Chapter 21
S tone & Page—I’d grown to love this place over the past week, which was surprising given my initial plan to flee Cedar Grove as fast as humanly possible. There was something magical about the bookstore’s atmosphere—the floor-to-ceiling shelves of leather-bound classics mixing with new releases, the hidden reading nooks with their overstuffed armchairs, and the constant aroma of freshly brewed coffee from our tiny café corner.
“Good morning, Mr. Patterson,” I called out as our first regular of the day shuffled in at precisely quarter past eight. The retired history professor made a beeline for his usual spot in the Historical Fiction section, his tweed jacket as dependable as his timing. His golden eyes always seemed to gleam with hidden knowledge when he looked at me.
“Kai, my boy!” He beamed, adjusting his wire-rimmed glasses. “How’s that copy of The Last Kingdom treating you?”
“Halfway through, sir. You were right about the battle scenes.”
“Ah yes, the ancient battles,” he mused, his voice taking on an odd tone. “Speaking of the Stones—I mean, stones—did you know this area has quite the fascinating history of territorial disputes?”
Before I could answer, the bell chimed again. A group of elegant women from Port Angeles swept in, led by Mrs. Rivera, who’d been visiting daily since I started. They all moved with an eerily similar grace, like dancers in perfect sync.
“Kai, darling,” Mrs. Rivera called out, her accent a mix of old money and something wild. “We simply must have your opinion on these books about pack dynamics—I mean, family dynamics. You seem so… knowledgeable about complex relationships.”
By half past nine, the morning rush was in full swing. Mrs. Chen—no relation, though she kept insisting we must be distant cousins—and her book club occupied the window seats. Today they were discussing Moon Called , and their animated debate about werewolf mythology kept veering into strange questions about my personal life.
“But surely, Kai,” Mrs. Chen pressed, “you must have noticed how protective the Stone brothers are of their… territory?” She exchanged meaningful looks with her friends that went right over my head.
Dr. Sarah Mitchell from the next town over browsed the medical reference section, though I noticed she spent more time watching me reshelve books than actually reading anything. “Fascinating bone structure,” she murmured as I passed. “Do you know anything about your father’s lineage?”
A group of college-age guys had claimed the poetry corner, all wearing leather jackets despite the warm weather. They kept sniffing the air when I walked by, which was weird but probably just their attempt to smell the coffee.
“Hey,” one called out, “you smell—I mean, seem really familiar. Do you ever run in the woods at night?”
“Only if something’s chasing me,” I joked, missing their sharp intake of breath.
The sophisticated woman examining our rare books collection hadn’t moved from the supernatural section all morning. Her perfectly manicured nails traced the spine of an ancient tome about wolf legends.
“Such interesting marks on your neck,” she observed smoothly when I offered assistance. “Almost like… a claiming bite waiting to happen.” At my blank look, she added, “The book. I meant the book has interesting marks.”
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Jane marveled during our quick coffee break. “We used to be lucky to see ten customers before lunch. Now look at this place. It’s like they can smell… the coffee from miles away.”
I glanced around at the bustling store. Two men in ill-fitting expensive suits who’d introduced themselves as representatives from Knox Publishing House were deep in whispered conversation, shooting furtive glances my way. Everything about them screamed “not actually publishers”—from their too-muscular builds straining against designer fabric to their complete lack of interest in any actual books. They moved like bouncers trying to play businessmen and doing a terrible job at it.
Across the room, an elegant woman from the Blackwood Literary Society presented a stark contrast. Her Chanel suit probably cost more than my yearly salary, but she wore it like a second skin. Every platinum-blond hair was perfectly styled, her eyes sharp and calculating behind designer frames as she pretended to read while tracking my every move. Her manicured fingers turned pages with precise grace, though I noticed she hadn’t actually read a single word in the last hour. There was something unnervingly perfect about her, like a porcelain doll with hidden razors.
