Page 84 of Captivated By Alphas 1, Fated (The Blood Moon Chronicle #4)

Ipressed myself against the truck’s mangled side, blood from my shoulder wound soaking through my torn shirt in hot, sticky waves.

I’d been playing this deadly game of keep-away with the scarred panther for what felt like hours but was probably only a few minutes, using the truck as a barrier while it stalked around looking for the perfect angle to turn me into lunch.

Above me, crouched on the hood like some nightmare made flesh, a massive scarred panther prepared to turn me into his afternoon snack.

“Well, this is just fucking perfect,” I wheezed, staring up into yellow eyes that held absolutely zero intelligence. Just hunger. Raw, mindless hunger that made my skin crawl. “Of all the ways I imagined dying, ‘mauled by discount Bagheera’ wasn’t on the list.”

The thing’s muscles bunched as it prepared to spring. Saliva dripped from its jaws, landing on my face in warm, disgusting drops that smelled like rotting meat and something chemical I couldn’t identify.

“Really? Right now?” I demanded, wiping panther spit from my cheek with a shaking hand. “I’m already bleeding, my dad’s unconscious, and you’re going to make this day worse? Read the fucking room, dude.”

My hands were doing that weird crystal claw thing again—fingernails elongating into translucent points that caught the afternoon light like polished diamonds. The transformation should have hurt, should have been impossible, but it felt as natural as breathing.

The massive form launched itself at me with enough force to crush bones. Time seemed to slow as those jaws opened, revealing teeth longer than my fingers, aimed directly at my throat.

Then something black and furious slammed into the attacking panther midair with the force of a freight train.

The impact was so violent both creatures crashed through what remained of the truck’s windshield in an explosion of glass and blood. I threw my arms up to shield my face as shards rained down, but I couldn’t look away from the battle unfolding before me.

The newcomer was magnificent—easily twice the size of my attacker, with midnight black fur that seemed to drink in light and spit it back out as pure menace.

Golden eyes blazed with an intelligence so fierce it made my breath catch, and when they locked on mine through the carnage, recognition slammed through me like lightning.

Those eyes knew me. Claimed me. Promised retribution for every drop of blood that had been spilled.

“Holy shit,” I breathed, watching as the black panther’s jaws closed around the feral’s throat with surgical precision. The killing bite was swift, efficient, beautiful in its lethality. “That’s not just any panther. That’s…”

The feral convulsed once, then went still. The black panther held its grip for another heartbeat—not because it needed to, but because it wanted me to see what happened to things that threatened what was his.

When he finally released the lifeless body and turned those molten gold eyes on me, the possessive intensity in his gaze made heat explode through my core despite our dire circumstances.

“Jace?” The name escaped as barely a whisper, but his rumble of acknowledgment vibrated through my bones like a promise.

The massive panther—because holy shit, that was actually Jace Carmichael in all his lethal glory—rumbled deep in his chest. Not a threat, but something possessive and protective that made heat pool low in my stomach despite the circumstances.

He leaped gracefully from the truck, landing beside me, and Jesus Christ, everyone had been right.

All those stories from Paul and David about how terrifying the cousins were in panther form, all of Sheena’s dramatic descriptions of their “devastating beauty” as shifters, all the whispered legends among the estate staff about the legendary Carmichael alphas—none of it had prepared me for this.

Jace was magnificent. Deadly. Absolutely fucking gorgeous in a way that made my brain short-circuit even while bleeding and terrified.

Midnight fur that seemed to absorb light, muscles rippling beneath his sleek coat with barely restrained power, those impossible golden eyes burning with intelligence and something deeper that made my pulse race.

“This explains so much about the family dynamics,” I managed, drinking in the sight of him. “And here I thought the weirdest thing about you guys was Sheena’s fashion obsession.”

The massive panther began shifting, bones cracking and reforming with wet pops, midnight fur receding to reveal golden skin. In seconds, Jace Carmichael knelt naked in the broken glass, human again, those impossible blue eyes blazing with concern and fury.

