Page 7 of Captivated By Alphas 1, Fated (The Blood Moon Chronicle #4)
Each territory carried history, politics, and potential complications.
The Carmichael family maintained cordial relations with most—their entertainment empire provided valuable human-world connections that benefited the supernatural community.
Still, Jace noted with interest that the Huntington markers seemed fresher than usual, more deliberately placed. Something to mention to his father.
Beyond the town of Ravenswood, the private road leading to the estate wound through five miles of Carmichael land, ancient trees standing sentinel on either side.
As he navigated the familiar curves, Jace felt his panther stir, recognizing home territory.
The tension he carried from months of filming, publicity, and constant human interaction began to ease from his shoulders.
Unlike the Sinclair wolves who had fled Scotland after the failed uprising, or the Stone wolves with their English heritage, the Carmichael panthers had their own unique journey to America.
Originally Scottish wildcats from the highlands, Sebastian Carmichael had led his family across the Atlantic in 1789 as political unrest threatened their territory.
Already wealthy from trade ventures, he’d seen opportunity in the fledgling American nation and established a foothold in the untamed Pacific Northwest when the territory was still disputed between British and American interests.
What happened next had become legendary in shifter history.
Within a generation of arriving in the Americas, the Carmichael shifters underwent a remarkable transformation.
Their wildcat forms began to grow, adapt, and evolve to match the apex predators of their new territory.
What began as slightly larger wildcats soon developed into powerful black panthers—a phenomenon they came to call “The Great Adaptation.” Family lore held that the spirits of the new land had blessed them with forms better suited to protect their territory and thrive in the dense forests of the Pacific Northwest.
The trees parted to reveal the Carmichael estate in all its glory—fifty acres of manicured grounds surrounding a sprawling mansion that blended classic architecture with modern luxury.
As he rounded the final curve, Jace caught sight of a small cottage nestled among the trees near the edge of the property.
Vineyards stretched across the eastern slopes, his mother’s pet project that had turned surprisingly profitable.
Orchards dotted the southern exposure, while the northern edge of the property melted into dense forest that belonged to the panthers alone.
Far beyond the visible property, accessible only by forest paths known to family members, stood the original Carmichael fortress, their most sacred retreat, where panthers could run free and ancient rituals were still observed.
Titan’s massive black form bounded across the driveway to greet him, the Newfoundland’s tail wagging with such enthusiasm it threatened to create its own weather system.
Though Jace hadn’t been to the estate in five years, he’d seen the gentle giant at various family gatherings in Seattle and New York.
Jace pulled up to the circular driveway, noting several family vehicles already present. He’d barely stepped from the car when the massive front doors swung open.
“My baby!” Madi Carmichael called out, descending the stone steps with the grace of a woman half her age, every inch the alpha female despite her human appearance.
“Mom,” Jace returned, embracing her with genuine affection. Despite standing nearly a foot taller than his mother, he found himself enveloped in her familiar scent of gardenia and home, a combination that instantly transported him back to childhood.
Titan circled them both, his tail sweeping like a furry pendulum, clearly pleased to have another family member home. The dog had no supernatural abilities of his own, but generations of living with shifters had given him an uncanny understanding of pack dynamics.
“You’ve lost weight,” Madi declared, pulling back to examine him with a critical eye. “Tricia!” she called over her shoulder. “We need to fatten this one up immediately!”
Tricia Harper appeared in the doorway, her efficient posture softened by a warm smile. “Welcome home, Mr. Jace. I’ve already had Duncan prepare your favorites for dinner.”
“Tricia, you’re a saint,” Jace replied, following his mother up the steps. “Please tell me there’s apple pie involved.”
“Would I dare face your wrath otherwise?” Tricia quipped, already turning to direct two uniformed maids regarding his luggage. “Though Duncan threatened bodily harm to anyone who touches it before dinner.”
The grand foyer opened into a soaring great room, where Jace spotted his younger brothers sprawled across designer furniture, gaming controllers in hand. The scene was so perfectly casual it could have been staged for a luxury living magazine—Billionaire Shifters at Home.
