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

“—is perfect. Though perhaps…” He tasted a spoonful. “The shorter fermentation does bring out the fresh cabbage notes…”

The sound of footsteps on the stairs announced the return of Marcus and Derek, now properly clothed in what I suspected was thousand-dollar casual wear. Their hair was damp from quick showers, and they looked unfairly gorgeous.

Marcus took the seat opposite me while Derek claimed the chair on my other side, effectively boxing me in.

They dug into their breakfast with the kind of focused intensity that reminded me they were, in fact, part wolf.

Jorge’s kimchi fried rice disappeared at an alarming rate, accompanied by several helpings of eggs and bacon.

I tried not to stare, but it was like watching a nature documentary about apex predators at a breakfast buffet.

“What?” Derek asked, catching my wide-eyed look between bites.

“Nothing,” I said quickly. “Just… appreciating your healthy appetites.”

“We burned a lot of energy this morning,” Marcus explained, reaching for more eggs.

“Right. During your workout. Which you definitely needed to do shirtless. For reasons.”

Caleb’s fingers tightened slightly on my neck. “They’re showing off.”

“We’re not—” Derek started, but Maria cut him off by dropping another platter of food in front of him.

“Eat first, deny later,” she ordered, and even the mighty Stone brothers knew better than to argue .

When the feeding frenzy finally wound down, Marcus dabbed his mouth with a napkin and glanced at me. “I believe you had some questions for us, little mate?”

I swallowed hard, suddenly very aware of being surrounded by three very intense, very attractive wolf shifters.

“Yeah, just a few hundred or so. Starting with why you all keep calling me ‘little mate’ and ending with what exactly happened last night when I went full ninja warrior on those other wolves.”

“Perhaps we should move this conversation somewhere more comfortable,” he suggested, noting how I was starting to fidget in my chair. “The living room?”

“Right,” I agreed, eyeing the plush sofas visible through the doorway. “Because nothing says ‘casual supernatural revelations’ like designer furniture.”

Caleb helped me up, his hand steady at my lower back. “You’re still hurting.”

“I’m fine,” I insisted, then promptly stumbled. Three pairs of hands reached for me at once. “Okay, maybe I’m slightly less than fine. But I can walk!”

“Of course you can,” Derek said, sounding amused. Then he simply scooped me up.

“This is becoming a habit,” I grumbled but didn’t fight it. My muscles were secretly grateful for the reprieve.

The dogs followed us into the living room, arranging themselves around the sofa where Derek deposited me with surprising gentleness.

As the brothers settled around me—Marcus in an armchair, Caleb and Derek flanking me on the sofa—I couldn’t help but feel like I was about to get the world’s most complicated “talk.”

“So,” I said, pulling my legs up under me, “who wants to go first?”

“Where would you like to start?” Caleb asked gently. “Your childhood? Your mother? Or farther back?”

I pressed my fingers to my temples, already feeling a headac he building. “I have a feeling this is like trying to summarize the entire history of the world in one paragraph. How about just give me the short version first? Before my brain explodes from information overload?”

Marcus leaned forward in his chair, his ice-blue eyes intent. “The simplest version? Supernatural beings—specifically shifters like us—have existed alongside humans for millennia. We’ve always been here, hiding in plain sight, protecting our territories and keeping our secrets.”

“And I’m… what? Some kind of werewolf catnip?” I gestured at myself. “Because last night was definitely not normal, even by supernatural standards, I’m guessing.”

“You’re special,” Caleb said, his fingers resuming their soothing pattern on my neck. “More than you know.”

“Special like ‘you tried your best’ special, or special like ‘ancient destiny’ special? Because one of those is significantly more concerning than the other.”

The brothers exchanged another loaded look, and my heart sank.

“Oh no. Please tell me there’s no destiny involved.

Because I’ve seen how that story goes, and my skill set tops out at ‘can successfully order takeout without having an anxiety attack.’ I’m aiming for invisible nobody who works a boring office job and whose biggest adventure is finding a parking spot at the supermarket.

I can barely manage my student loans—I’m not qualified for supernatural responsibility. ”

Derek’s laugh rumbled through the sofa. “No chosen one status, little mate. Just…”

“Special,” Marcus finished. “You carry First Pack blood.”

I blinked. “First Pack? Look, I know I’m half-Asian, but I didn’t think Chinese mythology included werewolves. Aren’t you guys more of a European thing? Like, moonlight and brooding castles and an unhealthy obsession with leather pants? ”

The brothers exchanged amused looks. “The First Pack blood comes from your father’s side,” Marcus explained gently.

