Page 55 of Captivated By Alphas 1, Fated (The Blood Moon Chronicle #4)

“Don’t thank him for stating the obvious,” Cole said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through me despite the distance between us. “Though your blush is equally captivating.”

That, of course, only made me blush harder.

I busied myself rearranging the fruit platter, desperate for something to do with my hands.

The fruit didn’t need rearranging—it was already arranged to within an inch of its life—but it was either that or spontaneously combust from the combined heat of their gazes.

“Boys,” George warned, though there was a hint of amusement in his voice. “You’re making Eli uncomfortable.”

“Am I making you uncomfortable, Eli?” Jace asked, his voice dropping to that deep register that did strange things to my insides.

“No,” I lied automatically, then caught myself. “I mean, yes. I mean—this is weird, right? This is weird. You’re all being weird. Weirder than usual, which is saying something because this family’s baseline weird is already pretty high.”

“What’s weird about appreciating beauty?” Adrian asked innocently, though there was nothing innocent about the way his eyes traveled over me.

“When it’s three against one? Everything,” I retorted, finding my voice at last. “And I’m trying to serve breakfast, not audition for… whatever this is.”

Instead of being offended, all three of them laughed—a rich, harmonious sound that was both beautiful and unsettling.

“He’s got spirit,” Cole said approvingly. “I like that.”

“So do I,” Jace agreed, his eyes never leaving mine. “Makes things more… interesting.”

“Enough,” George said firmly. “Eli, thank you for your service this morning. I believe we can manage from here.”

A clear dismissal. I nodded gratefully and retreated to the kitchen with my stack of dishes, equal parts relieved and bewildered by the strange interaction.

“They’re done,” I announced to Duncan as I pushed through the doors. “And they’ve all lost their minds.”

“Sit, eat,” Duncan commanded, pushing a plate toward me. “You look like you need it.”

I collapsed onto a stool at the kitchen island, suddenly aware of how hungry I was. “Thanks, Duncan.”

“What did they do this time?” my mother asked, joining me with her own plate.

“Nothing specific,” I said, spearing a piece of fruit. “Just… intense staring. Weird comments. The usual but cranked up to eleven. It’s like someone replaced them with identical but much more intense versions of themselves. Pod people, but with better hair and more intense eye contact.”

My mother and Duncan exchanged a look I couldn’t interpret.

“What?” I demanded. “You two know something. Spill it.”

“It’s not our place,” my mother said carefully. “But… be careful around them, Eli. They’re good men, but they’re still—”

“Predators,” Duncan finished when she hesitated. “At their core, that’s what they are.”

I finished my breakfast quickly, helping the kitchen staff clean up despite Duncan’s protests. By the time we finished, it was nearly ten, and the mansion had settled into its midmorning quiet as the family dispersed to their various activities.

Titan found me again, his massive head butting against my leg insistently.

“What’s up, big guy?” I asked, crouching to scratch behind his ears. “Want to go for a walk?”

Titan whined, his tail wagging hopefully.

“Alright, let’s go for a walk,” I agreed, grateful for the distraction. “Let me just grab your leash.”

Twenty minutes later, we were strolling through the vineyard, the morning sun warming my skin as Titan bounded ahead with all the grace of a furry freight train.

The massive Newfoundland would race forward to investigate some fascinating scent, then circle back to me as if making sure I hadn’t been abducted by aliens in the thirty seconds he’d been gone.

The storm had transformed the estate overnight, leaving behind a landscape that couldn’t decide if it was devastated or just dramatically rearranged.

Fallen branches littered the paths, and what had been manicured lawns now resembled miniature swamps.

The vineyard had fared better, the neat rows of vines standing strong despite the battering they’d received.

I inhaled deeply, enjoying the clean, rain-washed air that smelled of wet earth and ripening grapes.

After the intensity of breakfast with the cousins, this peaceful walk was exactly what I needed—a chance to reset my system and maybe figure out why my body kept short-circuiting around them like a cheap laptop in a thunderstorm.

“Eli! Wait up!”

