Page 18 of Captivated By Alphas 1, Fated (The Blood Moon Chronicle #4)

CARMICHAEL COUSINS

As the door closed behind them, Sheena sidled up beside Jace with a knowing smirk. “Well, that was interesting,” she murmured. “I’ve never seen you get territorial over someone before. Not even when that Brazilian model tried to steal your Vanity Fair cover.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jace replied, keeping his voice low while his panther preened at being caught defending their claim.

“Please,” Sheena scoffed, her perfectly manicured nails tapping against her champagne flute. “You practically bared your teeth when Michael showed interest in Eli. I thought we were going to have an actual alpha challenge right between the soup and salad courses. Subtle, brother. Very subtle.”

“You’re imagining things,” Jace countered, though they both knew it was a lie. “I just don’t like the Huntingtons getting too comfortable with our staff.”

“Mm-hmm,” Sheena hummed, clearly unconvinced. “And I suppose the way you tracked Eli’s every movement all evening was just… professional concern? The Hollywood Reporter would have a field day with this—‘Action Star Falls for Staff Member: Forbidden Romance or PR Stunt?’”

His panther bristled at the suggestion their interest was anything but genuine. Not stunt, it growled. True mate. Forever mate. OURS.

Before Jace could formulate a suitably cutting retort, his father called the family together for a post-dinner briefing, a tradition after diplomatic encounters with other supernatural groups.

As they gathered in George’s study, Jace cast one last glance toward the kitchen, where he could hear Eli’s voice mingling with the sounds of cleanup.

His panther strained toward that sound, wanting to abandon the meeting and seek out their mate instead.

Go to him, his beast urged. Meeting can wait. Mate more important.

The family debriefing was mercifully short. The Huntingtons had agreed to the proposed boundary adjustments, though George suspected their easy acquiescence might indicate interest in something beyond territory.

“Michael seemed particularly fascinated by Tricia’s son,” George noted with the careful neutrality of an alpha who missed nothing. “We should keep that in mind. The Huntingtons rarely show interest without purpose.”

Jace maintained his professional expression, though his panther bristled at the observation. The thought of Michael having any kind of agenda involving Eli made his blood run cold, his protective instincts surging to the forefront.

Protect mate, his beast snarled. Watch rival. Kill if necessary.

The meeting concluded with assignments for the upcoming full moon gathering and reminders about the extended family reunion beginning next week.

“That’s all for tonight,” George concluded. “Jace, a word before you go?”

The others filed out, Sheena shooting him a knowing smirk over her shoulder that promised future interrogation. When they were alone, George studied his son with a penetrating gaze.

“You were unusually protective tonight,” George said. “Something I should know?”

Jace considered deflection but decided against it. His father was too perceptive, and pack dynamics were too important for games. “My panther reacted to Eli,” he admitted. “Strongly.”

George’s eyebrows rose slightly, the only indication of his surprise.

“Recognition,” Jace clarified, watching his father’s expression carefully. “Immediate and intense.”

His panther paced anxiously as he revealed this truth, uncertain whether to be proud of their claim or defensive about sharing it, even with their alpha.

Mate is private, it insisted. Ours alone.

George nodded slowly, his face revealing nothing despite the significance of what Jace had just shared. “I see.”

The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken meaning. George took a deliberate sip of his scotch, his eyes never leaving Jace’s. There was something calculating in that gaze, something that suggested he was fitting new information into an existing puzzle.

“What are your intentions?” George asked finally, his tone neutral.

“I hardly know myself,” Jace replied honestly. “This wasn’t exactly planned.”

Claim him, his panther answered with no such uncertainty. Mark him. Make him ours forever.

George set his glass down with precision. “Eli is… important to this family.”

“I’m beginning to see that,” Jace acknowledged. “The way everyone protects him—”

“For good reason,” George interjected, his tone making it clear the subject wasn’t open for discussion. “Trust your instincts, Jace, but proceed with caution. Some things are more complex than they appear.”

With that cryptic observation, George effectively ended the conversation. Jace recognized the dismissal for what it was—his father had shared all he intended to, at least for now.

He knows something, his panther realized. Knows something about our mate that we don’t.

Jace left the study, his mind racing with questions about Eli’s mysterious background and his own unprecedented reaction.

