Page 37 of Captivated By Alphas 1, Fated (The Blood Moon Chronicle #4)

“Perhaps you should be more careful what you wish for,” I murmured, surprising myself with my boldness. Where had that come from? Was I possessed? Had aliens replaced my normal awkward self with this suddenly flirtatious version? “You might get more than you bargained for.”

Something flashed in his eyes—surprise, then heat, then something darker that made my stomach drop like I’d just crested the top of a roller coaster.

His pupils expanded, nearly swallowing the green.

“I’m counting on it,” he replied, his voice dropping to that dangerous register that made me want to discover exactly what he was counting on, preferably in great detail.

I escaped to the kitchen as soon as possible, leaning against the wall and taking deep breaths like I’d just finished a marathon while being chased by bears.

What was happening? Had I stumbled into some alternate universe where Carmichael alphas competed for the attention of staff kids?

Was this some elaborate prank? A bet? Were they filming a reality show called Make the Staff Kid Blush Until He Spontaneously Combusts?

“Eli.” My mother’s voice cut through my spiraling thoughts. “The Harringtons are moving to the formal living room for after-dinner drinks. We need to clear the dining room.”

Right. Job. Responsibilities. I could have my existential crisis later. I’d pencil it in between laundry and my design project.

I gathered empty glasses onto a tray, deciding to take the shortcut through the terrace to the kitchen rather than navigating the now-crowded formal living room. The cool night air was a blessed relief against my heated skin, like diving into a pool after accidentally setting myself on fire.

“Running away again?”

I nearly dropped my tray at the sound of Adrian’s voice, which would have been just perfect.

Nothing says “professional staff member” like shattering crystal all over the terrace.

He stood by the stone balustrade, moonlight silvering his hair, his eyes gleaming with that strange gold I’d noticed at the lake.

The night breeze ruffled his perfectly styled hair, making him look like he was shooting a cologne commercial rather than lurking on terraces and startling innocent servers.

“I’m working,” I replied, lifting the tray slightly as evidence.

“Some of us don’t have the luxury of lounging around terraces looking dramatically backlit.

Though I have to say, your lighting choices are impeccable.

Very moody indie film. Are you auditioning for your next role, or is ‘Brooding by Moonlight’ just a hobby? ”

His lips curved into a smile. “You’re not what I expected, Eli Harper.”

“A disappointment, I’m sure,” I said dryly, moving to step past him. “If you’ll excuse me—”

“The opposite, actually.” His hand caught my arm, gentle but firm, stopping me in my tracks. The warmth of his touch seeped through my shirt, making my skin tingle like I’d stuck my finger in a light socket. A really pleasant light socket, if that’s even a thing.

I looked down at his hand, then back up at his face, one eyebrow raised.

“Is this the part where you tell me I’m ‘not like other boys’?

Because I should warn you, my cringe tolerance is already at capacity for the evening.

I’ve had to listen to Victoria Harrington laugh at jokes that weren’t funny for two hours.

That’s enough secondhand embarrassment for one night. ”

Adrian laughed, the sound rich and genuine in the quiet night. “See? Fascinating. Most people would be intimidated.”

“By what? Your social media following? The fact that your face is on billboards? Sorry to disappoint.”

“And yet you still have posters of my films in your room,” he countered, his smile turning smug.

I froze, horror washing over me in a cold wave. My soul briefly left my body to scream into the void. “How do you—”

“Sheena talks a lot,” he explained, looking far too pleased with himself. “Especially about her ‘fashion project’ who apparently has excellent taste in cinema.”

“They’re aesthetically interesting compositions,” I defended weakly, my voice climbing at least an octave. “I’m a graphic design student. I study visual media. The lighting in Midnight Confession was revolutionary.”

“Of course,” Adrian agreed, his tone making it clear he didn’t believe me for a second. “Purely academic interest.”

“I should get these to the kitchen,” I said, desperate to escape before I embarrassed myself further. At this rate, I’d have to change my name and move to Antarctica.

Adrian released my arm, but stepped closer, invading my personal space with deliberate intent. The scent of his cologne, something expensive and woodsy, wrapped around me, making my head spin slightly. There should be a law that made it illegal to smell that good.

“We’re not finished, you and me,” he said softly, his eyes shifting more gold than green in the moonlight. “What started at the lake… that was just the beginning.”

My heart hammered against my ribs like it was trying to escape and run away without me.

Traitor. “There is no ‘you and me,’” I managed, though my voice lacked conviction even to my own ears.

“There was an awkward encounter that we’re both going to forget about.

Like that time I walked in on Paul shifting and got an eyeful of panther junk before he fully transformed. We never speak of it.”

“Is that what you want?” he asked, his voice dropping to that dangerous register that made my brain cells commit mass suicide. “To forget?”

The honest answer was no. Despite my confusion, despite the surreal quality of the past forty-eight hours, the last thing I wanted was to forget the feeling of Adrian’s hands on my waist, his breath against my lips, the heat in his eyes when he looked at me.

