Page 62 of Bound By Alphas 1: Bound

His eyes crinkled at the corners, genuine amusement softening his features. “Remember, you don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

“And miss all this family bonding?” I gestured vaguely at the Blackwood cousins, who were now hovering near Cade and Logan. “Besides, I already said I would. I’m a man of my word.”

“In that case,” he replied, “bring a book, and if anyone tries to make you participate in water sports?—”

“I’ll claim artistic temperament and refuse to cooperate,” I finished with a half smile.

“Wouldn’t expect anything less.” Keir grinned, straightening up just as Sophia approached.

“Keir.” She smiled, her hand coming to rest on his arm. “I was hoping you could tell me more about the lake. Is it very deep?”

“Deep enough,” Keir replied, his tone polite but lacking the warmth he’d used with me moments before. “Cade knows more about it than I do. Family property for generations and all that.”

Sophia’s smile faltered slightly at the redirection, but she recovered quickly. “Of course. I’ll ask him.”

As she moved away, I raised an eyebrow at Keir. “Smooth.”

“I have my moments.” He shrugged, then nudged my plate. “Finish your breakfast.”

I turned back to my French toast, trying to ignore the flutter of something that felt dangerously like hope in my chest. It didn’t mean anything that Keir had deflected Sophia’s attention. Or that Logan had ruffled my hair in that casually affectionate way. Or that Cade kept glancing at me from across the kitchen when he thought I wasn’t looking.

It didn’t mean anything at all.

In my room, I stared at my limited swimwear options. The problem with being built like a “delicate artist”—Elena’s words, not mine—was that everything made me look younger than I was. I finally settled on black swim shorts and a loose tank top that at least wouldn’t emphasize how much smaller I was than every werewolf who would be present.

By the time I made it back downstairs, everyone was loading into vehicles. Drew’s SUV was already packed with coolers and lake gear. Sophia and Mia were climbing into Cade’s sleek black Range Rover, both angling for the front passenger seat. Sophia won, sliding in with a triumphant smile while Mia settled for sitting directly behind Cade.

“You’re with us,” Logan said, appearing beside me and steering me toward the Range Rover with a hand at the small of my back.

“I can go with Drew,” I protested weakly.

“His car’s full of gear,” Logan replied, though we both knew that wasn’t the real reason.

I ended up in the back seat beside Mia, with Keir on my other side. The seating arrangement left me sandwiched between a flirtatious she-wolf and an alpha whose thigh pressed against mine every time the car took a turn. It was going to be a long twenty-minute drive.

“So, Finn, what medium do you work in?” she asked.

“Mostly mixed media and oils,” I answered, trying to subtly shift away from Keir’s touch without success. “Some digital work too.”

Mia’s eyes darted to Keir’s hand, then back to my face, a slight furrow appearing between her perfectly shaped brows.

“How fascinating,” she said in a way that suggested it was anything but. Her attention quickly returned to Cade, leaning forward to ask him something about the lake property.

The rest of the drive passed in a blur of uncomfortable awareness—awareness of Keir’s hand still resting on my knee, of Cade’s eyes occasionally finding mine in the rearview mirror, of Logan’s tension radiating from the front passenger seat as Sophia chatted animatedly beside him.

We arrived at the private dock nestled in a secluded cove, where the Sinclair family’s forty-foot luxury cruiser waited. Thesleek white vessel gleamed in the sunlight, its polished teak deck and chrome fixtures catching the light. It was the kind of boat featured in magazines—spacious enough for a dozen people to move comfortably, with multiple seating areas and a sheltered cabin below deck. Ostentatious in that understated way only old money could manage—expensive without trying to look expensive.

The Blackwood cousins were already making appreciative noises when they saw the boat, running their hands along the gleaming surfaces. Jake and Tyler were helping unload coolers and towels, both looking like they’d stepped out of a summer catalog with their perfect tans and easy smiles.

I hung back, watching the activity with a growing sense of dread. A whole day of this—of watching Sophia and Mia fawn over the brothers, of pretending I didn’t care, of fighting the irrational jealousy that seemed to intensify with every passing hour.

“You okay?” Drew asked quietly, noticing my hesitation.

“Just wondering how long I have to stay before I can claim artistic inspiration and need to be taken back,” I admitted.

He laughed. “At least give it until lunch. Elena packed her famous fried chicken.”

“You fight dirty, Sinclair.”

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