Page 21 of Captivated By Alphas 1, Fated (The Blood Moon Chronicle #4)

Iwoke up with my heart pounding, the memory of yesterday’s bathroom encounter with Jace Carmichael still playing on repeat in my brain like some mortifying highlight reel.

My first instinct was to pull the covers over my head and declare a personal mental health day, but the universe had other plans—specifically, my phone buzzing with my mother’s ringtone.

“Please tell me you’re awake,” Mom said without preamble. “Madi needs extra hands for lunch service.”

I groaned, staring at my ceiling where Jace’s Night Hunter poster gazed back at me.

Post-mortifying-encounter, I probably should have taken it down, but apparently my embarrassment kink was stronger than my dignity.

Or maybe I just enjoyed torturing myself with reminders of impossibly gorgeous men who’d seen me half-naked.

“I’m awake in the technical sense,” I replied, dragging myself upright. “As in, my eyes are open and I’m capable of speech. Whether I’m functional is debatable.”

“You have thirty minutes,” Mom said, her tone brooking no argument. “Madi specifically asked for you.”

Great. Just great. Not only would I have to face the mansion where Jace Carmichael had seen me half-naked and dripping wet, but I’d been specifically requested.

Probably so everyone could have front-row seats to my ongoing humiliation.

Maybe they’d even sell tickets. “Watch the housekeeper’s son die of embarrassment: Now in IMAX! ”

“Fine.” I sighed. “But if Jace Carmichael is there, I’m claiming sudden onset plague.”

“Eliot James Harper.” Mom’s voice took on that warning tone that meant business. “Whatever happened between you two—”

“Nothing happened!” I protested too quickly, my voice reaching a pitch that probably only dogs could hear. “Why would you think something happened? Nothing. Happened.”

A pause. “I was going to say, whatever awkwardness you’re feeling about meeting one of the family for the first time, you need to be professional.”

“Right. Professional. Absolutely.” I nodded vigorously to no one. “Professionalism is my middle name. Well, actually it’s James, but you know what I mean.”

“Thirty minutes,” she repeated and hung up.

I stared at my phone, then back at Jace’s poster. “This is your fault,” I informed his perfectly chiseled jawline. “You and your… nakedness.”

Twenty-eight minutes later, I was power walking through the mansion’s side entrance, hoping to reach the kitchen without encountering any Carmichaels—particularly the tall, gorgeous one who’d seen me at my most mortified. The universe, continuing its streak of cosmic mockery, had other plans.

“Eli!”

I froze, recognizing Sheena’s voice instantly. Turning slowly, I plastered on my best “everything is completely normal” smile. “Morning, Sheena.”

She practically glided toward me in what I was sure were astronomically expensive shoes, her dark hair falling in perfect waves. “You look positively haunted this morning. Bad dreams?”

“Something like that,” I muttered. More like reality-based nightmares starring her naked brother.

She linked her arm through mine, steering me toward the main hall rather than the kitchen. “Come on, I want to show you the rest of those clothes I brought from Paris. We barely had time to go through them last night before Paul dragged you off for his gaming marathon.”

“Your mom needs me in the kitchen,” I protested weakly, trying to extract myself.

“Mom can wait five minutes,” Sheena waved dismissively. “Those designer pieces aren’t going to try themselves on, and I have at least three more outfits that would be perfect for you.”

My resistance crumbled, despite my fashion-related trauma from the previous evening. “Fine. Five minutes. But no more skinny jeans that I can’t breathe in.”

We were halfway up the grand staircase when I heard it, a deep voice that sent an immediate flush of heat through my entire body. Jace was coming down the hallway above, talking on his phone.

I froze, which made Sheena stumble slightly. “What’s wrong?” she asked, following my gaze. Her eyes lit up with mischievous understanding. “Ohhh, I see. Jace effect?”

“What? No! I just remembered I left my… phone… in my car,” I stammered, patting my pocket where my phone was very obviously visible.

“Uh-huh.” Sheena smirked, raising her voice deliberately. “Jace! Look who I found skulking around downstairs!”

I contemplated throwing myself over the railing. It was only a fifteen-foot drop. I’d probably just break an ankle. Or my neck, if I was lucky. Death by mortification seemed preferable to whatever was about to happen.

Jace turned, and the moment his eyes landed on me, something shifted in them, a flash of gold that disappeared so quickly I might have imagined it. His lips curved into that devastatingly perfect half smile that had launched a thousand fan accounts.

