Page 67 of Captivated By Alphas 1, Fated (The Blood Moon Chronicle #4)

Iwoke up to Jace Carmichael’s face staring down at me from my Night Hunter poster, and after last night, the whole thing felt way too personal.

His blue eyes seemed to follow me with an intensity that made me want to hide under my covers and never come out.

Which was probably the mature response to whatever the hell had happened in that car.

My fingers drifted to my lips for the millionth time since I’d stumbled home at an ungodly hour, still feeling phantom pressure from three different mouths.

Holy shit. Did that actually happen? Did I seriously make out with not one, not two, but three Carmichael men last night?

The same guys whose faces I’d been staring at on my walls since I was seventeen?

Great. Now I was that person. The one who kisses movie posters good night.

I flopped back onto my pillow with a groan that would make Duncan’s dramatic sighs seem subdued.

Something inside me—some part I didn’t even know existed until last night—practically vibrated at the memory.

Jace pressing me against the car with zero apologies, all demanding hands and possessive mouth.

Adrian’s playful teasing, discovering exactly what made me gasp.

Cole’s controlled intensity, barely restraining himself from devouring me whole.

“Get your shit together, Harper,” I muttered to my ceiling, which had no helpful advice to offer.

My body ignored the memo completely. Every time I replayed their hands on me, their mouths claiming mine, that weird warmth spread through my core again.

My insides were performing some bizarre rearrangement to make room for whatever the hell was happening to me.

The three most eligible bachelors on the west coast had kissed me senseless last night, and I was supposed to just…

function today? Serve fancy finger food at the Carmichael family reunion while pretending my entire reality hadn’t just been flipped inside out?

Right. No problem. Just another Tuesday in my increasingly bizarre life.

My phone lit up with approximately five million texts from Sheena.

Spill. NOW. Adrian hasn’t stopped smirking since they got back.

Mom’s already interrogated Jace since he woke up.

If you don’t give me details, I’ll tell David about your magazine collection.

Oh God. My magazine collection. The one carefully hidden under my bed that definitely didn’t contain any shirtless Carmichael photoshoots. Nope. Not at all.

Great. So much for any illusion of privacy.

With Adrian’s big mouth, the entire household probably had a play-by-play of my makeout session before they even pulled into the driveway last night.

I could already picture the kitchen staff placing bets on which cousin had the best technique.

Duncan would probably have opinions about proper kissing form.

I rolled out of bed and shuffled to the bathroom, immediately regretting every life choice that had led to this moment when I caught sight of myself in the mirror.

“Holy mother of—” My neck looked absolutely destroyed.

Purple-red marks dotted my skin in an obvious pattern of possession, each one a vivid souvenir of exactly which Carmichael had put their mouth where.

This was fine. Totally normal. Just your average Tuesday morning after being thoroughly claimed by three panther shifters who happen to be disgustingly wealthy, unreasonably hot, and inexplicably interested in little old me.

“This is fine,” I told my reflection, voice cracking slightly. “Everything is completely under control. You definitely didn’t just discover you have some kind of supernatural submission kink that makes you want to bare your throat to alpha predators. That would be crazy.”

I traced one particularly vivid mark below my ear, memory flashing to Adrian’s teeth grazing that exact spot.

A shiver raced down my spine, and some traitorous part of me actually preened at the visible evidence of their attention.

What the actual hell? When did I become the type to enjoy being marked?

Yet here I was, secretly thrilled by the proof that last night wasn’t just some elaborate fantasy my brain had conjured up during a particularly creative masturbation session.

My phone buzzed with a text from Mom. Don’t be late. Family meeting at 10.

And just like that, reality crashed back down on my head. The Carmichael family reunion. Where I’d have to face not only my employers but also the three men who’d spent last night taking turns kissing me senseless.

While wearing very visible evidence of said kissing.

“Fuck me sideways,” I muttered, digging through my closet for anything with a high collar.

My wardrobe, predictably, contained exactly zero turtlenecks.

I lived in the Pacific Northwest, not a 1950s beatnik poetry reading.

Although maybe it was time to embrace the aesthetic if it meant hiding the fact that I looked thoroughly debauched.

