Page 74 of Captivated By Alphas 1, Fated (The Blood Moon Chronicle #4)
CARMICHAEL COUSINS
Adrian slouched against the bar, half listening to Aunt Edith’s tortured description of her Pomeranian’s dietary restrictions yet again, while his brain mainlined the images Jace was broadcasting.
The sight of Eli, neck bared, lips swollen and marked, hit him like a shot of pure adrenaline straight to the heart.
His fingers tightened around his champagne flute until the crystal shrieked in protest.
Show-off, he fired through their bond, his voice crackling with more hunger than anger. Always gotta be first, don’t you?
Alpha privilege, Jace smugly shot back, followed by one final money shot of Eli’s dazed expression.
Adrian’s panther went absolutely wild, crashing against his mental barriers with enough force to make his vision swim.
Our turn now, it howled, raking phantom claws down his insides like a cat sharpening its weapons. Need to mark too. Our mate.
“If you’ll excuse me, ladies.” Adrian flashed his signature indie-darling smile, the one that had film critics waxing poetic about his “soulful intensity.” “My muse just walked in, and inspiration waits for no man—not even one with such delightful company.”
He tracked Eli through the reception rooms, savoring the delicious irony.
He’d flown in specifically to witness Jace’s mating crisis, to collect blackmail material for decades of future teasing.
Instead, he’d fallen headfirst into the same trap—though he’d be damned if he’d approach it with Jace’s caveman subtlety.
Those visible marks on Eli’s neck—Jace’s ham-fisted handiwork—made Adrian’s panther bristle with creative indignation.
Crude work, it sneered, practically foaming at the mouth. No vision. No style. We make better art.
When Eli entered the great room balancing a tray of dessert wines, Adrian made his move, sliding up with the same silent grace that had his last director begging him to do his own stunts.
“You missed a spot,” he murmured, materializing at Eli’s elbow.
“Jesus Christ!” Eli startled, wine sloshing dangerously close to the tray’s edge. “Wear a bell or something! I nearly baptized Mr. Peterson’s toupee with Cabernet.”
“And deprive the world of my dramatic entrances?” Adrian plucked a glass from the tray with practiced fingers. “Where’s the narrative tension in that? No good director telegraphs the jump scares.”
“There’s nothing cinematic about cardiac arrest before thirty,” Eli shot back, though a reluctant smile tugged at his lips, transforming his face with unexpected warmth. “Some of us are trying to maintain professional dignity here.”
“Professional dignity,” Adrian repeated, circling Eli with deliberate appreciation, studying him from every angle like a sculpture he was considering purchasing. “Is that what we’re calling it? Because from where I’m standing, you look distinctly… unprofessional.”
Eli’s free hand flew to his neck, eyes widening with horror. “Is it that obvious?”
“Only to anyone with functioning eyeballs,” Adrian confirmed, leaning close enough that his breath stirred the platinum strands at Eli’s temple. “Though I must say, Jace’s technique lacks… artistic finesse. All passion, no composition. Tragic, really.”
“And I suppose you could do better?” The challenge escaped before Eli could stop it, his lavender-blue eyes widening as he realized what he’d just implied.
Adrian’s panther went absolutely feral with delight.
Invitation, it shrieked, practically dancing beneath his skin. Mate wants our marks. Better marks.
“Infinitely,” Adrian promised, his voice dropping to that smoky register that had his acting coach threatening to rent it out as premium phone sex audio. “I am the artistic one, after all.”
“You’re the full-of-yourself one,” Eli countered, though the sudden flush crawling up his neck betrayed his interest. “And I’m working.”
“You’re hiding,” Adrian corrected, falling into step as Eli attempted to escape by offering wine to nearby guests. “Trying to pretend my cousin didn’t just drag you into a guest room and ruin you for normal human interaction.”
“Keep your voice down!” Eli hissed, his face flaring so bright it could guide ships to shore. “You want to announce it over the PA system while you’re at it?”
“Don’t tempt me.” Adrian grinned, watching color sweep across Eli’s cheekbones like sunset over snow. “I have an excellent announcer voice. Won an award for it in film school.”
Eli rolled his eyes, moving toward the next cluster of guests. “Don’t you have fans to charm? Critics to seduce? Mirrors to practice your smoldering gaze in?”
“All catastrophically dull compared to watching you pretend you’re not thinking about what just happened,” Adrian replied, matching Eli’s pace effortlessly. “Or what could happen next.”
“There is no ‘next,’” Eli insisted, though his scent spiked with unmistakable interest. “That was— It was temporary insanity. A momentary lapse in judgment. A glitch in the matrix.”
