Page 15 of Marked by Alphas 2: Claimed (The Blood Moon Chronicle #2)

I t had be en a week and a half since the video call with Luke and Imo, and I was starting to understand why the Stone library had so many books about wolf stamina.

Turns out, training to be even a quarter-wolf required more exercise than I’d done in my entire college career.

My supernatural metabolism was burning through energy faster than I could keep up with, and the brothers seemed determined to push my newfound endurance to its limits.

“Ready for training?” Derek’s voice made me jump. He was leaning against my doorframe in workout clothes that were probably designed specifically to torture me.

“Define ‘ready,’” I said.

“Just the normal basics today,” Derek said, but his eyes did that scanning thing all three brothers had perfected—checking for any sign I might be tired or uncomfortable. They’d been extra protective since the whole quarter-wolf revelation.

I’d noticed Derek and his team heading out more frequently for their “patrols” lately. They’d leave in their fleet of black SUVs, looking all tactical and intimidating, then return hours later wearing expressions that made me glad I wasn’t their target.

I didn’t ask. Some questions were better left unanswered, especially when they involved Derek looking that satisfied.

“Come on,” Derek gestured toward the manor’s private gym. “Let’s see if we can beat yesterday’s mile time.”

I groaned but followed. Over a week of basic training, and I was already learning that werewolves had very different definitions of “taking it easy.”

The gym was state of the art, because of course it was. Everything in Stone Manor looked like it belonged in a luxury resort brochure.

“Just five miles today,” Derek said, like that was a totally normal warm-up.

I nodded and stepped onto the treadmill, pretending this was all completely fine. Just a regular morning workout with my supernatural mate-slash-drill sergeant. Nothing weird about that at all.

The others seemed to think I was handling the whole ‘surprise, you’re part wolf’ thing remarkably well.

And on the surface, maybe I was. I showed up for training, listened to Marcus’ pack history lessons, let Caleb explain supernatural politics.

I smiled and nodded and tried not to flinch when they casually mentioned things like territory wars or mating ceremonies.

But at night, lying in my ridiculously comfortable bed in my ridiculously perfect room, I’d stare at the ceiling and wonder what my mom would think.

If she’d be disappointed that I hadn’t run screaming.

If she’d understand why I was still here, trying to learn about a world she’d spent my whole life hiding from me.

“Focus on your breathing.” Derek’s voice pulled me back to the present. He was watching me with that intense alpha stare that m eant he’d caught my momentary distraction. “You’re thinking too much.”

I was thinking exactly the right amount, thank you very much. Like about how a few weeks ago my biggest worry was paying off student loans, and now I was apparently part of an ancient bloodline that made other wolves want to either claim me or kill me.

But I just smiled and picked up my pace. “Just wondering if werewolf cardio comes with supernatural endurance or if I’m going to die on this treadmill.”

Derek’s laugh echoed through the gym. “You’re doing fine. Your stamina’s already improving.”

Right. Because apparently being quarter-wolf meant my body was “adapting.” To what, I wasn’t entirely sure, and I was too afraid to ask. Just like I was too afraid to ask about a lot of things lately.

Storm chose that moment to flop dramatically by the treadmill, giving me his best ‘you’ve been exercising for hours’ face. It had been fifteen minutes.

“Your dog’s a terrible influence,” I told Derek, grateful for the distraction.

“He’s not usually this lazy,” Derek said, nudging Storm with his foot. “Someone’s been spoiling him.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I lied, thinking of the treats I’d snuck him at breakfast.

The gym door opened, and Caleb sauntered in, looking unfairly perfect in designer workout gear. “Just checking on my favorite trainee!”

“You mean spying,” I translated between breaths.

“Monitoring,” he corrected with a grin. “Marcus sent me to make sure Derek isn’t pushing you too hard.”

“Marcus is in a council meeting,” Derek pointed out.

“Which is exactly why he sent me. He’s multitasking.”

I focused on my breathing and pretended this was all normal. Just t hree overprotective alpha werewolves taking turns watching me run on a treadmill. Nothing strange about that at all.

Maybe if I kept pretending long enough, I’d actually start believing it.

“Time for weights,” Derek announced after I’d survived the cardio portion without embarrassing myself too badly.

