Page 28 of Bound by Alphas 1: Bound (The Blood Moon Chronicle #3)

I woke to the feeling of being watched.

Not the creepy, horror-movie kind of watching—more like the intense, alpha-werewolf-cataloging-every-detail-of-your-face kind. Which, honestly, might actually be creepier.

Cracking one eye open confirmed my suspicion. Keir sat on the edge of the bed, already dressed in jeans and a fitted Henley, a steaming mug in his hand and a smile playing at his lips as he studied me.

“That’s not at all disturbing,” I mumbled, pulling the covers higher. “Do you always stare at sleeping people, or am I just special?”

“Definitely special,” he replied, his voice morning-rough in a way that did unfortunate things to my insides. “Sleep well?”

The annoying part was that I had. Better than I had in weeks, maybe months. Something about being surrounded by Keir’s scent, wrapped in his arms, had quieted the restlessness that usually plagued my nights.

“I’ve had worse,” I admitted grudgingly, stretching before I remembered I was wearing only shorts and a t-shirt that kept slipping off my shoulder. I quickly tugged it back into place, but not before Keir’s eyes tracked the movement with predatory focus.

“I made you this,” he said, offering me the mug. “Elena’s secret recipe.”

I accepted it cautiously, inhaling the rich scent of chocolate and cinnamon. “Hot chocolate?”

“You always liked it in the mornings.” He shrugged.

The fact that he remembered such a small detail about me—a preference I’d developed when I was ten—made something warm unfurl in my chest. I took a sip to hide whatever embarrassing emotion might be showing on my face.

“It’s good,” I conceded. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” His smile widened, satisfaction evident in every line of his body. “The others are already downstairs. Drew’s friends want to go to the lake today.”

And just like that, the peaceful bubble burst. Reality came crashing back—Drew’s friends, the Blackwood cousins, the way Cade and Logan had flirted with them at dinner.

The memory sent a spike of something dark and possessive through me, which was ridiculous.

I had no claim on any of the brothers, no matter what some mystical mate ceremony said.

“Sounds fun,” I lied, taking another sip of chocolate. “I should probably get ready.”

Keir’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if he could read the sudden shift in my mood. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

“And miss all the excitement? Perish the thought.” My sarcasm was a familiar shield, comfortable and well worn.

He studied me for a moment longer, then stood with that fluid grace that made my artist’s eye want to capture the movement on paper. “I’ll see you downstairs. Don’t take too long or Elena will send out a search party.”

After he left, I flopped back onto the pillows, staring at the ceiling. My pets had already abandoned me—Pixel exploring Keir’s bookshelves, Mochi curled in a patch of sunlight by the window, and Boba snoring contentedly in his new plush bed. Traitors, all of them.

“This is fine,” I told the ceiling. “Totally normal. Just spend the day watching your not really brothers flirt with beautiful werewolf women while pretending you don’t care. What could possibly go wrong?”

The ceiling, predictably, offered no advice.

With a sigh, I hauled myself out of bed, gathering my dignity and my pets. Time to face the day and whatever fresh hell it had in store for me.

The hallway was quiet as I made my way back to my room, pets trailing behind me in various states of enthusiasm.

Pixel trotted ahead with her tail high, while Mochi stuck close to my heels.

Boba brought up the rear, his stubby legs working overtime to keep up, punctuated by dramatic snorts of exertion.

I was so focused on not spilling my hot chocolate that I nearly collided with a wall of muscle as I rounded the corner.

“Whoa there.” Logan’s hands steadied me, his grip gentle but firm on my shoulders. “In a hurry?”

I looked up—way up—to find him watching me with an expression I couldn’t quite read. His hair was damp from a shower, his t-shirt clinging to his still-humid skin in ways that made my mouth go dry.

“Just heading back to my room,” I managed, acutely aware that I probably looked like something the cat dragged in—bedhead, wrinkled sleep clothes, and pillow creases on my face.

Logan’s eyes tracked over me, lingering on the shirt slipping off my shoulder again. “You look… rested.”

“Amazing what sleeping in an actual bed will do,” I quipped, trying to subtly tug my shirt back into place without sloshing chocolate everywhere.

His lips quirked up at one corner. “Better than the studio floor?”

“You know about that?”

“We know everything that happens in this house, little fox,” he replied, his voice dropping to a register that sent a shiver down my spine.

He reached out and ruffled my already chaotic hair.

