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

My chest tightened. “That’s four years, Cade. Four years of… what? Following me? Spying on me? Having someone report back on my every move?”

“Keeping you safe,” he corrected. “Making sure you had space to… get this out of your system.”

“My life isn’t something to ‘get out of my system,’” I snapped. “It’s my life. Mine. Not yours to monitor or manage or manipulate.”

“A life you’ve been wasting,” Cade said, his voice hardening. “Hiding what you are. Pretending to be ordinary when you’re anything but.”

“And what am I, exactly?” I challenged, heart pounding so hard I was sure they could hear it.

Cade’s smile was knowing. “Something rare. Something precious. Something that belongs with its pack, not alone in a concrete jungle pretending to be ordinary.”

I swallowed hard, looking between them. “And if I refuse to go back?”

Logan’s laugh was without humor. “That’s not an option anymore, little brother. The choice has been made.”

“Not by me,” I pointed out.

“No,” Cade agreed, his hand settling on my knee with casual possession. “By us. Your alphas. Your family.” His fingers squeezed gently.

The touch sent electricity through my veins, a visceral reminder of why I’d run in the first place. Four years ago, at the beach. When one touch had turned into something more, something that both thrilled and terrified me with its intensity.

“Stop it,” I hissed, trying to move away. The SUV suddenly felt too small, too hot, too filled with their scents that made my head spin.

“Your scent changes when we touch you,” Cade continued, his voice dropping lower. “That’s why you ran, isn’t it? Not because of art school. Because you were afraid of what was happening between us.”

“Nothing is happening between us,” I insisted, even as my body trembled under his touch. “Nothing will happen between us. This is insane.”

“Is it?” Cade’s eyes had darkened, pupils dilating. “Then why does your heart race when I do this?” His hand moved to the back of my neck, fingers threading through my hair.

A whimper escaped before I could stop it, my body arching into his touch like a cat seeking affection. Humiliation burned through me at my reaction.

“That’s just—that’s biology,” I stammered. “Doesn’t mean anything.”

“It means everything,” Cade murmured, leaning closer. His scent enveloped me—cedar and rain and something uniquely him. “You’re ours, Finn. You’ve always been ours. Running away didn’t change that.”

“I’m not property,” I managed, though my voice sounded weak even to my own ears.

“No,” he agreed. “You belong with us. And we’re taking you home where you belong.”

I made one last desperate attempt, lunging for the door handle. Cade caught me around the waist and hauled me back against his chest. His arms formed an iron cage around me, immobilizing me without hurting.

“Enough,” he growled, the sound vibrating through his chest and into mine. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

“Let me go!” I thrashed against his hold, but it was like fighting a brick wall. At five foot six to his towering six-foot-four frame, I was completely overpowered. My slender artist’s build was no match for the solid mass of muscle that made up Cade Sinclair.

“Never again,” he said, his mouth against my ear, his massive arms easily encircling my entire torso. “We let you go once. We won’t make that mistake twice.”

His breath on my skin sent shivers down my spine, and I hated how my body melted against him, responding to his dominance despite my mind’s protests.

The sheer size difference between us made resistance futile, but I fought it anyway, fought the instinct to submit, to bare my throat, to accept what he was offering.

“I hate you,” I whispered, the words lacking any real conviction.

“No, you don’t,” Cade said, his voice gentling as he adjusted his hold, cradling me against him rather than restraining. “You’re afraid. There’s a difference.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” I lied.

“Not of us,” he corrected. “Of what’s between us. Of what you feel when we’re near.”

His hand stroked down my arm, soothing, possessive. Against my will, I relaxed into his embrace, my head falling back against his shoulder. His scent surrounded me, familiar and comforting despite everything.

“That’s it,” he murmured, approval rumbling in his chest. “Let go, little fox.”

“Don’t call me that,” I protested weakly.

“Why not? It’s what you are.” His lips brushed my temple, so lightly I might have imagined it. “Our beautiful fox. So clever at hiding, so quick to run. But we’ve got you now.”