“Already?” Caleb raised an eyebrow at his brother. “He just finished five miles.”

“And his recovery time is improving,” Derek pointed out, sounding annoyingly pleased. “Quarter-wolf metabolism is kicking in.”

They kept saying things like that—quarter-wolf this, supernatural adaptation that. Like my body changing was something to celebrate rather than quietly panic about.

“Light weights today,” Derek decided, leading me to the weight room. “Focus on form.”

I caught my reflection in the mirror wall as I picked up the dumbbells.

Over a week of intense training was changing me in ways that still felt surreal.

According to Dr. White’s last checkup, my “accelerated metabolism” meant I was adapting about ten times faster than a normal human.

Just another fun surprise in the ‘Congratulations, You’re Part Wolf’ gift basket that I was trying very hard not to panic about.

“Keep your core tight,” Derek instructed, adjusting my form with careful hands. “There you go.”

Caleb sprawled on a nearby bench, supposedly spotting but mostly just offering commentary. “You’re filling out nicely, little mate.”

I nearly dropped the weights. “I’m literally dying here, and you’re checking me out?”

“Multitasking.” He grinned. “Besides, you’re getting that dancer’s build—lean muscle, perfect proportion.

Much better than looking like you bench-press cars for fun like some people .

” He flexed dramatically, making me roll my eyes.

“And in a few weeks, you’ll have abs that would make fitness models jealous. ”

“If I survive that long,” I muttered but kept going. The weights did feel lighter than they had on day one, which was either supernatural genetics or pure desperation.

“Trust the process,” Derek said, his hands steady on my shoulders as he guided me through another set. “Your body knows what it’s doing, even if your mind’s still catching up.”

That was the problem, wasn’t it? My body was adapting to this new reality way faster than my brain. Every morning I woke up feeling stronger, faster, more… different. And every morning I had to pretend that was totally fine and not at all terrifying.

“Last set,” Derek encouraged, though I was pretty sure he’d said that three sets ago. “Then we’ll work on resistance training.”

“You’re evil,” I informed him but finished the reps anyway.

We’d been at it for hours. Storm, who’d appointed himself my unofficial cheerleader, wagged his tail encouragingly from his spot by the door.

I was halfway through what felt like my thousandth set when Marcus’ voice made me jump. “Looking good, little mate.” He was leaning against the doorframe.

“Taking a break from the council meeting?” I asked.

“Technically still in it.” He smiled. “Though I stepped out when the elders started their third hour of… territorial discussions.”

“Let me guess.” Caleb grinned. “They’re nervous about our recent activities?”

Derek’s satisfied smirk told me exactly whose activities were causing concern. I’d seen his team gearing up for another “patrol” this morning, all tactical equipment and contained violence.

“The council is… concerned about maintaining regional stabilit y,” Marcus said diplomatically, though his eyes held the same satisfied gleam as his brothers.

“Less gossip, more training,” Derek cut in, but I caught the proud look he exchanged with Marcus.

My newly awakened instincts might still be confusing, but I knew exactly why the Knox Pack was being “dealt with.” Between my developing supernatural senses and the snippets of conversation I’d overheard from Derek’s security team, it was clear the Stone Force wasn’t letting the Knox go unpunished.

The guys always returned from their “patrols” looking particularly satisfied, casually dropping comments about “reinforcing boundaries” and “teaching Knox wolves some manners.” Whatever Derek’s team was doing, he was definitely enjoying it.

“Here.” Marcus stepped forward, adjusting my stance with gentle hands. “Keep your back straight, shoulders down. There.”

And now I had three alpha werewolves micromanaging my workout. Perfect.

“I had plans this morning, you know,” I grumbled but let them position me like a life-sized doll. “I miss actually doing things. Being outside. Working at the bookstore.”

“Soon,” Marcus promised, his tone gentler than usual. “Once you can shift and defend yourself.”

“Hey, if you’re missing the bookstore that much, you could always reorganize our library between training sessions,” Caleb suggested. “It’s probably bigger than Stone & Page anyway.”

“It’s not the same thing,” I said, but he had a point. The manor’s library was impressive, and organizing books would at least feel familiar. “Though your current system is terrible.”

“There’s nothing wrong with organizing by acquisition date,” Marcus defended, but his lips twitched.