Page 45 of Marked by Alphas 2: Claimed (The Blood Moon Chronicle #2)

I f I’d known becoming a werewolf meant being subjected to professional grooming, I might have reconsidered the whole supernatural mate business.

“Hold still,” said Genevieve, Cedar Grove’s premier—and only—dog groomer, as she worked a specialized brush through my fur. “These tangles won’t remove themselves.”

I shot a pleading look at Marcus, who had the audacity to appear pleased with my suffering.

“He needs to look presentable,” Marcus explained to a clearly confused Genevieve, who’d probably never been summoned to a mansion to groom what appeared to be an exotic pet. “It’s an important occasion.”

An important occasion. Right. Because nothing says “formal supernatural duel” like having your fur shampooed, conditioned, trimmed, and blow-dried until you resembled something from a Westminster Dog Show reject. Next, they’d be putting ribbons in my fur and teaching me to sit pretty for treats.

“He has such unusual coloring,” Genevieve remarked, working scented oil through my coat. “I’ve never seen a dog quite like him. ”

“Wolf hybrid,” Derek supplied from where he was checking his phone for security updates. “Rare bloodline.”

Rare bloodline. Understatement of the century. Quarter-wolf with mysterious maternal heritage that had everyone tiptoeing around me like I might spontaneously combust. But sure, let’s focus on making me pretty for the werewolf Thunderdome.

You’re enjoying this way too much , I mentally projected at Luke, who was filming the entire grooming session with undisguised glee.

“This is going on social media the second you can shift back,” Luke whispered, zooming in as Genevieve applied some kind of glossy finishing spray to my fur. “Caption: When Your BFF Gets a Glow-Up: Supernatural Edition.”

I growled, which only made Genevieve coo about how “expressive” I was.

“Such a good boy,” she praised, scratching behind my ears. “So patient.”

I was not patient. I was plotting elaborate revenge scenarios against everyone in this room, starting with Luke and his camera and ending with whoever had decided I needed to smell like Mountain Spring Breeze for a supernatural territory dispute.

When I got my human form back, there would be hell to pay.

Possibly involving hair removal cream in strategic locations.

“Perfect,” Genevieve declared finally, stepping back to admire her work. “He looks absolutely show quality now.”

I caught my reflection in the mirror she held up. The wolf staring back looked like it belonged on the cover of Fancy Canine Monthly . My silver-white fur gleamed under the lights, the dark markings along my spine artfully highlighted. I looked ridiculous. And adorable. Which was somehow worse.

“Excellent work,” Marcus approved, handing Genevieve what appeared to be several hundred-dollar bills. “We appreciate your discretion.”

Discretion. Because nothing says “nothing suspicious happen ing here” like paying a dog groomer enough to buy a small car to keep quiet about the weirdly intelligent mini-wolf living at Stone Manor.

“Of course, Mr. Stone.” Genevieve nodded, packing her extensive grooming kit. “Though I’d be happy to set up regular appointments. He really does have exceptional coat quality.”

Just kill me now.

After Genevieve departed, the manor erupted into pre-duel chaos.

Derek’s security team moved, checking weapons that were supposedly just “ceremonial” but looked decidedly functional to me.

Maria fussed over everyone, insisting we couldn’t attend a supernatural showdown on empty stomachs.

Jorge had prepared enough food to feed a small army, which, considering Derek’s team, wasn’t far off.

“You look like a show poodle,” Luke snickered as he sat beside me on the couch, still reviewing his footage. “A very angry, very fluffy show poodle.”

I nipped at his hand, missing intentionally but making my point.

“Children, play nice,” Imo said as she entered, dressed in traditional Korean hanbok that somehow managed to look both elegant and practical. She carried a small pouch that smelled of herbs and something metallic. “Kai-ya, you look very handsome.”

At least someone appreciated my suffering.

“Vehicles are ready,” Derek announced, entering the room with that focused expression that meant he was in full military mode. “Johnson has secured the route. We move in fifteen.”

“Is all this really necessary?” Luke asked, gesturing at the small army assembling outside. “It’s just a formal ceremony, right?”

The three brothers exchanged a look that made my fur stand on end despite the gallons of antistatic spray Genevieve had applied .

“The Knox Pack tried to claim Kai by force,” Marcus explained, his voice tight. “They’ll be desperate now that they’re cornered.”