I wasn’t sure which was worse—the obvious threat of the Knox “representatives” or the elegant danger the woman radiated. At least the Knox guys were bad at hiding what they were. Everything about them screamed predator, from their too-wide shoulders to their clumsy attempts at stealth. But the woman from the Literary Society? She was the kind of predator that smiled while she went for the throat.
“Must be your new coffee blend,” I suggested, straightening my suit jacket—another perfectly fitted hand-me-down from Caleb’s teenage years that somehow made me look like I’d stepped out of a luxury magazine.
Jane snorted. “Sure, honey. That’s exactly why Mrs. Henderson drives forty minutes each way just to buy one paperback at a time. Nothing to do with the fact that you’re practically catnip to every… person who walks through that door.”
I rolled my eyes. “Right. Because I’m such an irresistible force of nature.”
The entire store seemed to pause for a moment, as if sharing some private joke I wasn’t privy to.
The bell above the door chimed, and the entire store went still. Not the normal kind of quiet when someone important walks in, but the kind of silence that falls in nature documentaries right before something gets eaten.
I twisted on my ladder to look, because apparently, my self-preservation instincts were on permanent vacation. A man stood in the doorway, sunlight catching on his golden-blond hair. He moved with a fighter’s grace in designer casual wear, raw power contained beneath a veneer of aristocratic polish.
The Knox representatives shifted uncomfortably in their seats, their attempts at appearing professional crumbling under his presence. Mrs. Rivera’s book club collectively buried their faces in their books. Even the leather-jacketed college guys seemed to shrink into their corner, though I caught them whispering excitedly among themselves. The elegant woman from the Blackwood Literary Society stiffened almost imperceptibly, her eyes narrowing as she watched him over the edge of her book.
Jane materialized from nowhere, moving faster than I’d ever seen her move without caffeine involvement. “Mr. Blackwood,” she said, her usual warm tone carrying an edge I’d never heard before. “Welcome to Stone & Page.”
Blackwood? Like the Blackwood Literary Society? I filed that away under ‘Cedar Grove Mysteries: Volume 437’ and returned to my shelving. Though I could feel his eyes on me, like a physical weight against my skin.
“James is fine.” His voice carried through the store, cultured tones barely masking something wilder underneath. “I hear you’ve acquired quite the… unexpected addition recently.”
I didn’t need to turn around to know he was talking about me. In Cedar Grove, everything somehow ended up being about me lately. I’d blame my paranoia, but even paranoids have stalkers sometimes.
For the next twenty minutes, I played the world’s most obvious game of “pretend not to notice the hot guy stalking me through the stacks.” He’d move from section to section, pretending to browse while actually watching me work. I’d move to a different area, and somehow, he’d end up there too, all controlled power and barely concealed intensity. Something about the way he moved reminded me of a caged predator—too much strength contained in too small a space.
Finally, after I’d run out of places to shelve, dust, or reorganize, I found myself cornered in the Poetry section. He stood between me and escape, a smile playing on his lips that was equal parts aristocrat and predator. Up close, I could see the contradiction in him—expensive clothes but fighter’s calluses on his hands, refined features but a warrior’s stance.
“Can I help you find something?” I asked, aiming for professional and probably landing somewhere between sassy and suicidal.
His smile widened, showing perfect white teeth. “Kai Chen.” He said my name like he was testing its weight. “You’ve become quite… interesting.”
“Become?” I raised an eyebrow. “Sorry, but I’m pretty sure I was born fascinating. It’s a curse, really.”
A laugh escaped him—genuine amusement mixed with something darker. “Oh, you are nothing like what they claimed,” he said, stepping closer. “Last time was so… different.”
“Last time?” I backed up until I hit the shelf. “Pretty sure I’d remember meeting someone with your…” I gestured vaguely at his everything. “…whole intimidating aristocrat thing.”
“You were younger,” he murmured, reaching out to trace a finger along my jaw. “More… frightened. But this?” His eyes gleamed with something hungry. “This is so much better.”
I batted his hand away before I could think better of it. “Yeah, well, the customer service manual doesn’t cover whatever this is, so maybe we could stick to books?”