“That’s a lot of euphemisms for ‘the best makeout session of my life.’” Adrian laughed, the sound turning heads across the room. “And honey, that was just the cold open. Wait till you see the feature presentation.”
Eli nearly fumbled the tray. “You’re completely delusional.”
“I’m a visionary,” Adrian corrected, deftly relieving an elderly woman of her empty glass. “My last film won at Cannes for ‘innovative perspective.’ I see possibilities others miss.”
“Right now you should see yourself exiting my personal space,” Eli retorted, but there was a spark in his eyes Adrian hadn’t noticed before—not just irritation but genuine engagement, as if he was enjoying their verbal sparring match.
His panther practically purred at the discovery. Perfect mate. Challenges us. Not boring.
Adrian followed Eli from group to group, maintaining a running commentary just quiet enough that only Eli could hear, each observation crafted to provoke a reaction.
“That shade of flustered really brings out the purple in your eyes.”
“Did you make those same little sounds with Jace? That half gasp, half whimper thing?”
“I bet I could make you forget every language you speak in under ten minutes.”
With each comment, Eli’s composure frayed further, his retorts growing sharper, his eyes brighter, and his scent sweeter with unmistakable arousal.
“Were you this annoying on set, or is this a special performance just for me?”
“If your directing is as subtle as your come-ons, I’m shocked you haven’t been blacklisted.”
“I’m starting to think God gave you that face to compensate for everything else.”
Adrian’s panther practically danced with joy at each barbed response. Perfect. Sharp claws. Perfect match for us.
When Eli finally deposited his empty tray on a side table, Adrian seized his chance.
“I have something you need to see,” he said, dropping his voice to the register that had won him “Most Seductive Line Delivery” at the Indie Spirit Awards. “A preview few have been privileged to view.”
Eli’s eyebrow arched with perfect skepticism. “Is that what you call it? Because I’m pretty sure there’s a law against unsolicited previews.”
“Such a filthy mind beneath that professional exterior.” Adrian tsked, enjoying the way color bloomed across Eli’s cheekbones. “I’m talking about the first poster for Midnight Mirror. Just arrived this morning.”
Eli’s expression shifted, professional interest overriding caution. “The psychological thriller with Margot Winters? The one with the creepy twins?”
“The very same,” Adrian confirmed, already guiding Eli toward the hallway with the lightest touch at his elbow. “It’s in the library. I’d value your professional opinion.”
Perfect trap, his panther crowed with satisfaction as Eli fell into step beside him. Appeal to creative mate’s talents.
“Five minutes,” Eli stipulated, his curiosity clearly getting the better of his caution. “Then I have to get back before my mom organizes a search party.”
“Five minutes,” Adrian agreed solemnly, though his panther was already calculating how many marks it could leave in that time frame.
They reached the library, and Adrian pushed the doors open with the flair of a man unveiling his masterpiece. “After you.”
Eli stepped inside, taking in the sweeping grandeur of leather-bound books and polished wood, afternoon sunlight filtering through stained glass to paint jewel-toned patterns across the floor.
“This room always feels like stepping into another century,” he murmured, momentarily forgetting suspicion in genuine appreciation.
Adrian’s eye caught the way light played across Eli’s platinum hair, turning ordinary movement into cinematic slow motion. His panther drank in the sight with equal appreciation.
Beautiful mate. Perfect for our artistic soul.
“So where’s this poster?” Eli asked, glancing around the massive room.
Adrian advanced with deliberate steps, enjoying the way Eli instinctively backed up with each movement, like a perfectly choreographed dance. “I may have exaggerated about the poster.”
“You lied,” Eli accused, his back hitting a bookshelf.
“I created a narrative device to advance the plot,” Adrian corrected, closing the distance until barely a breath separated them. “I am a storyteller, after all.”
Claim now, his panther demanded, muscles coiling to spring. Trapped him perfectly.
“Does this trick actually work?” Eli asked, his eyes darting to Adrian’s mouth, then quickly away. “Luring people into libraries with fake movie posters?”
“You tell me,” Adrian murmured, tracing one finger along Eli’s jaw. “You’re here, aren’t you?”
“Because I temporarily lost my mind,” Eli countered, though he made no move to escape. “Artistic curiosity temporarily overriding common sense.”
“The best art always requires abandoning common sense,” Adrian replied, backing Eli toward the massive oak desk dominating the center of the room. “Van Gogh cut off his ear. Hemingway boxed with lions. I lure beautiful boys into libraries.”