Page 72 of Captivated By Alphas 1, Fated (The Blood Moon Chronicle #4)

Eli responded with unexpected hunger that made Jace’s knees threaten to buckle.

His mate wasn’t passive, wasn’t just accepting—he was participating, his tongue tangling with Jace’s in a dance of dominance and submission that left them both breathless and wanting more.

When Eli’s fingers tangled in his hair and tugged with just enough pressure to send pleasure-pain shooting down his spine, Jace growled low in his throat.

Strong mate. Not just submissive. Has claws when needed.

The sound seemed to flip some switch in Eli, because suddenly he was kissing Jace back like a man possessed, like he’d been starving for this contact and was finally getting fed. The desperate hunger in his response sent Jace’s control spiraling toward complete destruction.

Jace backed Eli against the bed more firmly, his hands moving to those slender thighs and lifting him effortlessly.

Eli made a startled sound against his mouth but instinctively wrapped his legs around Jace’s waist, his arms tightening around his neck for balance in a position that made Jace’s panther purr with deep satisfaction.

Perfect size for us. Perfect fit. Made to be ours.

“Jesus Christ—warn a person before the manhandling,” Eli gasped, breaking the kiss to stare at Jace with eyes wide as saucers. “I may look delicate, but I’m not actually made of spun glass and wishful thinking.”

“You’re perfect,” Jace corrected with absolute conviction, pleased by how easily he could maneuver Eli’s smaller frame, how perfectly their bodies aligned when pressed together like this.

He turned and sat on the edge of the bed with Eli straddling his lap in a position that gave him access to every inch of pale skin he’d been craving.

“Exactly the right size for what I have in mind.”

Eli’s face flushed at the implication, but his eyes darkened with unmistakable desire that made Jace’s control slip another dangerous notch.

“Is this your standard approach to staff relations? Because the employee handbook definitely doesn’t cover proper protocol for lap-straddling situations involving bosses who could probably bench-press a small car. ”

Mate challenges us. Tests boundaries. Good.

“Only with staff members who taste like winter mornings and make sounds like fallen angels when properly motivated,” Jace replied, his hands sliding up Eli’s back beneath his formal vest to finally touch bare skin. “And you, Eli Harper, make the most incredible sounds.”

The contact sent electricity racing through his system, his panther purring at finally claiming more territory after hours of restraint. The heat of Eli’s skin, the way he shivered at the touch, the subtle arch of his spine—every response was catalogued and treasured.

More skin needed. All barriers removed.

“That’s possibly the most ridiculous pickup line I’ve ever heard,” Eli protested, though his breath hitched as Jace’s fingers traced the elegant curve of his spine with deliberate reverence.

“And I once had someone compare my eyes to bathroom tiles from a high-end renovation show. Which, for the record, was both oddly specific and deeply insulting.”

“Did it work?” Jace asked, genuinely curious despite his growing need to claim every inch of accessible skin.

“Obviously not, or I wouldn’t be here making questionable life choices with Hollywood royalty,” Eli managed, his voice steadier than his racing pulse suggested. “Though I have to admit, your material is slightly more original than most. Points for creativity, even if the execution needs work.”

Jace smiled against Eli’s neck, pleased by the admission hidden within the sarcasm. “I aim to be memorable.”

He trailed kisses down the column of Eli’s throat, pausing to pay special attention to the marks he’d left the night before.

Each one was a small victory, a territorial claim that sent satisfaction surging through him.

When he reached the junction of neck and shoulder, his panther surged forward with demanding hunger.

Mark deeper. Permanent claiming. Make everyone see.

Jace bit down with careful pressure, sucking the sensitive skin until Eli made a sound that was pure surrender disguised as protest. His beast purred with savage satisfaction, urging him to bite harder, to break the skin, to leave a claiming mark that would last for weeks rather than days.

Real claiming bite. Mark him permanently.

“Jace,” Eli gasped, his fingers tightening in Jace’s hair with enough force to make him see stars. “You’re going to leave marks that require industrial-strength concealer and creative storytelling worthy of a CIA covert operation.”

“That’s exactly the idea,” Jace murmured against his skin, his voice rough with possession and need. “I want everyone to see who you belong to.”

Show all rivals. Clear ownership. Perfect.