He laughed again, pure velvet over steel. “Defiant little wolf, aren’t you? The Stones have certainly let you develop some interesting habits.”
Before I could ask what the Stones had to do with my sparkling personality, he leaned in close, his breath ghosting over my ear. “When you remember,” he whispered, “and you will remember, I hope you keep this fire. Last time, all you could do was scream and run. Such a fun little game that was.”
Then he was gone, leaving nothing but expensive cologne and confused terror in his wake. The store seemed to collectively exhale.
“Kai!” Jane called out, her voice slightly higher than usual. “New shipment needs unpacking!”
I’d barely made it halfway to the stockroom when the store’s front door burst open. Marcus filled the doorway, every inch of his six-foot-three frame radiating barely contained fury. His eyes swept the store, nostrils flaring as if tracking something I couldn’t sense.
The Knox representatives practically tripped over themselves rushing to the exit. The Blackwood Literary Society woman smoothly gathered her things and vanished like smoke. But the rest of our customers—Mrs. Rivera’s group, Mrs. Chen’s group, the college guys, even Mr. Patterson—seemed to relax slightly, as if Marcus’ presence made them feel safer.
Jane stepped forward, murmuring something that sounded like, “He’s already gone, Alpha,” though that couldn’t be right.
Marcus crossed the store in four long strides, reaching me before I could process what was happening. His hands came up to frame my face, thumbs brushing along my jaw where James had touched me. A sound like distant thunder rumbled in his chest.
“Are you hurt?” he demanded, eyes searching my face.
“I’m fine,” I said, trying to ignore how my pulse jumped at his proximity. “Though you might want to work on your dramatic entrances. That door’s antique.”
His expression softened slightly, but his hands stayed where they were. “He touched you.”
It wasn’t a question. I wasn’t sure how he knew, but then again, this was Cedar Grove, where everyone seemed to know everything about me except me.
“Yeah, well, personal space isn’t everyone’s strong suit around here,” I quipped, pointedly glancing at his hands still cradling my face.
That actually got a small smile from him, though it didn’t reach his eyes. He slowly lowered his hands but stayed close enough that I had to tip my head back to meet his gaze. “You’ll tell me if he comes back.”
“Sure, I’ll add it to my daily report along with ‘mysterious fighters who quote Shakespeare’ and ‘weird comments about pure bloodlines.’ The list is getting pretty long.”
Mrs. Rivera’s and Mrs. Chen’s groups had resumed their discussion, though they kept shooting approving glances our way. Mr. Patterson had returned to his history books, looking satisfied. Even the college guys seemed to have relaxed back into their corner, though they maintained a respectful distance.
Marcus, however, remained tense, his eyes occasionally scanning the store as if searching for lingering threats. He stayed for the rest of my shift, pretending to work on his laptop while actually watching me like a hawk. It should have been unnerving, but somehow his presence felt more like a shield than a cage.
Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d missed something important. Something about James’ words. But that was crazy, right? I’d remember meeting someone like James Blackwood before.
Wouldn’t I?
I stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, tugging at my outfit—dark fitted jeans that hugged in all the right places and a crisp white button-down with the sleeves rolled up to my elbows that somehow made me look both sophisticated and edible, if the brothers’ reactions over the past two weeks were anything to go by.
Scout lounged in the doorway, head tilted as he watched me fuss with my hair. For a dog, he had an unnervingly judgmental stare.
“Don’t give me that look,” I told him. “This is a perfectly normal amount of time to spend getting ready for a date. A date with three ridiculously hot brothers who’ve been driving me insane for the past two weeks, I might add.”
And they had been driving me insane. Ever since that day of serial kissing—Marcus in his car, Derek in the woods, and Caleb in my kitchen—they’d been playing some elaborate game of hot and cold that was going to give me emotional whiplash. One minute they’d be all intense stares and barely contained… something, the next they’d be practically throwing themselves backward like I had suddenly burst into flames.