The casual gesture was so unexpected that I froze, my brain short-circuiting at the feel of his fingers against my scalp.

“Breakfast is in twenty minutes,” he said, stepping back. “Elena made your favorite.”

“Cinnamon French toast?” I asked, unable to hide my enthusiasm.

His smile widened. “With extra maple syrup.”

“I’ll be there in fifteen,” I promised, already calculating how quickly I could shower.

Logan nodded, then moved past me, his hand brushing against mine in a touch that felt too deliberate to be accidental. I stood there for a moment, watching him disappear down the hallway, trying to ignore the warmth spreading through me from that brief contact.

What the hell was happening? First Keir with the hot chocolate and now Logan with the hair-ruffling and the promises of my favorite breakfast. It was like they were… but no. That was ridiculous. They were just being nice because I’d finally emerged from my self-imposed exile. That was all.

Shaking off the confusing thoughts, I hurried to my room to get ready for the day ahead.

By the time I made it downstairs twenty minutes later, the kitchen was already bustling with activity.

Elena moved with practiced efficiency between the stove and counter, spatula in hand as she flipped perfect slices of French toast. Drew sat at the island with Jake and Tyler, all three laughing at something on Tyler’s phone.

The Blackwood cousins were nowhere to be seen, which was a small mercy.

“There he is.” Drew grinned when he spotted me. “Sleeping Beauty finally joins us.”

“Bite me,” I replied cheerfully, sliding onto a stool beside him. “Some of us need our beauty sleep.”

“Clearly not working,” he shot back, ducking when I aimed a swat at his head.

Elena placed a plate in front of me, the French toast arranged in a perfect stack and drizzled with an obscene amount of maple syrup. “Eat,” she commanded.

“Yes, ma’am,” I said, digging in with enthusiasm. Elena’s French toast was legendary—crisp on the outside, custardy on the inside, with just the right amount of cinnamon.

I was halfway through my second slice when Cade entered the kitchen, his presence immediately commanding attention. He wore casual clothes—jeans and a navy Henley that made his eyes look even bluer—but somehow managed to make them look like designer wear.

“Morning,” he said, his gaze sweeping the room before landing on me. “Sleep well?”

There was something in his tone—a knowing quality that made me wonder if Keir had shared details of our sleeping arrangement through their weird alpha telepathy.

“Like the dead,” I replied, focusing on my breakfast to avoid meeting his eyes. “Keir’s bed is ridiculously comfortable.”

“I’m aware,” Cade said dryly, accepting a mug of coffee from Elena.

An awkward silence fell, broken only by the sound of my fork against the plate. I could feel everyone watching me, waiting for some kind of reaction. Drew looked like he was about to burst from holding in whatever comment was dancing on the tip of his tongue.

Thankfully, the Blackwood cousins chose that moment to make their entrance, both looking unfairly gorgeous in color-coordinated outfits.

“Good morning, everyone,” Sophia greeted, her smile brightening when she spotted Cade. “We were just discussing how perfect the weather is for our lake day.”

“Can’t wait,” I muttered into my French toast, not even trying to sound convincing.

“The lake is beautiful this time of year,” Mia added, moving to stand closer to Logan, who had appeared in the doorway. “I’ve been looking forward to seeing it.”

“We’re leaving in about an hour,” Drew announced, clapping his hands together. “So everyone better get their stuff together.”

As everyone began discussing logistics—what to pack, when to leave, who would drive—I felt a presence at my back. Keir had materialized behind me, his breath warm against my ear as he leaned down.

“Still planning your escape?” he murmured, his voice pitched for my ears alone. “Your expression is painfully obvious.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I whispered back. “I love lakes. And boats. And spending extended periods of time in enclosed spaces with people who make me uncomfortable.”

His laugh was a warm puff of air against my neck. “Liar.”

“It takes one to know one,” I countered, turning to face him.

His eyes crinkled at the corners, genuine amusement softening his features. “Remember, you don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

“And miss all this family bonding?” I gestured vaguely at the Blackwood cousins, who were now hovering near Cade and Logan. “Besides, I already said I would. I’m a man of my word.”

“In that case,” he replied, “bring a book, and if anyone tries to make you participate in water sports?—”

“I’ll claim artistic temperament and refuse to cooperate,” I finished with a half smile.

“Wouldn’t expect anything less.” Keir grinned, straightening up just as Sophia approached.

“Keir.” She smiled, her hand coming to rest on his arm. “I was hoping you could tell me more about the lake. Is it very deep?”