Page 78 of Marked By Alphas 2: Claimed

I sat on the counter, contemplating my reflection in the mirror. The small silver-white wolf staring back at me looked decidedly unimpressed with life. My fur had dried in tufts that stuck out at odd angles, making me look like I’d stuck my paw in an electrical socket. Great. Not only was I stuck as a wolf, but I was stuck as a wolf with bed head.

Marcus emerged from the shower in a cloud of steam, towel slung low on his hips. He took one look at my disheveled fur and smiled. “Let me fix that for you.”

Before I could protest, he was running a comb gently through my fur, smoothing down the unruly tufts. The sensation was strangely soothing, and I leaned into his touch despite my determination to maintain some semblance of dignity.

“There,” he said finally, setting the comb aside. “Much better.”

I peered at my reflection again. I had to admit, I looked less like a deranged dust bunny and more like a proper wolf—albeit a miniature one.

“Ready for breakfast? Jorge’s been up since dawn preparing something special.”

I gave a resigned whine. No doubt “something special” meant another round of gourmet dog food and the humiliation of being hand-fed at the table.

Marcus dressed with military efficiency, then scooped me up again. I wriggled in protest, trying to communicate that I was perfectly capable of walking downstairs myself.

“Nice try,” he said, tucking me securely against his chest. “Those stairs are too steep for you, and Derek would skin me alive if you took a tumble.”

I huffed in annoyance but stopped struggling. He wasn’t wrong—the grand staircase that had seemed perfectly normal when I was human now resembled a death-defying cascade of doom from my current height. Still, the principle of the thing rankled.

The manor was alive with activity as we descended. I could hear Jorge singing in Spanish from the kitchen, the dogs racing through the great room, and what sounded like Derek on a business call in his study. Normal morning chaos, except for the tiny wolf being carried like a furry football.

“There he is!” Maria exclaimed as we entered the kitchen. “Our little wolf! Did you sleep well, cariño?”

I managed what I hoped was a dignified nod, though it probably looked more like a head twitch.

“Good, good. Jorge has made special breakfast for you—very nutritious, very good for shifting energy.”

Jorge turned from the stove, beaming with pride as he presented a shallow bowl filled with what looked like the world’s fanciest scrambled eggs, mixed with bits of meat and some kind of herb.

“High protein, special herbs for transformation,” he explained, setting the bowl on the table where another stack of books awaited my royal wolf behind. “Stone’s recipe for shifters who get stuck.”

Marcus placed me on my book throne, and breakfast commenced with all the dignity of feeding time at a very upscale zoo. Derek joined us halfway through, his expression softening when he saw me attempting to eat without covering myself in egg.

“Any progress?” he asked Marcus quietly, as if I couldn’t hear them perfectly with my enhanced wolf hearing.

Marcus shook his head slightly. “Still stuck. Dr. White’s video call is at eleven.”

I pretended to be fascinated with my breakfast, but my ears swiveled toward their conversation of their own accord. Apparently, wolf ears were traitors too.

“Luke and Min-seo are coming back,” Derek continued, his voice low.

“They just left yesterday,” Marcus frowned. “What about Luke’s job?”

Derek shrugged. “Said it was a family emergency.”

Family emergency. The words sent a warm feeling through my chest, even as I worried about Luke dropping everything to rush back. What if I was stuck like this for weeks? Months? Would everyone’s life be put on hold because I couldn’t figure out how to switch back to human form?

The morning passed in a blur of humiliating wolf activities. I needed to go outside for… personal business, which required Derek escorting me to a secluded part of the garden. I tried to communicate that I’d like some privacy, please, but he just chuckled and turned his back, still standing guard like I might be kidnapped mid-squat.

Caleb found the whole situation hilarious, of course. He spent twenty minutes taking photos of me from every angle, cooing about how “Social media would literally explode if they could see this.” I made a mental note to delete his entire camera roll the moment I had thumbs again.

By the time Dr. White’s video call was set up in Marcus’ study, I was thoroughly done with being a wolf. The novelty had worn off somewhere between being carried everywhere and having to be helped onto furniture like a geriatric Chihuahua.

“Fascinating,” Dr. White murmured, peering at me through the screen. “Can you hold him up closer to the camera?”

Marcus obliged, lifting me so she could see me better. I felt like a show-and-tell project.

“Silver-white fur, distinctive markings along the spine… classic First Blood traits,” she observed, making notes. “But much smaller than I would have expected, even for a quarter-wolf. Almost fox-like in proportion.”

---