It was both amusing and frustrating as hell. Mostly frustrating. Especially since my body seemed to have developed some sort of magnetic attraction to them that my brain couldn’t quite explain.
“At least I get to escape Maria’s dinner invasion tonight,” I mused, though Scout’s skeptical look suggested he knew better. For the past two weeks, I’d been practically force-fed at Stone Manor every single night. Maria had made it clear that my attendance wasn’t so much requested as required, usually with threats of personally coming to collect me if I dared skip a meal.
My fridge looked like a five-star restaurant had exploded inside it. Between Maria’s insistence that I was “too skinny” and Jorge’s determination to show off his culinary mastery, I hadn’t needed to cook or shop for anything beyond snacks and essentials. Jorge took personal pride in expanding my already decent palate—from classic Spanish paella to French coq au vin, English roasts to Italian risottos. The man could cook anything, and apparently, I had become his favorite taste-tester. Every time I left the manor, Maria somehow managed to slip another container of gourmet leftovers into my arms. I was pretty sure she had ninja training somewhere in her past.
The weekends were even more intense. Apparently, my plans of peaceful solitude were offensive to Maria’s maternal sensibilities. I was swept up into the manor’s routine, which felt more like home than the cottage ever had.
Anna, who’d recently gotten engaged to Miguel, had practically moved into the manor herself. As Maria’s new second-in-command, she kept the household running with terrifying efficiency. Though lately, I’d caught her watching me with the brothers with an oddly intense expression. Once, I could have sworn I saw her dabbing at a nosebleed when Derek had reached over me to grab something, practically pinning me against the counter in the process. She’d muttered something about “better than any drama” before hurrying off.
“Maybe I should change,” I said to Scout, who had flopped onto his side in apparent boredom. “Is this too much? Not enough? Why didn’t they tell me where we’re going? And why am I talking to a dog about my dating anxiety?”
Scout’s tail thumped against the floor in what I chose to interpret as solidarity.
My phone buzzed with Luke’s ringtone—some K-pop song he’d specifically set to “save you from your basic music taste, you uncultured heathen.”
“If you’re calling to identify my body, I’m still disappointingly alive,” I answered.
“Just checking if your mountain men murder cult has progressed from ‘suspiciously attractive family’ to ‘actual cannibals’ yet,” Luke drawled. “Though I suppose they’d have eaten you by now if that was the plan.”
“Please, I’m not even a snack. More like those fancy appetizers that look pretty but don’t fill you up.”
“Speaking of filling up—Eomma says you better not be surviving on instant ramen now that you’re living your cottage-core fantasy.”
I glanced at my overflowing fridge. “Actually, I’m being aggressively fed by an entire Spanish household. Maria and Jorge have appointed themselves my personal culinary intervention team.”
“Betrayal!” Luke gasped with dramatic flair. “Has paella replaced your Seoul? Have tapas taken over your taste buds? What’s next—forgetting Eomma’s kimchi?”
“First of all, that pun was terrible, even for you. Second, the kimchi Imo sent has actually started a cultural revolution in the Stone kitchen. Maria and Jorge are deep in Korean cooking YouTube tutorials. I caught them debating the proper rice-to-water ratio yesterday like it was a matter of national security.”
“Wait, you’re telling me Eomma’s secret kimchi recipe has infiltrated your murder mansion? The same kimchi she threatens to disown me over if I share the recipe?”
“More than that—Maria’s determined to master Korean cuisine to ‘make our Kai feel at home.’ I’m both touched and terrified. Pretty sure Jorge is planning a kimchi paella experiment.”
“Fusion food crimes aside,” Luke’s voice turned serious, “you’re really okay? No weird vibes? No mysterious disappearances? No unexplained howling in the night?”
I ignored the way my stomach flipped at ‘howling.’ “The only crime being committed is how unfairly attractive they all are. And before you start—no, I’m not having an affair with three brothers.”
“You’re right. It’s worse. You’re having an affair with three brothers against ME, your platonic soulmate. I’m devastated. Heartbroken. Possibly in need of therapy.”