But admitting that seemed dangerous somehow, like stepping off a cliff without knowing if you’d fly or splatter.

“What I want,” I said carefully, “is to understand what’s happening. Just the other day, Jace barely knew I existed. Today, you and he are both looking at me like… like…”

“Like what?” Adrian prompted when I faltered, his eyes intent on my face.

“Like I’m something to eat,” I finished, heat flooding my face at the admission.

Adrian’s smile turned predatory, sending a shiver down my spine that wasn’t entirely fear. Something darker, more primal flickered in his expression. “Perceptive,” he murmured. “But not quite accurate. We’re looking at you like you’re something to claim.”

The word “claim” hit me like a physical thing.

I didn’t fully understand what he meant, but my body apparently did, because every nerve ending suddenly went haywire.

It was both terrifying and weirdly exciting, which probably said something concerning about my psychological state.

Maybe I should have paid more attention in that Psych 101 elective.

“There you are.” Jace’s voice cut through the tension. “Mother’s looking for you, Adrian.”

Adrian’s expression shifted, the predatory intensity giving way to the polished charm I’d seen in interviews, the mask sliding back into place so smoothly it was almost disturbing.

Like watching someone put on a human costume.

“Duty calls,” he said with a sigh, stepping back.

“We’ll continue this conversation later, Eli. ”

It wasn’t a question. It was a promise.

As Adrian moved past Jace into the house, they did that weird silent communication thing that reminded me of when Sheena and Paul argue without words.

Whatever passed between them looked intense—like they were either planning to fight each other or team up against someone else.

Great. More alpha mysteries I wasn’t equipped to decode.

The moment Jace’s gaze locked on mine, my body went haywire again—spine straightening, breath catching, knees weakening.

It was like being hit by a tidal wave of pure authority.

"My head actually tilted back without my permission, exposing my throat like it was auditioning for Top Submissive Gesture. "

“You should be careful,” he said quietly, moving closer with that same predatory grace Adrian had displayed. Where Adrian was all artistic intensity, Jace was pure concentrated power, like someone had distilled authority into human form. “Adrian can be… intense.”

“And you can’t?” I countered, finding my voice despite the fact that my body was apparently staging a coup against my brain.

A slow smile spread across Jace’s face, transforming his features from merely handsome to devastating.

“I’m much worse,” he admitted, then suddenly moved forward, backing me against one of the stone columns.

The tray of empty glasses rattled precariously in my hands as he caged me with one arm braced beside my head.

His free hand came up to brush a strand of hair from my forehead, the simple contact sending electricity crackling down my spine.

“But I’m also more patient,” he murmured, his voice dropping to that dangerous register that made my insides turn to liquid. “Though my patience about our dinner has its limits, Eli.”

The reminder of this morning’s invitation sent a fresh wave of heat through my body. I struggled to keep the tray steady as his face lowered toward mine, his breath warm against my lips.

“You look absolutely exquisite tonight,” he whispered, his eyes darkening as they swept over me.

I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, could barely keep the tray from slipping from my trembling fingers. His proximity was overwhelming, his scent wrapping around me like an invisible claim.

“I—I’m working,” I managed, the words barely audible.

His lips curved into a predatory smile. “I’m already planning our evening together.” His voice was soft but left no room for refusal. “I know exactly where I’ll take you, what we’ll do… every detail.”

He pulled back slightly, though his eyes never left mine. “It’s not a question of if, Eli. Only when.” His gaze dropped deliberately to my lips. “And I always get what I want.”

With that, he followed Adrian inside, leaving me pressed against the column, heart racing and legs barely able to support me. The tray shook in my white-knuckled grip as I tried to remember how breathing worked.

I stayed there for several moments, staring up at the stars and wondering what I’d done in a previous life to deserve this beautiful chaos. Kicked puppies? Started wars? Invented reply-all email? It had to have been something truly terrible to warrant this level of cosmic payback.

It didn’t make sense. None of it made sense.

Two gorgeous celebrities suddenly acting like I was the most fascinating thing they’d ever seen?

Yeah, right. This had to be some elaborate prank, or I’d accidentally ingested hallucinogens.

Maybe Duncan had gotten experimental with the mushrooms in tonight’s risotto.

Yet, as I headed back to the kitchen with my tray of empty glasses, I couldn’t ignore the weird flutter in my stomach every time I thought about their eyes on me, their fingers brushing mine, their voices doing that deep, rumbly thing that made my knees forget how knees work.

Whatever was happening was definitely not normal and definitely not something I was equipped to handle.

My expertise extended to Photoshop layers and surviving awkward family dinners, not… whatever this was.

And the weirdest part? Despite all the panic and confusion, a tiny part of me—the part with absolutely zero survival instinct—kind of wanted to see what would happen next.

God, I was so screwed.