Page 25 of Marked by Alphas 2: Claimed (The Blood Moon Chronicle #2)

I was definitely not pacing. The fact that I’d worn a path on the carpet was purely coincidental. My phone, practically glued to my hand, showed Luke’s increasingly frustrated texts from the past few hours.

Still alive. GPS having breakdown.

Roads make no sense???

Lost signal again, if murdered blame woods.

Eomma doing weird chants, send help.

[Message not delivered]

[Message not delivered]

Finally found signal. Your cottage better be worth this.

[Message not delivered]

Great. My best friend was probably lost in supernatural wolf territory while his mom performed exorcisms from the passenger seat. Just another totally normal Saturday morning in my new life as a quarter-wolf disaster.

“Kai,” Marcus said, not even trying to hide his amusement, “the carpet isn’t going to survive much more of your… whatever this is.”

“I’m not doing anything,” I protested, even as I checked my phone for the millionth time. The last thing I needed was three overprotective alpha wolves witnessing my slow descent into best-friend-induced panic.

All three dogs suddenly perked up, their heads turning toward the driveway in perfect sync. Because apparently even the supposedly normal pets in this house had to be supernaturally coordinated.

“They’re here!” I nearly dropped my phone in excitement, then froze. “Oh God, they’re actually here. Why did I think this was a good idea? My supernatural disaster meeting my normal disaster—” Though honestly, with Imo involved, ‘normal’ might be pushing it.

“Normal might be stretching it,” Caleb grinned, appearing beside me like the mind-reading menace he was. “Johnson says your friend’s mother has enough protective charms in their car to ward off an army.”

We watched as Luke’s luxury car followed Johnson’s SUV up the final stretch of the driveway, something sparkly—and definitely magical—swinging from their rearview mirror.

Even from here, I could see Luke’s determined expression as he navigated behind Johnson’s vehicle.

He had his ‘someone better explain what the hell is going on’ face on. I was so dead.

“Oh no,” I muttered as all three dogs bounded down the front steps. “Shadow, Storm, Scout, don’t you dare?—”

Too late. The massive wolf-dogs had already formed an enthusiastic welcoming committee, tails wagging with enough force to constitute a weather event. Because clearly what this moment needed was three enormous not-quite-wolves greeting my best friend like oversized puppies on steroids.

Luke emerged first, looking like he’d survived quite the morning already. The dogs immediately surrounded him, sniffing with intense interest. Probably reporting directly back to their alpha owners, the traitors.

Imo stepped out in her formal hanbok, prayer beads clicking musica lly. She paused, her eyes sweeping over the manor with an expression that shifted from slight alarm to deep approval. “Oh my… such strong house. Many wolf spirits! Very old, very powerful protection.”

She spotted me and practically flew up the steps, wrapping me in a fierce hug that smelled of temple incense and home. I tried not to tear up like a complete idiot, but it had been weeks since anyone had hugged me with that particular mix of fierce protection and exasperated love that was pure Imo.

“Too skinny!” Imo declared, holding me at arm’s length.

“These wolves not feeding you enough?” She shot an accusatory look at the brothers, who somehow managed to look both amused and slightly cowed by this tiny woman in traditional silk.

Ha. Served them right. Even alpha werewolves were no match for Imo in full protective mode.

“Maria and Jorge stuff me like a Thanksgiving turkey,” I said, but Imo was already pulling out what looked suspiciously like Tupperware containers from her endless bag.

“Brought special rice cakes. Good for growing wolf.” She paused, studying the manor again with the same intense focus she used on particularly troublesome spirits in her shop.

“Many spirits here. Very strong. Very… protective.” Her eyes narrowed at the west wing.

“That area needs cleansing. Too much aggressive energy.”

Derek’s eye twitched. “That’s my wing.”

“Exactly,” Imo nodded sagely, while Maria tried to hide her laugh behind a cough. I didn’t even try to hide my snicker. Derek’s face was worth every minute of anxiety-induced carpet wear.

“Please don’t let her cleanse your weapons room,” Luke called out, still trying to maintain dignity while being thoroughly investigated by three enormous dogs.

“Last time she ‘cleansed’ my room, I couldn’t find anything for weeks.

Everyt hing had to be ‘properly aligned with the energy flow’ or whatever. ”

“That was for your own good.” Imo sniffed, then brightened as she caught sight of something over my shoulder. “Ah! Strong ancestor spirits here. Very old, very protective. Some watching from kitchen.”

