Page 29 of Marked by Alphas 2: Claimed (The Blood Moon Chronicle #2)
BLACKWOOD brOTHERS
T he Blackwood ancestral mansion loomed over the surrounding forest like a cathedral to old money, its Victorian spires and turrets piercing the afternoon sky.
Inside, the drawing room exemplified centuries of wealth and power—hand-carved mahogany paneling imported from England, Persian rugs worth more than most homes, and oil portraits of stern-faced Blackwood ancestors glaring down from gilded frames.
Xander Blackwood sat in a leather wingback chair, his posture perfect as he nodded at precisely timed intervals. His father, Edmund Blackwood, paced before the stone fireplace, his once-commanding presence now slightly diminished by age, though no less intimidating.
“The Whitmores’ territorial claims are laughable,” Edmund said, his aristocratic accent sharpened by disdain. “Their bloodline has been suspect since the Great War. I recall their grandfather actually married a beta.” He spat the word like poison.
Uncle Lawrence, a gray-haired replica of Edmund with deeper wrinkles and a more pronounced stoop, nodded gravely. “Disgra ceful. And now they wonder why their pack weakens with each generation.”
Xander maintained his expression of polite interest, though his thoughts drifted far from the tedious conversation.
Across the room, James lounged against a bookcase, arms crossed over his broad chest, while Liam had claimed an antique settee, his fingers never ceasing their movement across his tablet screen.
“The council grows soft,” Uncle Reginald wheezed from his chair by the window. “In my day, mixed bloodlines knew their place. Now they speak of representation. Representation!” His gnarled hand trembled with indignation as he reached for his brandy.
This is the fourth time he’s told that story in the last hour, James’ voice sounded in Xander’s mind through their pack bond, his mental tone dripping with boredom.
Xander’s lips twitched slightly, the only outward sign of his brother’s comment. Fifth, actually. You missed the abbreviated version while fetching Uncle Lawrence’s medication.
If I have to hear about the glory days of pure bloodlines one more time, I might actually die of boredom, Liam chimed in, not looking up from his tablet. Our wolves are literally falling asleep.
“Alexander.” Edmund’s sharp voice cut through their silent conversation. “You’ve been uncharacteristically quiet. What are your thoughts on the Silvermoon Pack’s proposal for the upcoming council meeting?”
Without missing a beat, Xander straightened imperceptibly.
“The Silvermoon proposal is predictably shortsighted, Father. Their focus on traditional alliances ignores the shifting dynamics among the western territories.” He delivered the statement with perfect conviction, despite having no idea what proposal they were discussing.
Edmund nodded approvingly. “Precisely. Victoria Ashworth sent another letter this morning. Her father is pressing for a formal introduction at the Equinox Gathering. ”
Another desperate marriage proposal, Xander shared through the bond. As if binding our failing genetics to theirs would save either bloodline.
She’s what, the fifth pure-blood female thrown at you this year? James’ internal voice carried his amusement.
Seventh, Liam corrected. I’ve been keeping a spreadsheet.
Uncle Lawrence cleared his throat. “The Ashworths have maintained impeccable breeding records for sixteen generations. Their alpha female line remains unbroken.”
“And yet their pack has dwindled to less than twenty wolves,” Edmund said with a dismissive wave. “Still, their lineage is beyond reproach. Alexander, you will consider her proposal seriously.”
“Of course, Father,” Xander replied smoothly. I’d rather mate with a cactus.
James coughed to cover his laugh, earning a sharp glance from Edmund.
“The Cedar Grove Harvest Festival begins tomorrow,” Uncle Reginald announced, changing the subject. “The Stones will be flaunting their so-called prosperity, no doubt. Nouveau riche upstarts.”
Edmund’s face darkened. “Their acceptance of that quarter-blood abomination is an insult to every pure bloodline. If your grandfather were alive?—”
Here we go again. Liam sighed mentally. Grandfather would have smited them with his pure-blood lightning, we know.
Suddenly, Liam sat up straighter, his eyes widening slightly as he stared at his screen. A small, predatory smile curved his lips as he swiped through several images. Without a word, he rose gracefully and crossed to James, tilting the tablet toward him.
James’ expression shifted instantly, boredom replaced by intense focus. His amber eyes gleamed as a matching smile spread across his face .
Look what our intriguing little prize is up to, Liam purred through their bond.
Xander maintained his attentive facade as his brothers approached, though his wolf stirred with sudden interest. When the tablet was discreetly passed to him, he understood immediately.
On the screen was Luke Kim’s latest social media update—a photo of Luke and Kai positioned in front of a picturesque display of autumn flowers with a golden retriever at his side.
Another showed two gold-leaf honey lavender lattes arranged for the perfect photo, with the caption: “Small-town charm, harvest festival, why is everything so extra?”
Several more photos showed festival preparation scenes—strings of lights being hung, the ancient oak tree in the square being decorated, the same golden dog charming treats from various vendors, and even a crystal candied apple display that Luke had apparently found fascinating.
He’s going to be at the festival tomorrow. Liam’s internal voice practically vibrated with excitement. And where Luke goes…
Our little quarter-wolf won’t be far behind, James finished, his wolf surging forward at the thought.
Xander handed the tablet back to Liam, his ice-blue eyes momentarily flashing silver as his wolf responded to the prospect of seeing their fascinating prey again.
“Father,” Xander said, smoothly interrupting Edmund’s tirade about declining bloodlines, “I believe we should make an appearance at the Cedar Grove Harvest Festival tomorrow.”
Edmund paused mid-sentence, surprised. “Whatever for? Those Stone upstarts?—”
“Strategic visibility,” Xander replied, his tone measured and reasonable. “The council has noted our absence from public gatherings. It creates the impression we’re withdrawing from pack politics.”
James nodded, instantly supporting his brother’s play. “The Whitmo res’ recent territorial challenge suggests others perceive weakness in our isolation.”
“A Blackwood presence would remind the lesser packs of our standing,” Liam added, tucking his tablet away. “Especially with the council representatives in attendance.”
Edmund considered this, his pale eyes narrowing. “Perhaps you’re right. A reminder of Blackwood superiority might be timely.”
“We’ll represent the family appropriately,” Xander promised, rising to his feet with fluid grace. “If you’ll excuse us, we should prepare. The proper attire for such an… event will require consideration.”
As the brothers exited the drawing room, their perfect composure held until the heavy oak door closed behind them. In the privacy of the corridor, Liam’s face split into a delighted grin.
“That was almost too easy,” he whispered, though their pack bond hummed with shared excitement.
“Father’s so obsessed with appearances, he never questions our sudden interest in public relations,” James murmured.
Xander’s lips curved into a rare smile as they ascended the grand staircase. “Prepare carefully, brothers. Tomorrow promises to be… illuminating.”
Their wolves prowled beneath their skin, hungry for another glimpse of defiant silver-green eyes and the quarter-wolf who had escaped them years ago. The Stone brothers wouldn’t be the only predators at the Harvest Festival.