Logan’s eyes met mine in the rearview mirror, dark with the same hunger I saw in Cade’s. “And we’re never letting you go again.”

The certainty in their voices should have terrified me. Instead, something deep inside—something I’d been denying for years—unfurled with a purr of satisfaction.

I closed my eyes, fighting the traitorous thoughts. “This isn’t over.”

“No,” Cade agreed, his arms tightening around me. “It’s just beginning.”

As the SUV carried us out of Seattle, I realized we were heading toward the interstate—not toward my apartment.

“Wait,” I said, pushing against Cade’s chest. “My stuff—my paintings, my supplies?—”

“Already taken care of,” Cade replied, his arms still firmly around me.

“What does that mean?” I twisted to look at him. “You can’t just leave all my work!”

Logan’s eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. “Keir’s at your apartment now. He’s packing everything.”

“Keir is in my—” I sputtered. “You broke into my apartment?”

“We have a key,” Cade said simply.

“A key? How do you have a key to my—” I stopped, the implications sinking in. “You’ve been in my apartment before. While I wasn’t there.”

Neither of them denied it.

“That’s a violation of—of everything!” I renewed my struggles, shoving against Cade’s chest. “Turn around. Now. I need to make sure he doesn’t damage anything.”

“Keir knows how to handle art,” Cade said, his grip tightening. “He’s being careful with your work.”

“That’s not the point!” I was shouting now, beyond caring how it looked. “You don’t get to decide what happens to my things! My life! Let me go!”

“No,” Cade said, the single word filled with alpha command.

I felt it like a physical force, pressing against my will, but this time anger gave me strength to resist. “I said, let. Me. GO!”

With a surge of adrenaline, I twisted out of his grip and lunged for the door handle. The SUV was moving, but I didn’t care—I’d rather risk the pavement than go back to being controlled.

Cade moved with supernatural speed, grabbing me around the waist and hauling me back. This time, there was nothing gentle about his restraint. He pinned me against the seat, one hand capturing both my wrists, the other gripping my jaw to force me to look at him.

“Enough,” he growled, eyes flashing silver—the wolf close to the surface. “You could have been hurt.”

“I don’t care,” I spat, struggling against his hold. “I’d rather jump out of a moving car than go back to being your pet project.”

Something dangerous flashed in his eyes. “Is that what you think you were to us? A project?”

“What else? The charity case you took in? The odd one out who couldn’t shift, couldn’t hunt, couldn’t be part of the pack?

” The words poured out, years of buried resentment finally finding voice.

“Poor little Finn, needs to be protected and managed and controlled because he can’t possibly make his own decisions. ”

“You have no idea,” Cade said, his voice dropping to a dangerous rumble, “what you are to us.”

A growl tore from his throat—pure predator, barely human—as he lunged forward. One hand gripped my jaw while the other fisted in my hair, yanking my head back as he claimed my mouth with bruising intensity. I tasted the wildness of him, felt the scrape of elongated canines against my lower lip.

I shoved against his chest, palms flat against the solid wall of muscle. “No—” The word died as his tongue invaded my mouth, demanding surrender.

For three desperate seconds, I fought him—fought the overwhelming tide of sensation, fought the rightness that terrified me to my core. Then something inside me shattered. A dam breaking, a wall crumbling, years of denial washing away in the flood.

My hands, which had been pushing him away, suddenly clutched at his shirt, pulling him closer. A sound escaped me—half sob, half surrender—as my body betrayed every defense I’d built.

Heat exploded through me, a wildfire racing from my lips to every extremity. His scent—cedar and rain and alpha male—filled my lungs, drowning me in need and recognition. His grip tightened, possessive and unyielding, as if daring me to pull away again.

I couldn’t. God help me, I couldn’t.

His tongue swept into my mouth, tasting, claiming, and I welcomed him with a hunger that shocked me with its intensity.