I settled for a button-down shirt with the collar flipped up, which made me look ridiculous but at least covered the most damning evidence. My phone buzzed again.

Don’t forget the garment bag with your uniform. And your car better not break down again. -Mom

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” I glared at my phone. “Love you too, Mom.”

The drive from our cottage to the mansion usually took about ten minutes, winding through vineyards and gardens that normally felt peaceful.

Today, each curve in the road just brought me closer to my impending public humiliation.

What exactly was the protocol here? “Thanks for the mind-blowing kisses, sirs; would you care for some fancy cheese with your overpriced wine?”

Maybe I should just call in sick. Food poisoning. Very sudden, very dramatic food poisoning that definitely wasn’t caused by having a minor nervous breakdown about my confusing sexuality and the fact that I apparently had a thing for being passed around by gorgeous alpha shifters.

No. That was the coward’s way out. I was Eli Harper, dammit. I faced my problems head-on. Usually by making sarcastic comments until they went away, but still.

By the time I parked at the service entrance, I’d settled on a strategy of avoiding eye contact with all Carmichaels while somehow still performing my duties. Flawless plan with absolutely zero chance of failure. I was basically a tactical genius.

The kitchen was already chaos incarnate.

Duncan bellowed orders in Scottish-accented English that deteriorated into pure Gaelic when someone dropped a tray of canapés.

Staff members darted around, carrying everything from flower arrangements to ice sculptures that probably cost more than my semester’s tuition.

“There you are!” Mom materialized beside me, clipboard in hand, hair already escaping its neat bun in a way that meant she’d been running around since dawn. “You’re cutting it close.”

“By three minutes,” I protested, checking my watch with the indignation of someone who definitely hadn’t spent twenty minutes having a crisis in their car before walking inside.

“Which is exactly three minutes we don’t have.

The Millers arrive in an hour, and Aunt Josephine called to say she’s bringing her new boyfriend who’s apparently allergic to everything except champagne and attention.

” She paused, squinting at my collar with the suspicious look that meant she’d already figured out I was hiding something.

“Why are you dressed for a vampire movie?”

I tugged at my upturned collar self-consciously. “It’s fashion, Mom. Very cutting edge. Very… European.”

“It’s ridiculous is what it is. Go change into your uniform before—”

“Eli!” Sheena’s voice cut through the kitchen chaos with the precision of a surgical knife.

She appeared in the doorway, already dressed in something that probably cost more than my semester’s tuition and looked effortlessly perfect while doing it.

“Oh my God, Adrian told me about Ravenswood Heights! And the overlook! And—”

“Volume, Sheena,” I hissed, feeling heat crawl up my neck as every staff member in a ten-foot radius suddenly developed superhuman hearing. “The entire kitchen doesn’t need to hear about my evening.”

“Please. They already know. Adrian’s been strutting around all morning, and Jace nearly took Paul’s head off when he made a joke about…” She reached for my collar with the determination of someone who lived for drama. “Let me see what they did to you—”

I batted her hand away with the desperation of someone whose dignity was hanging by a thread. “Don’t you have guests to terrorize or something?”

“Not for another hour.” She grinned wickedly, which was never a good sign. Sheena with time to kill was a dangerous creature. “Plenty of time for you to spill every delicious detail. Starting with why you look like you’ve been thoroughly—”

“Miss Sheena, I’m sorry to interrupt, but Duncan’s waiting on Eli for the appetizer service. Perhaps you two could continue this conversation later?”

Thank God for Mom and her perfect timing. I shot her a grateful look that she returned with a knowing smile. Clearly the entire staff was aware of my predicament.

Sheena sighed dramatically, the sound of someone whose entertainment had been cruelly interrupted. To me, she said, “This conversation isn’t over. And change into that uniform I designed—you look ridiculous.”

She flounced away with the confidence of someone who’d never met a room she couldn’t command, leaving me with Mom’s scrutinizing gaze and the distinct feeling that I was about to be interrogated by someone who’d perfected the art during my teenage years.

“Uniform. Staff bathroom. And for heaven’s sake, fix your collar. You look ridiculous, and it’s not hiding anything anyway.”