So much for peaceful solitude. I turned to see Paul jogging toward me, with David following at a more sedate pace. Paul moved with the easy athleticism of someone who made millions bouncing a ball, while David had the measured stride of a man who knew his worth down to the penny.

“Mind if we join you?” Paul asked, falling into step beside me. “I need to work off some of Duncan’s breakfast before practice. Pretty sure those pancakes were actually carb-loaded frisbees designed to slow down the competition.”

“Sure.” I shrugged, secretly pleased for the company despite my earlier desire for solitude. “The more the merrier. And by ‘merrier,’ I mean ‘less likely to be eaten by whatever wildlife survived the storm.’ I’m pretty sure I saw a raccoon earlier giving me the evil eye.”

“Beautiful morning,” David commented as he caught up. “Hard to believe how bad the storm was last night.”

“Nature’s mood swings,” Paul agreed, stretching his arms overhead in a move that displayed exactly why he had his own sports drink endorsement. “Though I’m not complaining about the heat wave coming. Perfect timing for the family reunion this weekend.”

“You guys ready for the Carmichael invasion?” I asked, watching Titan bound ahead on the path, his black fur gleaming in the sunlight. “Last year’s event sounded like a cross between a royal wedding and a frat party, based on Sheena’s stories.”

Paul snorted, a sound that somehow managed to be both elegant and undignified. “Please. It’s going to be epic. We’ve got a live band coming, a champagne fountain, and enough food to feed a small country. Aunt Josephine has already called twice to make sure we’re serving her special martinis.”

“The ones that could strip paint?” I asked, remembering Sheena’s colorful descriptions of her aunt’s drinking preferences. “I think Duncan’s planning to wear a hazmat suit while mixing them.”

“Plus, you’ve got an unfair advantage,” David noted with a smirk.

“Hey, I can’t help that panther reflexes make me the best dancer in the family.” Paul grinned, executing a little spin that would have looked ridiculous on anyone else. “I hold back… sometimes.”

“Sure you do,” I rolled my eyes. “I’ve seen you at Sheena’s birthday parties. You dance like a drunk giraffe on a sugar high. All limbs and enthusiasm, zero coordination.”

“But a very graceful drunk giraffe,” Paul protested, clutching his chest in mock offense. “Like a ballet dancer. Who happens to be the size of a tank. With rhythm. And style.”

“And delusions,” David added dryly, making me laugh.

As we rounded the curve in the path, I spotted a familiar truck pulling up to the mansion’s entrance. My father’s ancient Ford that refused to die despite having more miles on it than most NASA spacecraft.

“Isn’t that my dad’s truck?” I frowned, pausing. He usually spent the day after a storm checking the grounds for damage, but he typically started at the far edge of the property, not at the main house.

“Probably just checking on storm damage,” Paul said, but something in his tone made me glance at him. He and David exchanged a look that set off my internal alarm bells—the kind of look people exchange when they know something you don’t and are debating whether to tell you.

A sleek black car pulled up behind my father’s truck. A distinguished older man with silver hair stepped out, his bearing regal despite his age.

“That’s Elder Matthews,” I said, recognizing the head of the regional supernatural council. I’d seen him at various Carmichael events over the years, always surrounded by an aura of authority that made even George Carmichael treat him with careful respect. “What’s he doing here?”

Paul grinned, already pulling off his shirt with the casual exhibitionism of someone who’d been on the cover of Sports Illustrated. “Race you to the oak grove, David?”

“I’ll pass,” David said dryly, checking his watch like he had more important things to do than watch his brother strip. “Some of us have actual work to do today. I’ll catch up with you later.”

The abrupt change of subject wasn’t lost on me, but before I could press for answers, Titan barked excitedly, circling Paul as if he knew what was coming. The massive dog always got enthusiastic when one of the Carmichaels was about to shift, like he was watching his favorite magic trick.

Paul shifted with the practiced ease of someone who’d done it thousands of times, his human form seamlessly flowing into the powerful black panther.

Despite my familiarity with shifters, there was always something impressive about watching a Carmichael transform—they were some of the largest panthers in the region, and even as a beta, Paul was intimidating.

One moment he was a six-foot-something basketball star, the next he was four hundred pounds of sleek muscle and gleaming fur.