My heart did that thing where it forgets how to beat properly.

My father. The grand mystery of my existence, the topic that could turn my mother from smiling to devastated in half a second.

I’d learned young that asking about him was like poking an open wound—it only caused pain and never gave answers.

Eventually, I’d created my own narrative: either he’d abandoned us—in which case, screw him—or he’d died—in which case…

well, that hurt differently. After a while, not knowing seemed easier than either truth.

“He died,” Marcus said softly, “before you were born. He was a guardian of the old bloodlines, and in him ran the purest strain of First Pack blood. Those golden flecks in your eyes? That’s his legacy.”

I resisted the urge to cover my eyes. The weird gold flecks that Mom always blamed on “bad lighting”—turned out they were just another supernatural souvenir. Fantastic.

“They’re beautiful,” Caleb murmured, his thumb brushing my temple. “Especially that elegant curve at the corners.”

“Great,” I said, trying to ignore how his touch made my skin tingle. “So not only am I part wolf, but I’m apparently some kind of genetic supernatural jackpot? Any other surprises? Secret dragon powers? Ancient prophecies? An unexplained urge to howl?”

“Your First Pack blood,” Marcus continued, his voice taking on that professor-giving-a-lecture tone, “makes you uniquely powerful. Other wolves can sense it, even if they don’t understand what they’re sensing.”

“Like supernatural catnip. Or wolf-nip. Whatever.” I paused. “Wait, is that why those guys last night were so… homicidal? Murderous? Kill-happy?”

“Partly,” Derek growled, his arm tightening around me. “Mating with someone of First Pack blood can increase a pack’s power significantly. The original werewolves weren’t pure wolves—they were a combination of different magical bloodlines. Each brought unique abilities, strengths.”

“So I’m basically a power-up? Like some kind of supernatural energy drink?

” I rubbed my temples. “Speaking of mating—and boy, that’s a word I never thought I’d say outside of nature documentaries—what exactly does that mean?

Because you three keep throwing it around like it’s totally normal to call someone ‘little mate.’”

The brothers exchanged one of their telepathic looks. Seriously, did they practice those?

“A mate,” Marcus explained carefully, “is our perfect match. Our other half—or in this case, quarters.”

“Wait.” I held up a hand. “Are you saying you’re like… my husbands? All three of you? Because I’m pretty sure that’s not legal in any state, and I haven’t even filed my taxes for last year yet.”

Caleb’s laugh was warm against my neck. “Technically, it’s unprecedented. But yes, little mate. We’re yours, and you’re ours.”

My face felt hot enough to fry an egg. “So we’re going to… um… do mate stuff?” Oh God, did I actually just say that out loud? Someone please push me off a cliff.

Caleb’s grin turned wicked. “Eager, are we?”

“That doesn’t explain why you keep running away every time things get… heated,” I muttered, remembering last night’s frustrating encounter. “If we’re mates and all that, why the whole hot-and-cold routine? Because let me tell you, that’s getting really old.”

The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees as the brothers tensed around me. Even the dogs lifted their heads, sensing the shift in mood.

“That,” Marcus said gravely, “is a more complicated matter.”

“Of course it is.” I sighed. “Because nothing in my life can ever b e simple anymore. Not even my apparently polyamorous supernatural love life. You know what? Let’s shelve the complicated mate stuff for now,” I said, waving my hands like I could physically push away the tension.

“Because my brain can only handle one earth-shattering revelation at a time, and I really want to know about my father. And my mom. How did she even get mixed up in all…” I gestured vaguely at the supernatural soap opera my life had become. “…this?”

Marcus’ expression softened, though something dark flickered in his eyes.

“Your father was Reece Walker. He was one of the last pure First Pack descendants, a powerful but peaceful alpha. Your mother, Sarah Chen…” He paused, choosing his words carefully.

“He met her while protecting her from a rogue pack.”

“Protecting her?” My stomach did an uncomfortable flip. “Why would a rogue pack be after my mom?”

“She was aware of our world,” Derek explained, his voice tight with old anger. “She’d discovered some truths about the supernatural, and certain packs… they didn’t like that.”

“So my dad protected her,” I said slowly, “and they fell in love? Like some kind of supernatural bodyguard romance?”

Caleb’s fingers tightened slightly on my neck. “It wasn’t that simple.”