His father’s carefully measured responses had only deepened his curiosity.

George knew more than he was saying—that much was obvious.

But pack politics had always operated on a need-to-know basis, and apparently, George had decided Jace didn’t need to know everything yet.

Instead of heading upstairs, Jace found himself drawn toward the kitchen.

He told himself he was just hungry for something sweet after the rich dinner, but his panther knew better.

The creature was practically purring at the prospect of seeing Eli again, of having him away from Michael Huntington’s predatory gaze.

Find mate, it urged. Scent him. Be near him.

The kitchen was still bustling with post-dinner cleanup.

Tricia directed two maids who were loading the dishwasher, and there, perched casually on a counter stool, was Eli, working his way through what appeared to be a belated dinner.

The sight of him—relaxed, unguarded, no longer performing for a room full of alphas—made something in Jace’s chest tighten with possessive pleasure.

Beautiful, his panther purred. Ours. Perfect.

His beast drank in the sight greedily—Eli’s platinum hair slightly mussed after hours of service, his tie loosened and collar unbuttoned, his guard down in a way it hadn’t been all evening.

This was their mate in his natural state, not performing for others, and Jace’s panther found it infinitely more appealing than the polished server who had circulated among the guests.

“Mr. Jace,” Tricia greeted, looking up from her task. “Did you need something?”

“Just thought I’d grab some dessert,” he replied smoothly, his eyes drawn to Eli who was currently focused on cutting a piece of roast beef. “I see I’m not the only one with that idea.”

Eli glanced up, a flash of surprise crossing his features before he composed himself. “Staff eats after service,” he explained, gesturing to his plate. “One of the perks of growing up in a pack household—guaranteed leftovers from fancy dinners.”

Jace moved closer, leaning against the counter beside Eli’s stool.

His panther practically purred at the proximity, drinking in their mate’s scent without the interference of other people’s colognes and perfumes.

Up close, Eli smelled even better—that winter purity now warmed by the kitchen’s heat, mingled with subtle notes of contentment and fatigue.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked, deliberately positioning himself within Eli’s personal space, close enough that their arms would brush if either moved.

“Free country,” Eli shrugged, though the slight uptick at the corner of his mouth suggested he wasn’t displeased by the company. “Though I thought alphas usually retreated to their lairs after diplomatic posturing to lick their wounded egos in private.”

Jace’s panther perked up at the sass, pleased by this glimpse of their mate’s true personality. The beast much preferred this bold, unguarded version to the carefully polite server who had circulated among the dinner guests.

Brave mate, it approved. Strong mate. Perfect for us.

Tricia shot her son a warning look. “Eli, mind your manners with Mr. Jace.”

“What?” Eli raised his hands innocently. “He knows I’m kidding. Don’t you, Mr. Hollywood?”

“Mr. Hollywood?” Jace repeated, amused by the nickname. “Is that what you call me behind my back?”

“Only when ‘The Guy Whose Face Is on My Shower Curtain’ feels too formal,” Eli replied with a straight face, before his eyes widened in mock horror. “I mean—that’s not—I don’t actually have—”

Jace laughed, genuinely delighted by Eli’s mortified expression. The sound erupted from deep in his chest, startling even him with its authenticity. Hollywood had trained him to laugh on cue, to display precisely calibrated amusement, but this was real—unplanned and unfiltered.

His panther preened at the knowledge that their mate was a fan, that Eli had noticed him long before today’s recognition. The beast took it as further confirmation of their perfect compatibility.

Already wanted us, it purred with satisfaction. Already saw us. Knew we were special.

“Relax. Though I’m flattered to know I’ve made it to bathroom decor status. Usually, you have to win at least three Oscars for that honor.”

“I didn’t—that’s not—” Eli sputtered, his cheeks flushing that delicious pink that made Jace’s panther purr with satisfaction.

The scent of his embarrassment—sweet and sharp beneath the winter purity—was intoxicating, making Jace want to lean closer, to inhale deeply and memorize every nuance of his mate’s emotional responses.

Beautiful when flustered, his panther observed, cataloging this reaction for future reference. Want to see more. Want to cause more.

“Too late.” Jace grinned, accepting the slice of strawberry tart Tricia placed in front of him. “I’m picturing it now. Is it from Night Hunter? The shower scene where I’m—”