“This was a good idea,” I admitted finally. “Thanks for dragging me out of my pity cave.”
“That’s what I’m here for,” Drew said, nudging my shoulder with his. “Someone has to make sure you actually see sunlight occasionally. You were starting to look like one of your vampire manga characters.”
I turned my head to look at him, suddenly grateful for his presence. For all our bickering, Drew had always been my rock—the one constant in a house full of alpha energy and expectations. “Seriously, though. Thanks for… everything.”
His expression softened. “Always, Finn. You know that.”
A comfortable silence fell between us again. After a while, Drew sat up, looking out at the ocean with an odd expression.
“What?” I asked, propping myself up on my elbows. “Did you spot a shark? Because if this is anotherBaby Sharkprank, I swear to God?—”
“Nothing like that,” he said too quickly. “Just thinking about going for a run. It’s been a while since I shifted.”
I understood immediately. Drew tried to shift at least once a day, believing that regular practice helped maintain control.
“Go for it,” I encouraged, sitting up fully. “The beach is perfect for a run.”
Drew grinned, already pulling off his t-shirt. “You sure you don’t mind? With your…” He gestured vaguely at my ears.
I waved away his concern. “Please. I’m used to being the defective shifter in the group. It’s my brand at this point. I’m thinking of getting business cards: ‘Finn Sinclair: Supernatural Disappointment.’”
“You’re not defective,” Drew said automatically, but he was already moving a few paces away, preparing for the change.
Unlike the brothers, whose transformations were displays of raw power and grace—like watching living art—Drew’s shift was more straightforward. Practical, efficient, without the dramatic flair that seemed to come naturally to alphas. His form blurred, bones and muscles rearranging themselves in a fluid motion that took mere seconds.
Where Drew had stood moments before, a large wolf now looked back at me—dark-brown fur with hints of red and intelligent hazel eyes that were unmistakably Drew’s.
“Still cool,” I said appreciatively. “No matter how many times I see it.”
Drew made a sound that might have been laughter, then bounded over to me, nudging my hand with his muzzle. His fur was softer, warm and thick beneath my fingers.
“Show-off,” I muttered, but I was smiling. “Just because some of us are stuck with the starter pack version of shifting doesn’t mean you have to rub it in.”
He responded by licking my face, then dancing away before I could retaliate, clearly inviting me to chase him. I was on my feet, running after him along the shoreline. My fox parts seemed to enhance my speed and agility, allowing me to keep pace with him in a way I never could have before.
“Maybe these ridiculous appendages are good for something after all,” I called as I nearly caught his tail, only for him to dart away at the last second.
We raced back and forth along the beach, Drew occasionally letting me catch him before bounding away again. Mochi and Boba joined the game, barking excitedly as they tried to keep up. For those moments, I forgot about the ceremony, forgot about the brothers, forgot about everything except the joy of running with my brother under the summer sun.
I didn’t notice the prickling sensation at the back of my neck at first, too caught up in our game. But gradually, I became aware of a feeling—a warmth, a pull, a sense of being watched. I slowed, turning toward the mansion that loomed on the cliff above us.
The distance was too great to make out details, but I could see figures on the upper deck—three of them, standing close together, looking down at the beach. At us. At me.
A shiver ran through me that had nothing to do with the ocean breeze. Even from here, I could feel them—their presence, their focus, their… something else I couldn’t quite name. My fox ears swiveled toward them of their own accord, and my tail swished nervously.
Drew, noticing my distraction, shifted back to human form in one fluid motion. “What’s up?” he asked, following my gaze.
“They’re watching,” I said quietly.
Drew squinted toward the mansion, then shrugged. “Probably just checking that we’re okay. Logan’s paranoid about security, especially at the beach.”
I wasn’t so sure. There was something about the way they stood, so still and focused, that made me think this wasn’t just routine surveillance. It felt more… primal. Possessive, almost. The sensation pulsed through the bond between us, making my skin tingle and my heart race.Hunger. Need. Mine.
But that was probably just wishful thinking, my confused emotions projecting meaning onto ordinary behavior. After all, they’d been watching over me for years—as brothers, as protectors. Not as mates. Never as mates.
“We should head back,” I said, suddenly feeling exposed. “I’m getting hungry.”
Drew looked like he wanted to argue, but something in my expression must have convinced him. “Sure. Lunch sounds good.”