Page 89 of Marked By Alphas 2: Claimed

Marcus nodded, taking a final look around the clearing. “Have the team set up thermal imaging. Whatever these watchers are, they have to give off some kind of heat signature.”

“Already done,” Derek confirmed. “And I’ve doubled the guard at the manor. Caleb’s with Kai, and Min-seo is doing another one of her rituals.”

“Let’s hope it works this time.” Marcus sighed. “I miss his voice.”

“You miss him calling you an ‘overbearing alpha with control issues’?” Derek raised an eyebrow.

“I miss all of it,” Marcus admitted. “The sass, the sarcasm, the way he stands up to us despite being half our size.” He ran a hand through his hair. “And I’m worried about bringing him here. If the elders are right and something is targeting him…”

“Then he’s safest with us,” Derek finished firmly. “Three alphas, a full security team, the council, and whatever the hell Min-seo is. If anything tries to touch him, they’ll have to go through all of us.”

Marcus nodded, taking one last look at the ancient stone circle before turning back toward their vehicle.

As they drove away, neither brother noticed the figure watching from the highest branches of an old pine—a slender form dressed in white, its movements too fluid to be entirely human. Nor did they see the crimson scales that briefly flashed on the wrist of a hiker passing on a nearby trail, a forked tongue tasting the air where the wolves had stood.

The watchers had been patient for years. They could be patient a little longer. After all, the moon would be full tomorrow night, and the heir to two bloodlines would be exactly where they needed him to be.

Chapter 21

If 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 ofFancy 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 happening 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.

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