Page 44 of Captivated By Alphas 1, Fated (The Blood Moon Chronicle #4)

As everyone moved toward the entertainment room, I was surrounded by three tall, imposing figures.

Jace, Adrian, and Cole had somehow maneuvered themselves to form a loose circle around me, not quite touching but definitely invading my personal space.

It was like being surrounded by living walls of expensive cologne and barely contained intensity.

“You’re looking a little overwhelmed,” Adrian said, his voice pitched low enough that only I (and presumably his cousins) could hear.

“I’m fine,” I lied, my voice embarrassingly breathy. “Just… processing.”

“Processing what?” Cole asked, his gray eyes intent on my face.

What was I supposed to say? That having all three of them in the same room was short-circuiting my brain?

That I’d spent years crushing on them from afar, and now they were all suddenly paying attention to me?

That I couldn’t decide if I was in a dream or a nightmare and wasn’t entirely sure which I preferred?

“Nothing important,” I deflected. “Just wondering if Paul’s ego can survive the crushing defeat I’m about to deliver. It’ll be like watching the Titanic hit the iceberg, except the iceberg is my superior gaming skills and the Titanic is his overinflated self-confidence.”

Jace’s lips quirked in the ghost of a smile. “You’re deflecting.”

“And you’re observant,” I countered. “Gold star for you. Would you like a certificate to commemorate this momentous insight, or is verbal acknowledgment sufficient?”

I slipped between Jace and Adrian, heading for the entertainment room before I could say something truly embarrassing. Behind me, I heard Adrian’s low chuckle and Cole murmuring something I couldn’t quite catch, followed by Jace’s deeper rumble of agreement.

The entertainment room was less a room and more an indoor entertainment complex.

One wall was dominated by a screen that would make IMAX jealous, surrounded by the kind of sound system that could probably communicate with alien civilizations.

Plush sectionals formed a semicircle around the screen, while the back of the room housed a pool table, a fully stocked bar, and various gaming stations.

Paul was already setting up Mario Kart, waving a controller at me imperiously. “Prepare to eat my dust, Harper.”

“Pretty sure that’s not how Mario Kart works,” I replied, dropping onto the sectional beside him. “But nice try. A for effort, F for accuracy.”

For the next hour, I lost myself in the familiar rhythm of the game and Paul’s good-natured trash talk. It was almost enough to make me forget the three pairs of eyes I could feel watching my every move. Almost, but not quite.

Jace had settled in an armchair with a script, making notes in the margins with focused intensity.

Every few minutes, his gaze would lift to track my movements, lingering whenever I laughed or shifted position.

Each time our eyes met, heat would coil in my stomach, and I’d quickly look away, pretending to be absorbed in the game.

Adrian sprawled on the opposite end of the sectional, sketchbook in hand.

Unlike Jace, he made no attempt to hide his interest, openly watching me with a half smile that made my cheeks burn.

Occasionally, he’d shift position, his knee or shoulder brushing against mine “accidentally,” each brief contact sending sparks across my skin.

Cole sat at the bar with his laptop, ostensibly working but his attention was clearly elsewhere.

His gray eyes burned into me whenever I laughed or moved, hot enough to brand—it was pure, primal hunger barely contained behind a civilized facade.

Whenever Paul’s casual roughhousing got too physical, Cole’s expression would darken dangerously, a muscle ticking in his jaw as his fingers tightened on his keyboard until I heard the faint protest of plastic.

Sheena noticed, of course. She perched on the arm of Adrian’s chair at one point, whispering something that made him narrow his eyes at her. David and Madi played a quiet game of chess in the corner, while George excused himself to take a business call.

As the night wore on, the storm showed no signs of abating. Sheena yawned dramatically around ten and announced she was going to bed. Madi followed soon after. My mother had retired to the staff quarters hours ago, exhausted from the long day and the stress of the storm.

“One more race,” Paul insisted for the dozenth time. “I’m going to beat your record.”

“You’ve been saying that for the last hour,” I pointed out, fighting a yawn. “Face it, Carmichael. You’re outclassed.”

“Rematch tomorrow,” he grumbled, finally conceding defeat. “When my reflexes aren’t compromised by Duncan’s wine.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” I grinned. “I’ll be sure to request a participation trophy for you. ‘Good effort, better luck next century.’”

