Page 39 of Captivated By Alphas 1, Fated (The Blood Moon Chronicle #4)

Cole’s panther roared approval at Eli’s sharp tongue.

No meek prey, but a worthy mate with fire of his own.

His arm tightened around Eli’s waist, hand splaying possessively across his back, fingers dipping beneath his shirt hem to touch bare skin.

The contact was electric, that small patch more intoxicating than any touch before.

“Family business,” Cole said to Michael, subtle emphasis on ‘family’ not lost on the other alpha, whose jaw tightened at the implied claim.

“Of course.” Michael’s smile didn’t reach his eyes, which had hardened to ice chips. “The Carmichaels are certainly… protective of their household. Even the staff’s children seem to warrant special attention.”

“If that’s supposed to be an insult, you might want to workshop it,” Eli replied. “It’s landing somewhere between ‘vaguely puzzling’ and ‘desperately reaching.’”

Cole barely contained his laugh. His panther was practically preening at their mate’s fearless sass, perfect balance of intelligence and defiance. Even in this artificial scenario, their connection felt undeniably right.

“The Carmichaels value loyalty,” Cole replied, tone conveying generations of alpha authority. “Something I believe our families have in common.”

Michael inclined his head slightly, recognizing the warning beneath the civilized exchange. “Indeed. Well, I won’t keep you from your… family business.” He turned to Eli, his smile not reaching his eyes. “Another time, perhaps.”

“Perhaps when hell freezes over,” Eli muttered, loud enough for both alphas to hear, the sweetness of his smile contrasting with the acid in his words. “Or maybe the fifth of never. I’ll check my calendar.”

They watched Michael collect his coffee and disappear into the storm, the bell jingling as he left. Cole’s panther tracked the rival’s departure with satisfaction, territorial instincts settling as the threat moved beyond their space.

The moment the door closed, Eli started pulling away, warmth disappearing like someone had turned off a heater. “Thanks for the save. Nothing says ‘Monday’ like being cornered by an alpha who thinks ‘no’ is decorative language.”

NO. Cole’s panther went insane as Eli tried creating distance.

His grip tightened without permission, holding Eli against him with authority that surprised them both.

Losing contact with his mate sent panic tearing through him—a completely foreign sensation for someone who controlled billion-dollar acquisitions without breaking a sweat.

“You know who I am?” The words came out rougher than intended, his voice betraying the beast clawing beneath his skin.

“Seriously?” Eli arched an eyebrow, looking pointedly at Cole’s hands still gripping his waist, then back up with that perfect mix of sass and amusement.

“Yes, I know who Cole Carmichael is. Your face is on half the tech magazines in my room, and unless there’s another six-foot-something tech mogul with cheekbones that could cut glass standing in this café, I’m pretty sure I’ve got the right guy. ”

Heat slammed through Cole at the admission. Eli had his pictures. Had been looking at him. His panther practically strutted beneath his skin, territorial satisfaction flooding his system. The knowledge that his mate had been thinking about him sent possessive pleasure racing through his veins.

Ours, his beast purred. He knows us. Wants us.

“For research purposes,” Eli added quickly, that gorgeous flush creeping up his neck contradicting his casual tone. “I’m studying design, and the Carmichael Tech aesthetic is… I’m babbling, aren’t I?”

“You are.” Cole found himself completely charmed instead of irritated. Usually rambling made him want to cut conversations short, but with Eli he wanted more. Wanted to hear that voice for hours. “And you still haven’t told me your name. Not properly.”

“Oh, so now we’re doing formal introductions? After I’ve already plastered myself against you like a second skin?” Eli rolled his eyes but stuck out his hand anyway. “Eli Harper. Tricia and Thomas’ son. I live on the estate.”

Cole took the offered hand but didn’t shake it. Instead, he turned it over slowly, thumb brushing across Eli’s inner wrist where his pulse hammered beneath pale skin. The touch wasn’t calculated—pure instinct demanding he mark, claim, feel the life beating under that perfect skin.

“Harper,” he repeated, voice dropping to gravel. “As in…?”

“The groundskeeper and housekeeper,” Eli managed, voice catching as Cole’s thumb kept tracing patterns on his wrist. The slight hitch betrayed everything his composed expression tried to hide. “I’m adopted. Have been for nine years.”

Cole inhaled deeply, cataloging every note of Eli’s scent.

But beneath that intoxicating winter-pure fragrance, his enhanced senses caught something that made his panther bristle with primal aggression.

