Page 37 of Marked by Alphas 2: Claimed (The Blood Moon Chronicle #2)

T he manor door swung open before we reached it, Maria’s worried face appearing in the warm light. Her expression cycled through concern, confusion, and then—worst of all—absolute delight when she spotted me cradled in Marcus’ arms.

“Dios mío!” she exclaimed, hands flying to her cheeks. “ Qué precioso (how beautiful)!”

Great. I’d been demoted from “person” to “precioso” in record time. Just what my wounded dignity needed—to be cooed at like a newborn kitten when I was having an existential crisis about being permanently furry.

“He shifted but can’t shift back yet,” Marcus explained, carrying me into the foyer.

Maria’s eyes widened. “Cannot shift back? But why?”

“First shifts can be complicated,” Derek said, his tone suggesting this wasn’t entirely unexpected. “His body needs time to adjust.”

“Time to adjust?” I wanted to scream. “I have opposable thumbs to reclaim! A life that doesn’t involve eating from bowls on the floor! ”

But all that came out was a pathetic whine that only made Maria’s expression soften further.

“ Pobrecito (poor thing),” she murmured, reaching out to stroke my head. “Don’t worry, we will take care of you until you change back.”

That was exactly what I was afraid of.

The commotion drew Anna from the living room, where she’d been arranging flowers. Her dusting cloth dropped to the floor as she spotted me.

“Is that…?” Her voice rose to a pitch that probably shattered windows in the next county.

“Kai,” Caleb confirmed, looking far too amused for someone whose mate was experiencing a supernatural catastrophe. “First shift.”

“He’s so TINY!” Anna squealed, abandoning all pretense of professionalism to rush over. “Look at his little paws! And those markings! He’s like a baby fox!”

And just like that, I was surrounded by humans treating me like the world’s most exotic puppy. Maria was speaking rapid Spanish that I couldn’t follow, while Anna looked like she might actually combust from the effort of not squeezing me.

“I must tell Jorge!” Maria declared, already hurrying toward the kitchen. “He will prepare special meal for wolf-form shifting!”

The dogs, apparently sensing the excitement, came bounding in from wherever they’d been lurking. Three massive canine faces suddenly appeared at eye level, sniffing curiously at the new addition to their pack. Shadow gave a low whine before tentatively licking my face.

Ugh. Dog slobber. I tried to growl in protest, but it came out as a pathetic yip that only encouraged the others. Soon I was being thoroughly “cleaned” by three enthusiastic tongues while the brothers laughed .

“They’re welcoming you to the pack,” Derek explained, not bothering to hide his amusement.

Easy for him to say. He wasn’t drowning in canine saliva.

“Alright, enough,” Marcus finally intervened, lifting me higher. “He’s had a long day.”

The kitchen door swung open, Jorge emerging with a wooden spoon in hand, his eyes widening at the sight of me. “Dios mío! Is that our Kai?” He broke into a wide grin. “Our little wolf has found his paws!”

He immediately turned back toward the kitchen, calling over his shoulder, “I will prepare special protein-rich meal for shifting recovery! Maria, we need the venison from freezer!”

“Venison?” I wanted to protest. “I was thinking more along the lines of a burger and fries. Maybe a milkshake to drown my sorrows about being stuck as a pocket-sized canine.”

But Jorge was already gone, and I was left with the dawning realization that my entire household routine was about to be rearranged around my furry predicament.

Marcus carried me to the living room, settling onto the couch with me still cradled in his arms. The position should have been embarrassing—I was literally being held like a baby—but there was something soothing about being surrounded by his scent and warmth.

“It’s going to be okay,” he murmured, seeming to sense my distress. His fingers gently stroked through my fur, finding spots behind my ears that made my back leg twitch involuntarily. “Your body just needs time to adjust to the shift.”

I whimpered, trying to convey my frustration.

“I know,” Marcus soothed, pulling me closer until I was tucked under his chin. “I know it’s scary.”

His heartbeat was steady against my small body, his scent wrapping around me like a security blanket. Despite my panic, I melted into his embrace, a pathetic whine escaping my throat.

“Shhh,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “We’v e got you, little mate. We won’t let anything happen to you.”

Caleb settled beside us, his hand joining Marcus’ in stroking my fur. “Look at it this way—now you can finally experience what it’s like to be properly small. Maybe you’ll appreciate our perspective on your usual height.”

I growled, but there was no heat in it. It was hard to maintain proper indignation when being petted in all the right places.