He padded over to me, bumping his head against my hand in a familiar greeting.

Titan pranced around the large cat, completely unafraid despite the natural predator-prey dynamic that should exist between them.

The two had been buddies for years, though watching a massive dog play with a panther never stopped being surreal.

“Show-off,” I said affectionately, scratching behind Paul’s ears. “You always do this when you don’t want to answer my questions. Very subtle. Next time just put your fingers in your ears and go ‘la la la’ like a normal person.”

Paul made that chuffing sound that passed for laughter in his panther form, then crouched down expectantly. Titan barked once, as if encouraging me to get on.

“Fine, I’ll drop it. For now,” I warned, climbing onto Paul’s back.

We’d been doing this since I was sixteen—Paul would shift and carry me through the vineyard at speeds that would make Olympic sprinters jealous.

It was exhilarating, even if it did make my adoptive parents nervous.

The first time they caught us, Mom nearly had a heart attack.

Dad just shook his head and muttered something about “kids these days” and their “unusual hobbies.”

David gathered Paul’s discarded clothes with a knowing smile.

“I’ll leave these at the oak grove. Try not to let him drop you this time.”

“That was one time!” I protested, grabbing handfuls of Paul’s fur to secure myself. “And he did it on purpose.”

“And yet you keep getting on his back,” David pointed out with infuriating logic.

“What can I say? I’m a slow learner with questionable survival instincts,” I replied, settling more comfortably on Paul’s back. “It’s part of my charm.”

Paul’s rumbling growl beneath me sounded suspiciously like a laugh as he took off, racing through the vineyard with the fluid grace that made panthers such perfect predators.

Titan bounded alongside us, his massive paws thundering against the earth as he kept pace with the panther.

The Newfoundland’s tongue lolled out happily as he ran, clearly enjoying the impromptu race through the vineyard.

The wind whipped through my hair as Paul accelerated, his powerful muscles bunching and stretching beneath me. This was freedom in its purest form—racing through the storm-washed landscape, leaving all the confusion and tension of the morning behind.

For just a moment, something strange happened—a flicker of sensation along my spine, a tingle that spread outward through my limbs like wildfire beneath my skin.

I felt almost weightless, like I could leap from Paul’s back and fly.

The vineyard around me seemed sharper, more vivid, the scents of wet earth and ripening grapes suddenly overwhelming in their intensity.

I could hear the individual drops of water falling from leaves, smell the earthworms moving beneath the soil, feel the sunlight on my skin like a physical caress.

The sensation passed as quickly as it came, leaving me disoriented and breathless.

What the hell was that? I gripped Paul’s fur tighter, shaking my head to clear it.

Maybe I was getting sick. Or maybe Sheena’s makeup products had weird chemicals that caused hallucinations. That would explain a lot, actually.

“Slow down a bit,” I called, trying to sound casual despite my racing heart. “I think Titan’s getting tired.”

Paul obligingly reduced his speed, though the massive dog showed no signs of fatigue.

We wound through the rows of vines, making our way toward the oak grove at the eastern edge of the property.

I tried to ignore the lingering strangeness in my body, the way my senses seemed to be dialed up to eleven, then back to normal again.

The oak grove was one of my favorite places on the estate—ancient trees forming a natural cathedral, their branches creating patterns of light and shadow on the ground below.

The air felt different here, cooler and somehow charged with energy.

Paul slowed to a walk as we entered the dappled shade, the temperature dropping several degrees beneath the canopy.

He crouched down to let me dismount, then padded over to where David had left his clothes. With a shudder and twist that never ceased to amaze me, he shifted back to human form, quickly pulling on his pants.

“That was fun,” he said, shaking out his shirt. “Though you got heavier since last time. Maybe ease up on Duncan’s pastries?”

“Maybe ease up on the insulting commentary before I tell your coach about your secret midnight ice cream habit,” I retorted, settling onto a fallen log.

Titan flopped down at my feet, panting happily.

“I know about the hidden Ben & Jerry’s stash in the freezer behind the bag of frozen peas that no one ever eats. ”

Paul laughed, pulling his shirt over his head. “Touché.”