“Eli,” he breathed, crossing to me in two swift strides. His hands found my face, fingers tracing my cheekbones as he searched for injuries. “Fuck, are you hurt? I saw the blood—”

“I’m okay,” I managed, though my voice came out rough and breathless. Because holy shit, naked Jace in a battlefield was doing things to my brain that probably constituted a medical emergency. “Just a bite on my shoulder. Dad’s the one who—”

Jace’s arms wrapped around me before I could finish, pulling me against his chest with desperate relief. The contact sent heat racing through my veins despite the circumstances—warm skin, solid muscle, that distinctive scent of sandalwood and cedar now mixed with adrenaline and righteous fury.

“When I heard you scream on that phone,” he murmured against my hair, voice rough with emotion, “I thought—fuck, Eli, I thought I’d lost you.”

“Takes more than discount Bagheera to finish me off,” I replied, allowing myself exactly three seconds to melt into his embrace before the reality of our situation crashed back. “But Jace, there are more—”

A thunderous roar echoed from the forest—not feral, but commanding, authoritative.

Paul’s darker panther form burst into the clearing, his compact but sturdy build immediately recognizable.

Behind him came Ray’s remaining security team in their panther forms, moving with coordinated precision despite their battle wounds.

“Paul!” Jace called, relief evident in his voice. Without hesitation, he scooped Dad’s unconscious form from the truck with careful strength, then gently placed him across Paul’s broad back. Dad’s limp body settled there like Paul had done this maneuver a thousand times.

“Get him to the hospital!” I shouted, my enhanced hearing picking up Dad’s weak but steady heartbeat. “He’s lost a lot of blood!”

Paul nodded once, then let out a commanding bark that had Ray’s team immediately responding.

Ray’s dark panther form, coat matted with blood but movements still strong, already had Mike’s unconscious human form secured on his back.

Two other panthers from his team flanked him, carrying Sarah and another injured team member who’d shifted back to human form for easier transport.

Paul took off through the forest, his powerful strides eating up distance as he carried my father toward safety and medical care. Behind him, Ray’s panthers followed in formation, moving with military precision despite their injuries.

“Thank you,” I whispered, some of the crushing weight on my chest easing. Dad would get help. Paul would make sure of it.

Suddenly, more roars echoed from the forest—multiple roars, getting closer by the second.

“Shit,” Jace snarled, already pushing me behind him as his body began shifting again. “Stay behind me. Do not fucking move from this spot.”

“Wait, you’re shifting again?” I protested, even as I admired the view of his back muscles rippling under golden skin. “I was just getting used to conversation Jace!”

His panther form exploded back into existence just as fifteen more ferals burst into the clearing, streaming from the forest in waves of matted fur and mindless aggression.

Jace’s roar shook the trees as he launched himself at the largest group, his midnight form a blur of lethal grace. Ten ferals converged on him at once, and even with his legendary skills, he was immediately overwhelmed by sheer numbers.

“Jace!” I shouted, watching him disappear beneath a writhing mass of diseased fur and snapping jaws. Blood sprayed as claws found purchase, but I couldn’t tell whose.

Three ferals broke away from the main fight, their vacant yellow eyes locking on me with predatory hunger. They moved with that same jerky, uncoordinated gait, but they were fast—faster than anything that broken should be.

“Oh, come on!” I protested, raising my crystal claws as they spread out to surround me. “Can’t a guy catch a break after nearly being truck food?”

The first one charged with foam streaming from its muzzle. I slashed with my transformed hand, crystalline claws parting fur and flesh like paper. Blood sprayed in a crimson arc as it reeled back with a shriek.

“Yeah, that’s right!” I snarled, adrenaline making me reckless. “I’ve got magic manicure powers, asshole!”

But something else was happening. That cold power surging through my veins intensified, spreading outward from my core like glacial fire. My spine tingled, and I felt something fundamental shifting inside my skull.

“What the—” I ducked under a swipe from the second feral, then gasped as pressure built behind my ears. The sensation was like my bones were melting and reforming, but instead of pain, there was relief—like finally stretching muscles that had been cramped for years.

The transformation was unlike anything I’d ever imagined.

My regular ears shifted upward, elongating into tufted points that emerged from the top of my head with a sensation that was part agony, part ecstasy.

The new appendages were incredibly sensitive, picking up sounds I’d never been able to hear—the whisper of wind through individual leaves, the distinct heartbeats of every creature in the clearing, the subtle difference between fear-sweat and rage-musk.