Derek stood nearby, his expression softening as he watched. “We should call Dr. White. She might have insights about quarter-wolf shifting patterns.”

“Already texted her,” Caleb said. “She’s coming by tomorrow morning.”

Great. Another person to witness my humiliation. At this rate, I’d need therapy for my therapy.

And dinner that evening? It turned out to be a special kind of hell.

“He sits at table like family,” Maria declared, stacking books on a chair until they formed a makeshift booster seat. I was placed atop this literary throne, my nose barely clearing the edge of the table.

Jorge had outdone himself, preparing what looked like a gourmet version of dog food alongside the regular human dinner. “Special blend of proteins and nutrients,” he explained proudly, setting a shallow bowl in front of me. “For optimal shifting recovery.”

I stared at the bowl, then at the forks everyone else was using, then back at the bowl. The message was clear: lap it up, wolf-boy.

“Need help?” Caleb asked innocently, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

I growled, determined to maintain what little dignity I had left. I leaned forward carefully, trying to eat without making a complete mess of myself. It was like trying to eat soup without hands or a spoon—technically possible but guaranteed to end in disaster.

Three bites in, I had food on my muzzle, on the books beneath me, and somehow on my ear. The wolves in the room were doing a poor job of hiding their amusement, though Maria at least tried to look sympathetic.

“Perhaps this would be easier,” Marcus said, picking up a fork and offering me a bite from his hand.

Being hand-fed by Marcus Stone was somehow both mortifying and intimate. His fingers brushed my muzzle with each bite, his eyes never leaving mine. Caleb soon joined in, alternating bites with Marcus, while Derek cut the meat into smaller pieces for them.

“Look at him,” Jorge beamed, as if watching a toddler take its first steps. “He eats so well!”

I wanted to crawl under the table and die. Or at least hide until I had opposable thumbs again. But my traitorous stomach growled, reminding me how hungry shifting had made me.

When I turned my head away after a few bites, more from embarrassment than fullness, Maria frowned.

“You must eat,” she insisted. “No food, no strength. No strength, no shifting back.”

Put that way, I didn’t have much choice. So I endured the indignity of being fed like a toddler, trying to ignore the way my wolf preened at being cared for by my mates.

“Don’t worry,” Caleb whispered, sneaking me an extra piece of meat. “We’ve all been stuck in wolf form before. Derek once got so angry at a training exercise he couldn’t shift back for three days.”

Derek’s growl suggested this was not a story he wanted shared.

“He had to attend a board meeting as a wolf,” Caleb continued, grinning. “Marcus had to explain he had laryngitis.”

Despite my predicament, I huffed a sound that was the wolf equiva lent of laughter. The mental image of Derek, massive and intimidating, sitting at a corporate table while executives pretended not to notice he was a wolf, was too absurd not to appreciate.

“That’s better,” Marcus murmured, his fingers lingering on my fur. “I was beginning to worry we’d lost your sense of humor along with your thumbs.”

After dinner came the next challenge: bathing a wolf who was covered in food debris and forest dirt.

“He’ll use my bathroom,” Marcus declared, already scooping me up before his brothers could protest. “It has the largest tub.”

“Hogging him already?” Caleb accused, but there was no real heat in it. “Fine, but I get to dry him off.”

“We’ll see,” Marcus replied cryptically, carrying me upstairs to his suite.

Marcus’ bathroom was, like everything else in the manor, ridiculously oversized. The tub could have comfortably fit all three brothers—a thought that sent heat flooding through me despite my furry predicament.

“Temperature check,” Marcus murmured, testing the water with his hand before gently lowering me into the shallow bath.

The warm water felt heavenly against my dirt-encrusted fur. I hadn’t realized how many leaves, twigs, and unidentifiable forest bits I’d collected during my woodland adventure.

“Hold still,” Marcus instructed, squeezing a dollop of what smelled like ridiculously expensive shampoo into his palm. “This is specially formulated for wolf fur.”

Of course it was. Why wouldn’t they have wolf-specific toiletries? These guys probably had separate conditioners for each phase of the moon.

His hands were gentle as they worked the shampoo into my fur, strong fingers massaging down to the skin. It felt so good I nearly melted into the water, a contented sound escaping before I could stop it .

“Like that, do you?” Marcus chuckled, his voice deeper than usual. “Good to know.”

The embarrassment of being bathed like a pet was offset by how incredible it felt to have Marcus’ hands on me. Each stroke sent pleasure rippling through my small body, and I leaned leaning into his touch shamelessly.