“You needed therapy way before I met the Stones.”
“That’s it. I’m coming next weekend to make sure these mountain men haven’t completely corrupted you. And to judge their interior decorating choices. And possibly to steal Jorge for Eomma if his Korean cooking passes muster.”
“You just want to see if they’re as hot as I’ve described.”
“Obviously. My best friend privilege demands visual confirmation of your thirst texts come to life. Consider this your warning—I’m bringing my judgy face and my extensive list of embarrassing college stories.”
The line went dead before I could remind him about the mutual destruction pact we’d signed after the Halloween Incident of junior year.
A knock at the door sent my heart rate skyrocketing. Scout perked up and trotted toward the entrance.
Right. Okay. Just dinner with three guys who looked like they’d stepped out of some extremely specific fantasy catalog. Guys who’d been starring in my dreams for the past two weeks. Guys who kept looking at me like they wanted to devour me whole before suddenly remembering their weird self-imposed restrictions.
No pressure at all.
“Here goes nothing,” I muttered, checking my reflection one last time. At least if this went horribly wrong, I had a fridge full of comfort food waiting for me.
I opened the door to find all three Stone brothers looking like they’d stepped out of a luxury menswear catalog—if luxury menswear catalogs featured mountains disguised as men.
Marcus wore perfectly fitted dark jeans and a crisp white button-down that somehow made casual look expensive, the sleeves precisely rolled to his forearms in a way that screamed controlled power. Derek had opted for a fitted black t-shirt that showed off his military-built arms, the fabric stretched across his broad chest. And Caleb, grinning like he knew exactly what he was doing, wore a vintage band t-shirt under a well-worn leather jacket, the whole ensemble managing to look both effortlessly cool and deliberately crafted to make my mouth go dry.
“Here.” Caleb thrust a large container at me, still grinning. “Maria says you’re too skinny.”
“She said that yesterday.” I took the container, trying not to notice how all three brothers tracked my movement as I walked to the kitchen. “And the day before. And possibly in her sleep.”
“She’s making kimchi fried rice tomorrow,” Derek called after me, his deep voice carrying a hint of amusement. “Says she’s mastering fusion cuisine.”
“God help us all,” I muttered, shoving the container into my already overflowing fridge. When I turned around, I found all three brothers had followed me into the kitchen, effectively boxing me in against the counter.
Marcus leaned against the doorframe, his calculated casualness doing nothing to diminish his commanding presence. “Ready for dinner?”
“You still haven’t told me where we’re going,” I pointed out, trying to ignore how Derek had somehow drifted closer, his heat radiating against my back.
Caleb’s grin turned mischievous. “It’s a surprise. But you might want to grab a jacket—it’s a bit of a drive.”
“A drive where?” I asked, acutely aware of how the kitchen seemed to have shrunk with all three of them in it.
“Patience, little one.” Marcus’ voice carried that hint of authority that never failed to make my spine tingle. “Trust us?”
The way he said it made it sound like so much more than just dinner plans.
Outside, Marcus’ Bentley waited in the driveway, midnight black and gleaming like a predator in the fading light. I tried not to read too much into how they arranged themselves—Marcus behind the wheel, Derek riding shotgun, leaving me in the back with Caleb, who looked far too pleased with himself.
The moment I slid into the butter-soft leather seat next to Caleb, my body seemed to hum with awareness. Lately, every touch from them felt electric, like my skin was becoming hypersensitive to their presence.
“You smell divine when you’re nervous,” Caleb murmured, close enough that his lips brushed my ear. The contact sent sparks down my spine, drawing out a small gasp that made all three brothers tense.
“Caleb.” Marcus’ voice carried enough authority to make me shiver, but Caleb just grinned, sliding even closer.
“What? I’m just appreciating our little mate’s…” His fingers traced along my neck. “…natural responses.”
Derek twisted in his seat, his eyes flashing dangerously. “You’re pushing it, little brother.”