Johnson and his team had started unloading what looked like half of Imo’s shop from the car. Boxes of herbs, more Tupperware, bags that clinked suspiciously—please God, not more bells. And was that?—

“Is that a ceremonial sword?” Marcus asked, eyeing a wrapped bundle. Because of course Imo brought a sword. Why wouldn’t she bring a sword to a werewolf manor? Totally normal housewarming gift.

“For emergencies,” Luke and Imo said in perfect unison, then shared a look that made me deeply concerned about what constituted an “emergency” in their household. Though considering my life lately, maybe a ceremonial sword wasn’t the worst idea.

Johnson’s team continued unloading an impressive array of boxes and bags while Anna rushed to help organize the incoming feast. “These need to go in the fridge,” Luke directed, handling a cooler with careful reverence. “Halmoni somehow got real hanwoo beef through customs. Don’t ask me how.”

“Halmoni has ways,” Imo said mysteriously, then brightened as Jorge emerged from the kitchen. “Ah! Finally, we meet in person!”

I watched in fascination as Jorge practically tripped over himself rushing to help Imo with her containers. After a week of watching them flirt over video chat and exchange recipes, seeing them together in person was something else entirely.

“Welcome to Stone Manor,” Jorge managed, looking completely smitten as Imo started pulling out packages of Korean sweets and various banchan containers. “I’ve been looking forward to trying your special recipes.”

“Brought everything we discussed. Red bean buns. And japchae. And—” She paused, frowning at a particular container. “This kimchi might be too spicy for wolves. Maybe start with the mild one…”

“I’m sure we can handle spicy food,” Derek said, looking mildly offended. Poor, sweet, delusional Derek. He had no idea what he was getting into. Imo’s “mild” kimchi could strip paint.

Luke and I shared a knowing look. “Your funeral,” he said, and I had to bite back a laugh. The mighty alpha wolves were about to meet their match in fermented cabbage form.

“Come, come. You must be tired from the drive,” Maria said warmly from behind me.

Before anyone could move, I finally broke free of my frozen state and practically tackled Luke in a hug.

After weeks of only phone calls and texts, after that intense conversation where I’d dropped the whole “surprise, I’m part werewolf” bomb, having him here felt like a piece of home clicking back into place.

“Missed you too, disaster,” Luke muttered, hugging back just as tight.

We eventually pulled apart, and Luke gave me his patented ‘we’ll talk about this mess later’ look that I’d seen way too often during college. Some things never changed, even when everything else had.

“Oh no,” I whispered as Imo headed toward the kitchen, already pulling out more containers. “Jorge’s kitchen is about to be reorganized, isn’t it?”

“Let’s move to the living room,” Maria suggested smoothly, heading off any potential kitchen invasion. “Much more comfortable there, and we can have coffee while everything gets settled.”

The living room, with its wall of windows overlooking the gardens, quickly filled with the controlled chaos of family gather ing.

Anna arranged fresh pastries on vintage plates while Jorge brought out coffee in delicate cups.

Imo immediately began adding her own contributions—sweet red bean buns, hotteok , and what looked like three different types of rice cakes.

“These are beautiful,” Anna exclaimed, examining the intricate patterns on the rice cakes. “Did you make them yourself?”

“Family recipe.” Imo nodded approvingly at Anna’s careful handling. “Very good for protection. Also delicious with coffee.”

The dogs stationed themselves strategically around the room, employing their most pitiful expressions. Scout, the most shameless, rested his chin on Luke’s knee.

“Don’t you dare,” I warned as Luke’s hand twitched toward a pastry. “They’ve already had breakfast. Jorge will kill us if we spoil their appetite before lunch.”

“Speaking of lunch,” Maria interjected smoothly, “Jorge is planning something special. But for dinner…” She glanced at the impressive array of Korean ingredients still being unloaded. “Perhaps a combination?”

I watched the scene unfold with a mix of amusement and relief. Here was my chosen family meeting my… well, whatever the brothers were—mates? boyfriends? alpha overlords with control issues?—and somehow the world hadn’t imploded. Yet.

“Korean BBQ, actually,” Luke chimed in with a grin that was definitely too smug for someone who’d just survived a road trip with a shamanic GPS.

“That’s why we brought all the hanwoo beef Halmeoni insisted on sending with us.

It’s got a shelf life, and apparently, it’s criminal to let it go to waste. ”