We can figure out the rest tomorrow.”

As if it were that simple. As if years of confusion and longing and guilt could be resolved over breakfast.

But his warmth was seeping into my bones, his heartbeat a steady rhythm against my back, and despite all my reservations, I relaxed into his embrace. It felt right in a way I didn’t want to examine too closely.

“Good night, little fox,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

“Night,” I whispered back, already feeling sleep tugging at the edges of my consciousness.

My last coherent thought before drifting off was that I was in serious trouble. Because as much as I wanted to deny it, there was nowhere I’d rather be than exactly where I was—wrapped in Keir’s arms, surrounded by his scent, pretending for just one night that this could be real.

That I could be his.

That they could be mine.