Page 13 of Captivated By Alphas 1, Fated (The Blood Moon Chronicle #4)

“Plans change, Mother dear,” Sheena declared, air-kissing Madi’s cheeks. “The Desrosiers show was a disaster—absolute creative bankruptcy—so I decided to spare myself the pain and come home early.” She spotted Jace on the stairs and her face lit up. “Jace! My favorite brother!”

“Don’t let Paul and David hear you say that,” Jace replied, descending to embrace his sister. “They might start demanding equal billing in your social media captions.”

“Oh please, they know.” She laughed, returning his hug before holding him at arm’s length for inspection. “Looking criminally handsome as always. How do you manage it? It’s offensive, really. Your skin shouldn’t be allowed to look that good after eighteen hours of travel.”

“Good genes.” Jace shrugged, helping her with her designer luggage.

“Speaking of offensive handsomeness,” Sheena continued, lowering her voice conspiratorially, “have you met Tricia’s son yet?

That boy is going to break hearts by the dozen when he grows up.

Those eyes! That bone structure! It’s wasted on someone who doesn’t even care about fashion.

I’ve been trying to dress him properly for years, but he insists on hiding behind hoodies like he’s allergic to tailoring. ”

Jace’s panther surged forward at the mention of Eli, a possessive growl building in his chest that he barely managed to suppress.

The thought of his sister noticing Eli’s beauty—which was his to appreciate—sent a wave of territorial instinct through him that nearly made his eyes shift.

The beast within him bristled at the idea of anyone else acknowledging what belonged to him alone.

MINE, his panther snarled. No one else gets to notice. No one else gets to want.

“We’ve met,” he said, striving for neutrality, though he couldn’t prevent a slight edge from creeping into his tone.

Sheena’s perfectly sculpted eyebrows rose, her expression shifting to one of keen interest. She’d always been too perceptive for comfort. “Oh? When?”

“This afternoon. Caught him stealing strawberries from the garden.” The lie came easily, far preferable to explaining their actual meeting.

His panther snarled at the deception, wanting to claim Eli openly, but Jace maintained control.

Some truths weren’t meant for public consumption, especially when they involved meeting one’s mate while mutually half-naked.

Sheena laughed delightedly. “That sounds like Eli. He’s been raiding the fruit patches since he moved in. Mom pretends not to notice, but I think she secretly finds it charming. He’s like a woodland creature that wandered in and decided to stay.”

“You seem to know him well,” Jace said, keeping his tone casual while his panther paced restlessly beneath his skin.

How much time had his sister spent with Eli?

Why hadn’t he known about the boy until today?

The thought of others having connections to his mate that he lacked made his panther snarl with possessive frustration.

Should have been here, his beast growled. Should have claimed him sooner. Too much time wasted.

“Of course! He’s been living here for years, Jace.

He’s practically part of the family.” She linked her arm through his as they moved toward the great room.

“David teaches him chess, Paul tries to get him interested in sports, and I’ve been attempting to improve his fashion sense with limited success.

That boy could be a model if he weren’t so determined to hide behind hoodies and baggy jeans. ”

Each casual revelation about his siblings’ relationship with Eli sent another spike of territorial instinct through Jace.

His panther didn’t like the idea of others—even family—having connections to their mate that Jace himself lacked.

The thought of his brothers—particularly Paul—being close to Eli stirred something primitive in his chest. A need to establish himself in Eli’s life, to carve out a place that was uniquely his.

Take back lost time, his panther demanded. Show mate who’s most important. Make him forget others.

“Sheena!” David called from the great room. “You’re back early! Did the fashion world finally exhaust even your capacity for air-kisses?”

The reunion with his siblings momentarily distracted Jace from his thoughts.

The Carmichaels had always been a tactile family—hugs, playful shoves, and casual physical contact were their normal.

It was something humans often remarked on, unaware it stemmed from their panther nature rather than just familial closeness.

Pack bonds required physical reinforcement, something their human personas had adapted into socially acceptable forms.

“Is that Sheena I hear?” George Carmichael’s deep voice preceded him as he emerged from his study, looking every inch the powerful alpha in his bespoke suit. “What a pleasant surprise, princess. I thought Paris had claimed you until next week.”

