Page 24 of Marked by Alphas 2: Claimed (The Blood Moon Chronicle #2)

BLACKWOOD brOTHERS

D awn painted the Olympic Peninsula in shades of steel and silver as James guided their Range Rover through winding forest roads. The morning mist clung to ancient pines like reluctant ghosts, the kind of morning that promised violence.

“The Whitmore Pack won’t last the month,” Liam announced from the back seat, sprawled across leather upholstery with his ever-present tablet. “Their alpha’s been making noise about expanding west. Into our territory.” His lips curved. “As if they could afford that particular mistake.”

Xander watched shadows dance through the trees.

Victoria Ashworth’s latest marriage proposal sat unopened in his jacket pocket, another desperate bid from a dying bloodline.

Their father, Edmund Blackwood, had been insufferable, ranting about pure-blood traditions while their pack grew weaker with each generation.

“Speaking of mistakes.” James’ knuckles, still bruised from his latest MMA fight, flexed on the steering wheel. “Our little quarter-wolf is settling in nicely at Cedar Grove. All grown up and wrapped in Stone Pack protection. ”

“Delicious irony,” Liam mused. “The very bloodline Father despises, growing stronger while we…” He gestured elegantly at nothing.

“The Stones and their claiming games.” Xander’s reflection ghosted across tinted windows. “Ten years of waiting, just to mark one hybrid.”

“Not just any hybrid.” James’ eyes met his in the rearview mirror, golden with remembered hunger.

“You should have seen him in that bookstore. No memory of that night, of course—too young to remember how close we came. But that power…” He inhaled sharply.

“It’s growing. Their marks are just feeding it. ”

“And Father still thinks pure blood is the answer.” Liam’s laugh held no humor. “While we get weaker, and that fascinating little hybrid grows stronger by the day.”

“Patience,” Xander murmured. Their wolves had been restless since James reported Kai’s return, prowling beneath their skin with increasing agitation. “The Stones aren’t the only ones who can play a long game.”

The Rover purred to a stop outside Blackwood Heights’ newest café. Their presence alone had convinced the owner to open early—the benefits of owning half the commercial real estate in town.

The scent hit them before the door even opened. Sweet lightning and wild storms, power wrapped in silk, something ancient and new all at once. Their wolves surged forward as one, suddenly alert in a way they hadn’t been in decades.

The boy who walked in was devastating. Delicate features carved with defiance, elegant eyes that seemed to shift color in the early morning light, moving with an unconscious grace that made their wolves bare their teeth.

His lean frame carried itself with natural authority despite being shorter than them, somehow managing to look down his nose at them even from below.

Mixed blood, obviously, Asian and something else that teased at their senses.

But that scent—power and potential, frustratingly just out of reach.

They’d already noticed the woman who’d entered minutes before—her prayer beads practically singing with old power. Now, watching her son’s defiant stance, the connection was obvious. But where her power felt controlled, ancient, his crackled with untamed potential.

“Get the most pretentious coffee they have,” he muttered, scanning the menu with elegant annoyance. Something about the tilt of his eyes, the sharp grace of his movements, sparked recognition in their wolves. Old magic. Older blood.

Xander caught his gaze deliberately, letting his power seep into the air between them. Lesser wolves would have shown throat immediately. This boy just glared.

“You’re in the way,” he said, and three of the most dangerous predators in the Pacific Northwest found themselves fighting unexpected smiles.

“Am I?” Xander let more power color his words.

“Yes.” Those eyes sparked with annoyance. “Some of us actually have places to be.”

“How fascinating.” Xander stepped closer, drawn by that crackling scent of untamed power. “And where might you be heading in such a hurry?”

Liam shifted to flank their prey, while James moved with casual menace to block any escape route. Their wolves purred at the tactical advantage, even as the boy’s continued defiance made them bare their teeth in delight.

“None of your—” the boy started, only to be cut off by his mother’s appearance at his side. Her prayer beads clicked ominously, each sound carrying weight beyond mere wood and string.

“Luke,” she said, and even that single word carried power. “Get us table by window. Good sight lines.”

Xander’s wolf bristled at the interruption, even as his mind catalo gued the strategic implications. The way she positioned herself, the deliberate placement of her hands—this was no ordinary protective mother. She assessed them with eyes that had seen far more than simple wolves.

“Of course, Eomma,” the boy—Luke—replied. The lack of accent in his perfect English contrasted beautifully with his mother’s lilting tone, another fascinating layer to unravel.

Liam’s eyes tracked their movement to the corner booth, his usual playful demeanor sharpening into something hungrier. James had gone dangerously still, the way he did before a particularly satisfying fight. Their wolves strained against their control, demanding they follow, claim, possess.

The foreign words drifted over to them, the meaning lost but the tone clear enough. Their wolves strained to catch every sound, fascinated by the way Luke’s voice shifted between languages. His mother’s prayer beads never stopped moving, a constant reminder of old magic.

They took their time, a predator’s patience. The café filled their usual orders without asking—Ethiopian blend for Xander, black as sin, James’ protein-rich smoothie, Liam’s ridiculous caramel concoction. But their attention never left that corner table.

Luke’s profile in the morning light was devastating.