“The prodigal son returns,” Paul called out without looking away from the massive screen. At twenty-four, the professional basketball player had the family height but lacked the alpha gene, a fact that had never seemed to bother him. “Did you bring me any famous actresses’ phone numbers?”
A blur of white fur came racing down the grand staircase, Princess’ excited yips announcing her arrival. She bounded directly to Jace, circling his feet before sitting prettily, as if she’d been waiting specifically for him.
“None that would give you the time of day,” Jace retorted to Paul, bending briefly to acknowledge the tiny dog before ruffling his brother’s hair as he passed. “Your jump shot is more impressive than your pickup lines.”
David, more reserved at twenty-six, paused the game and stood to greet his older brother. “Good to see you, Jace. How was the drive?”
“Uneventful, thankfully. Huntington territory seemed busy, though.”
“Your father mentioned something about that,” Madi said, leading him toward the kitchen. “He’s been on calls all morning with various packs. Some kind of disturbance near the Canadian border.”
The kitchen was a masterpiece of rustic luxury—copper and stone, with a massive island where Duncan Campbell was already arranging a welcome spread. Floor-to-ceiling windows showcased the orchards beyond, heavy with summer fruit.
“There he is!” Duncan boomed, his Scottish accent thickening as it always did when he was excited. “The Hollywood hero returns! Come here, lad. You’re looking half-starved.”
“Duncan,” Jace greeted the chef warmly. “Still terrorizing the kitchen staff, I see.”
“Someone has to maintain standards.” Duncan sniffed, pushing a plate of artisan cheeses and fresh bread toward Jace. “These Americans wouldn’t know proper food if it bit them on the arse. Your brother Paul ate an entire tray of canapés meant for twenty people last week. Twenty!”
Despite having lived in the States for decades, Duncan still considered himself a proper Scotsman.
He’d come from the same Highland region as the original Carmichael clan, though his family had remained in Scotland when Sebastian led the exodus to America.
The connection had been reestablished when George Carmichael, during a trip to their ancestral homeland, discovered Duncan working in a small restaurant in Edinburgh.
Recognizing his supernatural nature—a rare Scottish wildcat shifter who hadn’t undergone The Great Adaptation—George had offered him a position in America.
“Hungry?” Madi asked, though it wasn’t really a question as she pushed Jace onto a stool. “You must be exhausted after that early flight and the drive.”
“I’m fine, Mom,” Jace assured her, accepting the food and the fussing. “Where’s Dad?”
“Meeting,” Madi replied, her tone carefully neutral, though her eyes flashed briefly. “Something about boundary adjustments near Portland. He should be home for dinner.”
Jace nodded, filing the information away. Boundary discussions were rarely casual, another piece in whatever puzzle was developing in the supernatural community.
“And Sheena?” he asked of his fashion-obsessed sister.
“Paris,” three voices answered simultaneously.
“Fashion Week,” Tricia elaborated. “Though she promised to be back for the family gathering next week.”
Jace relaxed into the familiar rhythm of family conversation, letting Hollywood and its pressures fade into the background. For all the glamour and excitement of his public life, there was something irreplaceable about being among people who knew both sides of him—the man and the beast.
After sampling enough of Duncan’s offerings to satisfy his mother’s maternal instincts, Jace excused himself. “I need to wash the travel off me,” he explained, already heading for the grand staircase.
His suite occupied the east wing of the mansion, the same rooms he’d claimed as a teenager when his panther first emerged.
The space had evolved with him, from adolescent retreat to the sophisticated quarters of an alpha who moved between worlds.
Floor-to-ceiling windows showcased the valley on two sides, while the interior spaces blended masculine luxury with touches of his Hollywood life—awards displayed with casual indifference, framed movie posters his mother insisted on hanging, photographs with celebrities who had no idea they were smiling beside a predator.
The moment Jace stepped into his suite, his panther surged forward with such violence it nearly stole his breath.
A scent unlike anything he’d ever encountered permeated the air—pristine mountain snow, winter jasmine, and something wild that made his inner beast claw against his control.
His nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply, pupils dilating as his panther fought to surface.
“What the fuck?” he growled, following the intoxicating trail deeper into his suite. It grew stronger as he approached the bedroom, becoming almost unbearably potent near the closed bathroom door.