His cousins’ scents. Jace’s sandalwood and cedar around Eli’s collar.

Adrian’s cardamom and rain clinging to his hair.

They touched our mate, his beast snarled, claws scraping his insides. OURS. Not theirs.

His thumb pressed harder against Eli’s pulse, deliberately rubbing his scent over his cousins’ traces. A son? How the hell had he missed this? His mind was already connecting dots—his cousins’ weird behavior, their scents on Eli, his own explosive reaction.

“You look surprised,” Eli said, though he wasn’t pulling his hand away. “I guess that’s fair—I’ve only been at the estate for five years, and you’ve been building your tech empire elsewhere.”

Something in his tone caught Cole’s attention. Curiosity mixed with assessment. His panther was fascinated by this beautiful creature who seemed to know all about him while remaining a complete mystery.

“Biggest mistake of my life,” Cole replied, thumb still working circles on Eli’s wrist, feeling that rapid pulse flutter like a trapped bird. He deliberately rubbed more of his scent onto Eli’s skin, needing to erase every trace of his cousins. “One I plan to fix. Thoroughly.”

The words came from somewhere primal, raw and honest in a way that would have horrified his business partners.

Eli’s scent spiked with arousal, that winter-pure base now laced with honey and heat.

“Wow, that was smooth. Do they teach that line in Billionaire Playboy 101, or did you come up with it yourself?” The sarcasm was pure defense mechanism.

“And you should let go of me now,” he added, though his scent screamed the opposite. “People are starting to stare.”

“Let them,” Cole growled, possessiveness flooding his voice.

His panther had never given a shit about public displays, but with Eli—with his cousins’ scents still on him—every restraint was crumbling.

The need to claim, to show everyone this extraordinary creature belonged to him, burned through his blood. “I want them to see.”

Eli’s eyes went wide at the heat in Cole’s gaze. “Are you always this… intense with people you’ve just met, or am I getting the special treatment?”

“What do you think?” Cole finally released Eli’s wrist but stayed close enough that their bodies still brushed with every breath. His panther tracked every point of contact, savoring each touch, each chance to replace his cousins’ scents with his own.

“I think,” Eli said, stepping back with obvious reluctance, his body swaying toward Cole even as he created distance, “that I should get those pastries before Madi sends out a search party. She’s expecting them for tea.”

“I’ll drive you back.” The words came out as a statement, not a question.

The thought of Eli driving alone in this storm sent his protective instincts into overdrive, but more than that—his panther couldn’t bear letting their mate out of their sight.

Not when they’d just found him. Not when his cousins’ scents still clung to his skin.

“I have my own car,” Eli protested weakly.

“In this storm?” Cole raised an eyebrow, his panther already rejecting the possibility completely. “Visibility’s near zero. Your car stays here.” And you stay with me.

“My hero,” Eli deadpanned, pressing a hand to his heart. “Rescuing me from both unwanted suitors and precipitation in one day. How will I ever repay you?”

The challenge sent heat straight to Cole’s core.

His panther loved the sass, the defiance, the playful sparring that was so different from the ass-kissing he usually got.

“I’m sure we can think of something,” he replied, voice dropping to a register that made Eli’s breath catch. “I have several ideas already.”

“Are you flirting with me, Mr. Carmichael?” Eli asked, breathless despite trying to sound casual.

“Smart man,” Cole replied, enjoying the way Eli’s cheeks flushed despite the comeback. “Is it working?”

“I’ll let you know after I’ve collected more data,” Eli shot back, turning toward the counter with that graceful movement that drew Cole’s eye to the elegant line of his back, the subtle sway of his hips. “Let me get those pastries, and you can escort me safely through the terrifying rain.”

Cole watched Eli move, his panther tracking every step with predatory focus. The young man moved like liquid silk—each step precise yet fluid, each gesture economic yet expressive. His slender frame was deceptively strong, lean muscle definition visible beneath his rain-dampened shirt.

When Eli returned with the bakery box, Cole took it without asking, his free hand settling at the small of Eli’s back as he guided him toward the door.

The possessive gesture wasn’t courtesy—it was claiming, fingers splayed wide to cover as much territory as possible, to overlay his scent where his cousins’ might linger.

“I can carry my own pastries, you know,” Eli commented, though he made no move to reclaim the box. “I’ve been successfully transporting baked goods for years without superhero assistance.”