He expected protest at the possessive statement, some sharp comment about presumptuous alphas and their marking fetishes. Instead, Eli shuddered against him with a small needy sound that sent Jace’s control spiraling toward complete destruction.

“You can’t just say things like that,” Eli whispered, his voice shaky with emotion he was trying to hide. “We barely know each other beyond the basics of name, rank, and apparent neck-biting preferences.”

“I know everything I need to know,” Jace replied, reclaiming Eli’s mouth in another devastating kiss before he could mount further protests.

This time, Jace held nothing back. He kissed Eli like the predator he was—hungry, demanding, consuming.

His tongue swept inside with thorough possession, claiming every corner, every response, every soft sound that escaped.

He bit gently at Eli’s lower lip, soothed it with his tongue, then claimed his mouth again with the single-minded focus of an alpha securing his mate.

Eli responded with matching desperation, his hands fisting in Jace’s shirt as he kissed back with a hunger that surprised them both. When Jace’s teeth grazed his throat, Eli’s head fell back with a gasp that was half pleasure, half surrender.

Take him now. Claim completely. Make him understand.

Jace’s hands roamed freely over Eli’s body, exploring the lean muscle hidden beneath formal attire with growing appreciation.

He worked at the buttons of Eli’s vest and shirt until he could spread them open, revealing more of that perfect pale skin that seemed to glow in the filtered afternoon light.

The sight made his mouth water, his panther rumbling with deep appreciation for the beauty of their mate’s form.

Gorgeous. Perfect. Made for us to mark and claim.

“Beautiful,” Jace murmured with reverent fingers tracing the contours of Eli’s chest, mapping every line and curve with the dedication of a scholar studying sacred texts. “Absolutely perfect.”

Eli’s flush deepened, spreading down his neck to stain his chest with color that only enhanced his ethereal beauty.

“I’m really not—you’re the one who looks like Michelangelo’s David had a baby with a fitness magazine.

I’m more like his awkward cousin who reads too much and forgets to eat regular meals because he gets distracted by interesting fonts. ”

Jace laughed, genuinely delighted by the self-deprecating description that was so typically Eli. His panther preened at the compliment while simultaneously bristling at their mate’s inability to see his own perfection.

Strong mate. Modest mate. Perfect for us.

“I’ve spent years building this body for cameras and critics,” Jace admitted, his hands settling possessively on Eli’s hips while his thumbs traced small circles against bare skin. “But you—you’re natural perfection. Exactly how you should be. Exactly how I need you to be.”

“That’s a lovely sentiment,” Eli replied with characteristic wit despite his obvious arousal, “but I think you might need glasses. Or possibly professional help for whatever neurological condition makes you see Greek gods where normal people see an anxious college student with questionable fashion sense and an alarming caffeine dependency.”

“You’re exactly perfect for me,” Jace corrected, one hand sliding up to curl around the nape of Eli’s neck with gentle but unmistakable dominance. “Exactly what I’ve been waiting for without knowing it.”

The possessive words hung between them, charged with meaning that went far beyond casual attraction or physical chemistry. Through the pack bond, Jace could feel his cousins’ awareness spike as they sensed his heightened emotions, his intense focus on their shared mate.

Mine first, his panther projected through the connection, sending vivid images of Eli straddling their lap, shirt open, neck bared, eyes dark with desire and something deeper than mere physical want.

For now, Adrian returned, his voice thick with barely contained hunger. My turn next, cousin.

Don’t mark him so thoroughly we can’t add our own, Cole added, though his tone betrayed his own possessive need to claim what belonged to all of them.

Marked best. Deepest claiming. Strongest scent.

Jace smiled against Eli’s mouth, enjoying both his mate’s eager response and his cousins’ growing impatience in equal measure. He reclaimed those soft lips in another deep kiss, his tongue tangling with Eli’s in a dance of dominance and submission that left them both breathless and wanting more.

When he finally pulled back to admire his handiwork, Eli looked thoroughly debauched—shirt hanging open to reveal the lean torso Jace had been fantasizing about, lips swollen and red from his attention, fresh marks blooming on his neck alongside the ones from the previous night, platinum hair a disheveled mess from Jace’s possessive fingers.

The sight sent a surge of primitive satisfaction through him that had nothing to do with civilized behavior and everything to do with successful mate claiming.

Perfect. Everyone will know he’s ours.