“Please,” Caleb scoffed, though his hand stayed on my neck, thumb brushing my pulse point. “Like you both haven’t been imagining pinning him down and—”
“Enough,” Marcus commanded, making me gasp as something primal inside me wanted to bare my throat in response.
The tension in the car was suffocating—all heated looks and barely restrained hunger. Every time Marcus’ eyes met mine in the rearview mirror, they seemed to glow with barely controlled desire. Derek’s knuckles were white where he gripped the door handle, like he was physically restraining himself from climbing into the back seat.
“So,” I ventured, desperate to break the charged silence as we wound along the coastal road, “Mr. Patterson was telling me something interesting at the bookstore today. About territorial disputes in the area? He got really excited about it actually, right after asking about The Last Kingdom . Something about stones too—maybe the quarries they used to build those old mansions? Though knowing him, he probably meant some kind of precious gems. He gets excited about the weirdest historical details.”
All three brothers tensed simultaneously. Another one of those invisible conversations seemed to pass between them before Marcus spoke.
“Ah, Professor Patterson.” Marcus’ voice was carefully neutral. “He’s quite the… history enthusiast.”
“The Stone family has deep roots in this area,” Derek added, though his attention seemed more focused on glaring at Caleb through the side mirror as his brother’s fingers traced lazy patterns on my neck.
“The Pacific Northwest drew quite a few prominent families in those early days,” Caleb murmured against my ear, making me shiver. “Old bloodlines seeking new territories.”
“Stop distracting him when he’s asking about history,” Derek growled. The sound should have been threatening, but lately, their weird aggressive moments just made heat pool in my stomach.
“I’m enhancing the educational experience.” Caleb’s grin was audible as his lips brushed my temple. “Besides, he’s so delightfully responsive when—”
“Caleb.” Marcus’ voice carried enough authority to make us all straighten, though when his eyes met mine in the mirror, they held something molten. “The history lesson?”
“Right,” I managed, trying to sound less affected than I was. “So what happened with all these families moving in?”
“The usual story of any new territory,” Marcus continued smoothly, taking a curve that sent me farther into Caleb’s embrace. “Some families learned to coexist. Others… made different choices.”
“Those who chose poorly usually regretted it.” Derek’s smile was all teeth.
“You make it sound like some epic power struggle.” I laughed, though something about their intensity made me shiver. “What’d they do—have fancy dinner parties to establish dominance?”
Caleb’s chuckle vibrated against my back. “Oh, kitten, if you only knew the games old families play. Though I’d argue we throw the best parties now.”
“Is that what tonight is? Some kind of power move?” I meant it as a joke, but the way all three brothers suddenly focused on me made my breath catch.
“Tonight…” Marcus’ voice dropped lower. “…is about showing you exactly where you belong.”
The possessive edge in his tone should have sent me running. Instead, that wild thing inside me—the part that kept responding to their touches, their growls, their heated looks—practically purred.
“Besides…” Caleb nuzzled behind my ear, ignoring Derek’s warning growl. “…we want to show off our beautiful little—”
“Finish that sentence…” Derek twisted in his seat, eyes flashing. “I dare you.”
I watched in fascination as another silent exchange passed between them. It was like watching a tennis match where all the balls were invisible and possibly on fire.
“You know,” I mused, “most people just text each other if they want to have private conversations.”
That earned me three identical looks of innocence that wouldn’t have fooled a blind man.
“We have no idea what you mean,” Caleb purred, though his hold on me loosened slightly.
“Right.” I snorted. “And I’m sure that thing where you all tense up at the same time is just synchronized muscle spasms.”
Marcus’ laugh was rich and warm, though his eyes when they met mine held something darker. “You’re entirely too observant for your own good, little one.”
“So I’ve been told,” I muttered, trying to ignore how that endearment in his voice made something inside me purr. “Usually right before someone tells me I ask too many questions.”
“Never,” Caleb breathed against my skin. “We want you to ask all the questions. Eventually.”
The weight of promise in his voice should have scared me. Instead, I leaned into his touch, even as my mind raced with all the things I wasn’t sure I was ready to know.