Page 24 of Bound By Alphas 1: Bound

“Sorry, I didn’t mean?—”

“It’s fine,” I cut him off. “Really. I know what you meant.”

An awkward silence fell between us, broken only by Boba’s snoring from the foot of the bed. The little potato could sleep through the apocalypse.

“So,” Drew finally said, clearly looking to change the subject. “What are your plans for the day? Besides hiding in your room and perfecting your impression of a teenage drama?”

I threw a pillow at him, which he caught easily. “I was planning to stay here until either these”—I gestured to my ears and tail—“disappear, or I figure out how to fake my own death and start a new life as a carnival attraction. ‘Come see the amazing half-boy, half-fox! Only five dollars!’”

“Counterproposal,” Drew said, tossing the pillow back. “We go down to the beach, soak up some sun, maybe swim a bit. I could use a run, and you could use some vitamin D before you actually turn into the pasty art gremlin you’re impersonating.”

The idea was tempting. After being cooped up in my room all morning, the thought of feeling sand between my toes and sun on my skin was appealing.

“What about…” I gestured vaguely toward my ears.

“Private beach, remember? No one around for miles except maybe Mr. Ramirez on his security rounds, and he’s seen you with fox parts before.” Drew stood, stretching. “Come on. It’s too nice a day to waste moping. Even your tail agrees.”

I looked down to find my traitor tail wagging slightly at the prospect of the beach. Damn thing had a mind of its own.

“Fine,” I conceded. “Give me fifteen minutes to shower.”

“Ten,” Drew countered. “Or I’m sending Boba in to hurry you up.”

“That potato couldn’t hurry a snail,” I called after him as he left. But I was already gathering my things for the shower.

This wasn’t my first rodeo with fox parts. I’d developed a routine for washing around them, careful not to get soap in my sensitive ears or pull on my tail the wrong way. The first time I’d had to deal with a tail in the shower, I’d nearly drowned myself trying to figure out the logistics. Now it was just another annoying part of being a defective shifter.

Twenty minutes later—because I refused to be rushed, no matter what Drew threatened—I was dressed in board shorts and a loose tank top that accommodated my tail. Drew was waiting on the back deck with a beach bag, my three pets already dancing excitedly around his feet.

“Finally,” he said, tossing me a bottle of sunscreen. “I was about to send in the search party. Or worse, Logan.”

“Some things can’t be rushed,” I replied loftily, catching the bottle. “Beauty takes time, Drew. Not that you’d know anything about that.”

“Says the guy with fox ears,” he shot back, but there was no heat in it. “Come on, the tide’s perfect.”

The path to the beach wound through carefully landscaped gardens before opening onto a stretch of pristine sand that belonged exclusively to the Sinclair estate. The Pacific stretched out before us, glittering in the late morning sun, waves crashing rhythmically against the shore.

“Race you to the water!” Drew called, already sprinting ahead. Mochi took off after him, barking excitedly, while Boba attempted to follow with his stubby legs churning comically in the sand. Pixel gave us all a look of disdain before finding a sunny spot to lounge.

For a moment, I hesitated. Then something wild and free surged within me—something that felt like my fox—and I was running, my bare feet kicking up sand, my tail streaming behind me. The sensation was exhilarating, my body moving with a grace I’d never felt before, as if the partial shift had unlocked something new in me.

I beat Drew to the water’s edge, laughing as I splashed into the surf. The cold Pacific water shocked my system, but in the best way, washing away the last of my melancholy.

“No fair!” Drew protested, joining me in the shallows. “You’ve got fox speed now! That’s basically supernatural steroids!”

“Sounds like sore loser talk to me,” I taunted, flicking water at him. “Maybe you should try growing some ears too. Might improve your aerodynamics.”

He retaliated by tackling me into an oncoming wave, both of us going under in a tangle of limbs. I came up sputtering, my ears flattened against my wet hair, my tail sodden and twice as heavy.

“Jerk!” I laughed, shoving him. “Do you know how long it takes to dry fur? I’m going to look like I stuck my tail in a socket!”

“Sounds like a personal problem.” Drew grinned, shaking water from his hair like the canine he was. “Maybe you should have thought about that before you cheated.”

“It’s not cheating if it’s a genetic mutation I can’t control,” I argued, but I was already plotting my revenge, waiting for him to turn before launching myself onto his back and dunking him under.

We spent the next hour like that—swimming, splashing, chasing each other along the shoreline like we had when we were kids. Mochi joined in enthusiastically, while Boba contented himself with patrolling the water’s edge, barking at particularly offensive waves. Even Pixel eventually deigned to approach, though she stayed well away from the water, her one good eye tracking our movements with feline judgment.

Eventually, overheated and out of breath, I collapsed onto the sand, letting the sun warm my skin. Drew flopped down beside me, and for a while, we just lay there in companionable silence, listening to the waves.

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