I didn’t realize how tired I was until I felt my eyelids growing heavy.

The combination of adrenaline crashes and emotional overload was finally catching up with me.

Paul and David continued playing, their competitive banter becoming a soothing background noise as I curled into the corner of the sectional.

“Just resting my eyes for a minute,” I mumbled, pulling one of the decorative pillows under my head.

The last thing I remembered was Jace’s voice, low and gentle, saying something about letting me rest, and the sensation of something soft being draped over me. As consciousness slipped away, I thought I felt the lightest touch against my hair, but I was too far gone to be certain.

I woke to darkness and confusion, momentarily disoriented by unfamiliar surroundings. A soft blanket had been draped over me, and the entertainment room was dimly lit by a single lamp. I blinked, trying to piece together where I was and why.

As my eyes adjusted, I realized I wasn’t alone.

Three figures occupied the room, positioned like sentinels around the sectional where I lay.

Jace sat in the same armchair as before, reading by the light of his phone.

Adrian had moved to the floor near my head, his back against the sectional, sketchbook still open on his lap.

Cole remained at the bar, the blue glow of his laptop illuminating his sharp features.

All three looked up the moment I stirred, with a synchronicity that was frankly unnerving.

“What time is it?” I asked, my voice rough with sleep.

“Just after midnight,” Cole replied, closing his laptop. “The storm’s still raging.”

I sat up, running a hand through my hair, which I was sure resembled a bird’s nest. “You all stayed? Don’t you have, I don’t know, important alpha male things to do? Companies to run? Movies to star in? Tech empires to build? Small countries to purchase?”

Adrian’s lips quirked. “All on hold for the moment.”

“We didn’t want to wake you,” Jace added. “You seemed… peaceful.”

The implication that they’d been watching me sleep should have been creepy. Instead, it sent a warm shiver down my spine that I immediately tried to suppress. There was something seriously wrong with me if I found three grown men watching me sleep charming rather than disturbing.

“Right. Because watching someone drool into a couch cushion is the height of entertainment,” I quipped, trying to mask my confusion with sarcasm. “I’m sure it was riveting.”

“It was,” Adrian said simply, his green eyes gleaming in the dim light.

I swallowed hard, unsure how to respond to the raw honesty in his voice.

“Where did everyone go?” I asked, looking around the now-empty room.

“Paul and David headed to bed about an hour ago,” Adrian replied. “You were already out cold by then.”

I frowned, embarrassed at having fallen asleep in front of everyone. “You could have woken me up.”

“We could have,” Cole agreed, his tone suggesting they’d never seriously considered it.

“Well, thanks for the blanket, but I should probably find that guest room now,” I said, standing and stretching. My borrowed shirt rode up slightly, exposing a strip of skin at my waist, and I didn’t miss how three pairs of eyes tracked the movement before quickly looking away.

The intensity of their focus made me suddenly, acutely aware of my body in a way I rarely was—the stretch of fabric across my shoulders, the tightness of the pants against my thighs, the exposed skin at my collarbone where Sheena’s ridiculous shirt dipped too low.

“We’ll show you,” Cole said, rising from his seat. “It’s easy to get lost in this place, especially at night.”

“I’ve been working here for years,” I reminded him. “I think I can find my way around. I’m pretty sure I could navigate this place blindfolded by now.”

“Humor us,” Jace echoed Cole’s earlier words.

“You guys are being weird,” I informed them but didn’t protest further as they fell into step around me—Jace slightly ahead, Adrian and Cole flanking me on either side.

“Like, cult-leader weird. Should I be checking for hidden cameras? Am I about to be inducted into some secret society? Because I should warn you, I look terrible in robes.”

We moved through the darkened mansion, our path illuminated by subtle nightlights placed at regular intervals.

The storm continued its assault outside, rain lashing against windows and wind howling around corners.

Despite my earlier bravado, I was glad for the company.

The Carmichael mansion took on an almost Gothic quality during storms, all shadows and strange noises.

“Madi prepared the blue room for you,” Adrian said as we climbed the grand staircase. “It’s one of the nicest guest suites.”

“And conveniently located near your rooms, I’m guessing?” I asked dryly.

The momentary pause confirmed my suspicion.

“Is that a problem?” Cole asked, his voice neutral.