The sun caught his eyes as he laughed at something his mother said, revealing hints of silver in their depths.

When he tilted his head back to drink his coffee, the elegant line of his throat made their wolves pace restlessly.

Even his obvious annoyance at their attention was intoxicating—the way his jaw clenched, how his fingers tightened on his cup, the slight flush that crept up his neck when he caught them staring.

“Shall we?” Liam finally suggested, his usual playful tone carrying an edge of hunger.

Up close, Luke was even more captivating.

The way he held himself—chin lifted in defiance even as his body unconsciously displa yed submission, throat exposed, head tilted just so.

Their wolves recognized the contradiction, reveled in it.

His scent was overwhelming at this distance, power and potential and something wild that made their teeth ache.

His sharp tongue only made him more appealing.

Each defiant retort, every flash of those extraordinary eyes—a bewitching mix of silver and green that seemed to shift like moonlight on forest leaves—the way he seemed immune to their usual intimidation tactics—it was intoxicating.

Even his mother’s protective presence couldn’t diminish their growing fascination.

When Luke finally walked away, he seemed to take all the warmth with him, leaving the café feeling suddenly hollow. Their wolves snarled in frustrated hunger, already missing the challenge in those silver-green eyes.

“Well,” Liam drawled, but his fingers were white-knuckled around his phone. “That was…”

“Interesting.” James’ voice held the same dangerous edge it got before his more violent matches. His wolf was closer to the surface now, agitated by Luke’s departure.

They watched Mrs. Kim throw a handful of salt from the car window—an ancient gesture of protection that would have made their father snarl about primitive magic. Xander found it oddly charming. The old ways had power, after all.

“She knows what we are,” Liam noted, already typing.

“And did you catch his name when she called him? Luke. With a Mrs. Kim…” His fingers flew across the screen, facial recognition software and data mining algorithms making quick work of the search.

Being the Blackwoods’ tech expert had its perks—including access to databases most people didn’t know existed.

“Got him. Luke Kim, twenty-two, recent business graduate from Pacific West University. And look who appears in half his social media photos.”

James leaned over, then barked out a surprised laugh. “Well, isn’ t this a delicious coincidence. Our quarter-wolf and this morning’s little spitfire are friends.” He shook his head in disbelief. “What are the odds?”

“The world of supernatural beings is surprisingly small,” Xander mused, though his eyes had sharpened with interest at this unexpected connection. “Especially when it comes to those with power.”

“Two beautiful little prizes,” Liam mused, pulling up more photos. “Though in different ways. Where Kai’s all delicate grace and hidden strength, this Luke…”

“Sharp edges and barely contained power,” Xander finished, remembering those defiant eyes. “And they’re clearly heading to Cedar Grove.”

“The Stones’ territory.” James’ smile showed teeth. “First they take our quarter-wolf, and now this… intriguing little mystery is heading straight to them.”

“Interesting timing,” Xander murmured, his wolf restless with frustrated hunger. “Speaking of territory disputes, we have an appointment with the Whitmores.”

James was already heading for the door, violent intent rolling off him in waves. Their wolves needed an outlet for this frustrated energy, and Gregory Whitmore’s pack had so thoughtfully volunteered by trying to expand into Blackwood territory.

The Range Rover purred to life, carrying three increasingly agitated predators toward the eastern border of their lands. Their wolves were restless, hungry for violence after such an unsatisfying morning.

“I do hope Greg puts up a fight,” James mused, taking a turn too fast. “After that delightful little encounter, I find myself in need of… exercise.”

“Try not to kill anyone this time,” Liam said, barely looking up from his phone as his fingers danced across the screen.

He was already creating multiple shadow accounts to follow Luke’s social media, downloading every photo he could find.

His thumb traced the curve of Luke’s defiant smile in one particular image.

“The council frowns on that sort of thing.”

Xander caught the obsessive gleam in his youngest brother’s eyes, recognizing the way Liam’s fingers caressed the screen.

Their tech genius had always been the most…

fixated of the three when something caught his interest. “Try not to get caught stalking him online either. We don’t need the Stones’ attention just yet. ”

“Please,” Liam scoffed, though his eyes never left the stream of photos he was saving. “As if they could trace anything back to me.” His wolf rumbled in approval as another photo loaded—Luke caught mid-laugh, those silver-green eyes dancing with mischief.

The car filled with their collective frustration, their wolves pacing restlessly beneath their skin. James’ knuckles were white on the steering wheel, and even Xander’s perfect composure showed cracks.

Xander adjusted his cuffs, ice-blue eyes reflecting silver as his wolf pushed closer to the surface. “The Whitmores need a simple reminder about territorial boundaries. Though if Gregory and his pack choose to resist our… correction…”

The morning mist parted before them like a curtain, revealing the disputed border where the Whitmore Pack had been getting increasingly bold.

Their wolves surged forward, desperate for violence, for any outlet to burn away the maddening memory of prey that had slipped through their grasp.

Luke’s scent—defiance and power and something unnaturally enticing—still clung to them, driving their wolves into a frenzy of frustrated possession.

Poor Gregory Whitmore. He had no idea what mood he’d caught them in.