More greetings and explanations followed, the family naturally gravitating toward the formal living room where pre-dinner drinks were being served.

Jace accepted a scotch from a silver tray, noting the additional place settings being hastily arranged in the dining room beyond.

The staff moved with practiced efficiency, adjusting to the unexpected changes with the smooth competence of those accustomed to the Carmichael family’s impromptu gatherings.

“We have guests tonight. The Huntington alphas,” Madi said, appearing at his elbow with the practiced stealth that had made her a legendary hostess. “Your father’s been in boundary discussions with them all day.”

Jace barely suppressed an eye roll. The Huntingtons. Of course. Because what his homecoming really needed was a territorial pissing contest disguised as fine dining.

“Let me guess,” he drawled, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “Richard wants to expand his hunting grounds, and we’re supposed to pretend it’s about conservation easements and sustainable development.”

Madi’s lips twitched. “Politics requires a certain… creative interpretation of reality.”

“Hollywood’s taught me that much,” Jace replied. “Though we call it ‘alternative facts’ when the studio needs to explain why their lead actor was ‘exhausted’ rather than hungover at the press junket.”

“Michael’s accompanying them,” Madi added, straightening his already perfect collar with maternal precision. “He’s taken over their art foundation since returning from Europe.”

Michael Huntington. Perfect. His panther bristled at the mere mention, hackles rising at the thought of another unmated alpha in their territory.

The Huntington heir had once told Variety that Jace’s breakthrough role had “all the artistic subtlety of a monster truck rally.” They’d maintained a carefully curated public rivalry ever since, though the cameras never captured the true predatory nature of their mutual dislike.

Threat, his panther growled. Rival alpha. Not welcome here. Not near our mate.

“I’ll try to contain my excitement,” Jace said dryly. “Should I have my publicist prepare a statement about how thrilled I am to reconnect with my childhood friend?”

“Just try not to break any furniture this time,” Madi replied, patting his cheek. “The Louis XVI chairs are antiques.”

“That was fifteen years ago, and he started it,” Jace muttered, though his lips curved into a reluctant smile. His mother had always known how to defuse his temper with precisely calibrated doses of humor and guilt.

The doorbell’s chime cut through their banter, its elegant tone triggering an immediate shift in the room’s energy.

Staff moved with practiced precision while the family instinctively arranged themselves in formation—George and Madi at the center, Jace at his father’s right hand as heir apparent.

His panther approved of the display, a primal satisfaction in showing strength through unity.

Tricia opened the massive oak doors with a flourish that would have impressed the most demanding Broadway director. The Huntingtons stood framed in the entryway like the cover of Supernatural Vogue, if such a publication existed.

Richard and Elaine were predictably impeccable—silver-streaked power couple with the polished veneer of old money.

But it was Michael who caught Jace’s attention, standing slightly apart in a midnight blue suit.

His golden-brown hair was styled in that carefully disheveled way that required an hour with a professional, his smile practiced to perfection.

Jace’s panther immediately cataloged him as a threat—not to territory, but to something far more personal.

The beast recognized another unmated alpha entering their domain, and it didn’t like it one bit.

His nostrils flared subtly, picking up the other alpha’s scent—expensive cologne barely masking the natural musk of a rival predator.

Dangerous, his panther assessed. Unmated. Hunting. Not in our territory. NOT near our mate.

“George,” Richard greeted, stepping forward to clasp forearms with Jace’s father in the traditional greeting that predated handshakes by several millennia. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

“Our pleasure,” George replied with diplomatic precision. “The Carmichaels always welcome our southern allies.”

Michael stepped forward next, his eyes meeting Jace’s with a flash of assessment that reminded him of studio executives trying to determine his box office value.

“Jace,” he said, extending his hand. “Hollywood agrees with you. Though I imagine it’s easy to maintain that physique when half your movies require you to be shirtless for the marketing materials. ”

Jace’s grip tightened just enough to make the other alpha’s eyes narrow slightly, bones grinding together in a display of strength that human eyes would miss but another alpha would feel acutely.

His panther surged forward, wanting to crush the bones in Michael’s hand, to make the rival howl in submission.