“Eli,” he said, my name sounding impossibly different in his deep voice. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” I managed, my voice embarrassingly higher than usual. “I was just… Sheena was… I should really get to the kitchen.”

Jace pocketed his phone, his eyes never leaving mine. “Don’t let me interrupt.”

“You’re not interrupting,” Sheena said, her grip on my arm tightening as I tried to escape. “Eli was just coming to try on more of the clothes I brought him from Paris. You should see him in the pieces we picked out last night; he’s a natural model.”

“Was I?” I muttered. “Because I’m pretty sure I was having a stress-induced hallucination that I’ll be waking up from any moment now.”

Jace’s smile widened, and I noticed he was moving closer, descending the stairs with a predatory grace that made my heart race. “I’d be interested to see that. If you don’t mind the company.”

“The more the merrier!” Sheena declared, while I shot her a look that clearly communicated I will end you.

Somehow, I found myself being escorted to Sheena’s suite by not one but two Carmichaels, my escape plans thoroughly thwarted. Jace walked slightly behind us, and I could swear I felt his eyes on me the entire time, like a physical touch trailing down my spine.

Sheena’s suite was exactly what you’d expect from a fashion influencer with unlimited resources—a pristine white and gold aesthetic with carefully curated pops of color. Shopping bags from Paris boutiques were arranged artfully on her bed, far more than we’d gone through the night before.

Princess was curled up on a velvet pillow near the window, her tiny white form barely visible against the plush fabric. At our entrance, she lifted her head and, upon seeing me, immediately abandoned her comfortable spot to trot over and sit expectantly at my feet.

“Sit,” Sheena commanded, pointing to a velvet ottoman. “I’ll find those pieces we didn’t get to last night.”

I perched awkwardly on the edge, hyperaware of Jace leaning against the doorframe, watching me with those intense blue eyes. The silence stretched between us, filled with unspoken references to yesterday’s encounter.

“So,” I finally said, because apparently my mouth hates me, “fancy meeting you here. Fully clothed this time. Not that I was thinking about that. The clothes thing. Or lack thereof. I’m going to stop talking now.”

Jace’s lips twitched. “I was hoping we might run into each other today.”

“Were you?” My voice came out embarrassingly breathy. Get it together, Eli. He’s just a man. An absurdly attractive, panther-shifting, movie-star man who’s seen you naked, but still just a man.

“Found them!” Sheena declared, emerging from her closet with an armful of designer clothes. “The pieces I promised, including that cashmere sweater that will bring out your eyes perfectly.”

She dumped the clothes on the bed, then glanced between Jace and me with poorly disguised interest. “Am I interrupting something?”

“No,” I said, just as Jace said, “Yes.”

Sheena’s perfectly shaped eyebrows rose nearly to her hairline. “Well, this is interesting.”

“It’s really not,” I insisted, eyeing the pile of expensive clothes with trepidation. “Just me being my usual awkward self. And now I really should get to the kitchen before your mom sends out a search party.”

“I’ll walk you,” Jace offered immediately.

“That’s not—”

“Excellent idea,” Sheena interrupted, practically shoving us toward the door. “We can continue our fashion consultation later. Eli, we’ll catch up after lunch. I want to hear all about what I missed while I was gone. All about it.”

The emphasis wasn’t subtle, and I shot her a glare as she practically winked at me. Great. Now Sheena thought something was happening between me and Jace Carmichael. Which it absolutely wasn’t. No matter what my traitorously racing heart seemed to think.

Jace and I walked in silence down the hallway, the tension between us thick enough to cut with a knife. I crossed my arms over my chest, trying desperately to think of something—anything—to say that wouldn’t reference our naked encounter.

“So…” Jace finally broke the silence. “You’re an artist.”

“Graphic design student,” I corrected, grateful for the neutral topic. “Second year at Ravenswood College. Sheena’s been my unofficial fashion consultant since she found out I could draw.”

“I’d like to see your work sometime,” he said, and it didn’t sound like empty politeness.

“It’s nothing special,” I demurred, though secretly I was pleased by his interest. “Just assignments and practice pieces mostly.”

“I doubt anything you create is ‘nothing special,’” Jace replied, his voice dropping to that lower register that made my stomach do somersaults.

We were approaching the main staircase when Jace suddenly stopped, turning to face me. “About yesterday—”

“Can we please pretend it never happened?” I interrupted, heat flooding my cheeks. “For the sake of my remaining dignity?”

Jace studied me for a moment, his expression unreadable. “Is that what you want? To forget it?”