The kiss was everything I’d been running from—demanding, primal, perfect.

His teeth caught my lower lip, biting just hard enough to remind me who was in control before his tongue soothed the sting.

I moaned into his mouth, a sound of surrender I couldn’t hold back. His wolf responded with a rumbling purr of satisfaction that vibrated through his chest and into mine.

The sensation catapulted me back to that day on the beach four years ago. It wasn’t just a tentative kiss then—it had been so much more.

The memory flooded back with visceral clarity: Cade’s hands sliding under my shirt, his mouth hot against my neck, my body arching against his. Logan and Keir finding us, their eyes flaring with hunger. Three pairs of hands, three mouths, three powerful bodies surrounding me.

“Ours,” they’d whispered as they touched me, each caress igniting fire under my skin.

I’d surrendered completely that day—and many more times after—letting them bring me to heights I’d never imagined possible.

Their hands and mouths had claimed every inch of me, drawing sounds I didn’t know I could make, leaving me trembling and marked.

I’d run when I got the chance, unable to face what it meant.

Unable to bear the thought that it was just biology to them—an inconvenient mate bond they hadn’t asked for.

I’d heard them talking later, when they thought I couldn’t hear.

Logan’s voice, irritated: “How can it be him? He’s just a kid, a bratty little fox who can barely control his shift.

” Keir’s response, resigned: “Fate has a twisted sense of humor.” And Cade, always the responsible one: “We have a duty to him.”

A duty. Not desire. Not love. Just obligation.

Cade’s hand slid under my shirt now, palm scorching against my skin, fingers digging into my lower back as he pulled me impossibly closer.

His other hand maintained its grip in my hair, controlling the angle of the kiss, demanding complete submission.

I gave it to him, melting against the hard planes of his body like I belonged there.

I’d been in love with them for as long as I could remember—all three of them, in different ways.

Cade with his quiet strength. Logan with his fierce protectiveness.

Keir with his playful charm. I’d spent years telling myself it was just admiration, just family affection, just anything but what it really was.

Love. Desperate, hopeless, forbidden love.

When he finally broke the kiss, I was breathing hard. His eyes had shifted to silver, the wolf perilously close to the surface. I stared at him in shock, lips stinging, body humming with a need I’d spent years denying.

“That,” he said roughly, voice barely human, “is what you are to us. Not a project. Not a charity case. Ours.”

I couldn’t speak, couldn’t think past the thundering of my heart and the lingering taste of him on my lips. His hand was still under my shirt, possessive against my skin, the heat of it branding me.

“Now,” he continued, thumb brushing over my lower lip where his teeth had been moments before, “are you going to behave, or do I need to restrain you for the rest of the drive?”

The question should have outraged me. Instead, it sent a jolt of heat straight to my core. I hated my reaction, hated how my body betrayed me, hated how much I wanted him to kiss me again.

But I also hated the thought that this was just biology to them—an inconvenient mate bond they felt obligated to fulfill. I couldn’t bear to be just a responsibility, just a duty, just the fox they were stuck with because fate had a twisted sense of humor.

“I’ll behave,” I whispered, the fight temporarily drained from me.

“Good boy,” he murmured, the praise settling warm in my chest despite my best efforts to resist it.

He shifted me in his arms, arranging me so I was sitting across his lap, my head tucked under his chin. It was a position that should have felt childish or demeaning but instead felt disturbingly right. His heartbeat thudded strong and steady against my ear, his arms secure around me.

Logan’s eyes met mine in the mirror again, dark with the same hunger I’d seen in Cade’s. “That’s more like it.”

“Don’t get used to it,” I muttered, but there was no real heat in my words. I was too shaken by what had just happened, by my own reaction.

Cade’s chuckle rumbled through his chest. “We’ll see.”

As the city fell away behind us, replaced by the evergreen forests that lined the highway to the coast, I tried to gather my scattered thoughts. That kiss had changed everything and nothing. It confirmed what I’d been running from—the undeniable pull between us.