“And the Blackwoods will be there,” Caleb added, his usual playfulness nowhere in evidence. “Along with representatives from at least three other regional packs.”

“All of whom have taken a sudden interest in our mate,” Derek finished, checking his sidearm with practiced efficiency.

Great. So not just a supernatural duel, but a supernatural duel with an audience of potential enemies. This day just kept getting better. Maybe I should’ve asked Genevieve for some sparkly nail polish too—really complete the “sacrificial lamb with style” look.

Loading into the vehicles felt like preparing for a military convoy.

Derek’s team took point and rear positions, while the brothers, Luke, Imo, and I piled into Marcus’ oversized SUV.

Even the dogs—Shadow, Storm, and Scout—were brought along, each wearing what appeared to be tactical harnesses.

Because apparently even the canines needed battle gear.

“Remember,” Marcus instructed as we pulled away from the manor, “stay with Luke and Min-seo at all times. Johnson’s team will form a perimeter around you three.”

“And if anything feels wrong—anything at all—you signal us immediately,” Caleb added, reaching back to scratch under my chin.

I would have rolled my eyes if wolves could manage it effectively. How exactly was I supposed to “signal” anything more complex than “I need to pee” or “I’m hungry” in my current form? Semaphore with my tail? Morse code with my paws?

The drive took us deep into the forest, following roads that grew progressively narrower until they were little more than trails.

The vehicles ahead of us carved a path through the mist that had settled among the ancient pines, creating an eerily beauti ful scene that belonged in a horror movie—specifically the part right before everyone dies horribly.

“We’re here,” Marcus announced as we pulled into a clearing where several other vehicles were already parked.

The moment I stepped out of the SUV—carried by Luke, which was humiliating but necessary given my size—I felt it.

A strange energy that seemed to pulse from the ground itself, making my fur stand on end despite Genevieve’s best efforts.

The air tasted different here, charged with something ancient and watchful.

Shadow, Storm, and Scout flanked us immediately, their tactical training evident as they formed a protective triangle around Luke, who still cradled me in his arms. Shadow took point position, his black form clearing a path through the gathering crowd.

Storm stayed on our right flank, his silver-gray fur bristling as he scanned for threats, while Scout circled around us, his golden form weaving between onlookers with surprising grace for his size.

“You feel it,” Imo murmured, her hand coming to rest protectively on my back. “Veil is thin.”

Ahead of us lay a perfect circle of standing stones, weathered by centuries of Pacific Northwest rain but still imposingly vertical.

In the center stood a flat altar stone covered in moss and what looked suspiciously like ancient bloodstains.

Surrounding the circle were rows of wooden benches, already filling with observers from various packs.

I recognized many of the faces—Mrs. Rivera, Mr. Patterson, even old Mrs. Chen.

All of them supernatural. All of them wolves hiding in plain sight.

And there, browsing through an ancient-looking tome with her perfectly manicured nails, sat Victoria Ashworth from the Blackwood Literary Society—the ice queen who’d come into Stone she hadn’t been judging my fashion choices, but my bloodline.

“Alpha Stone approaches,” someone announced formally, and the assembled crowd fell silent as Marcus, Derek, and Caleb strode toward the stone circle.

They looked different today—more primal, more dangerous. Gone were the businessman, the security expert, and the charming brother. In their place walked three apex predators, their movements perfectly synchronized, power rolling off them in waves that even I could feel.

“This way,” Johnson murmured, guiding our small group to a reserved section near the front. “Stay together.”

Shadow, Storm, and Scout positioned themselves around us as Luke sat with me in his lap. Shadow settled directly in front, his black form an intimidating barrier, while Storm and Scout flanked us protectively.

We had barely settled when a ripple of tension passed through the crowd. The dogs’ ears pricked forward, and Shadow’s crimson eyes narrowed as three men approached—tall, blond, and radiating the same dangerous power as my mates, though with a colder, more aristocratic edge.

The Blackwoods.

I’d heard enough about them to recognize the power they radiated.

The eldest, Xander, moved with aristocratic grace, his ice-blue eyes sweeping the gathering before settling on Luke with barely concealed interest. Behind him, James’ fighter’s physique drew admiring glances from the crowd, while Liam’s analytical gaze seemed to catalog every detail—though it kept returning to my best friend with scholarly intensity.