Chapter 17
I woke to sunlight streaming through the curtains and a face full of Keir’s chest. Smooth, perfectly sculpted chest, I might add. The kind of chest Renaissance artists would have wept to carve in marble. Not that I’d been studying it. Much.
“You’re staring again,” Keir mumbled without opening his eyes.
“I’m not staring,” I protested. “I’m conducting an anatomical study. For art. It’s very scientific.”
“Hmm.” His arm tightened around my waist, pulling me closer. “And the drooling? Is that for science too?”
“I do not drool!” My fox ears popped out in indignation—traitors—and Keir’s hand immediately found them, scratching gently behind them in a way that made my toes curl.
It had been just over a week since that day at the beach when everything changed between us—since the night Cade had carried me back to his room and the three brothers had shown me exactly what being their mate could mean.
Since then, I’d been rotating between their beds each night, following some schedule they seemed to have worked out among themselves.
Not that I was complaining. Each brother offered something different, something I was quickly becoming addicted to.
“Wake up!” Drew’s voice came through the door with a quick knock. “Aunt Vivian’s here with breakfast!”
I bolted upright. “Aunt Vivian? Why didn’t you say so?”
Keir laughed, stretching languidly. “Funny how you’ll sleep through Elena’s calls but Aunt Vivian gets immediate attention.”
“Elena doesn’t make her special blueberry pancakes,” I explained, already scrambling for clothes. “And Aunt Vivian only visits on weekends.”
Before I could locate my second sock, the door opened and Logan appeared, looking far too put-together for this hour. “You’re late,” he informed us, leaning against the doorframe. “Cade’s already on his second cup of coffee, and Aunt Vivian is asking where her favorite artist is.”
“I’m coming!” I hopped on one foot, trying to pull on my sock while simultaneously searching for a clean shirt.
Logan watched my struggle with undisguised amusement before crossing the room in three strides. Without warning, he scooped me up and tossed me over his shoulder.
“Put me down!” I yelped, my hands instinctively bracing against his back. “I’m not even dressed properly!”
“You look fine,” he assured me, already heading for the door. “Besides, Aunt Vivian has seen you in worse states.”
“That’s not the point!”
Keir followed us out, still buttoning his shirt. “The point is that Logan enjoys manhandling you and is using breakfast as an excuse.”
“I do not enjoy—” Logan started, then shrugged, jostling me. “Actually, yes, I do.”
Drew met us in the hallway. “You’re carrying him again? What is it with you three and treating Finn like a sack of potatoes?”
“He’s the perfect size for it,” Logan replied, adjusting his grip on my thighs.
“I am not!” I protested, though it was hard to sound dignified while upside down. “I’m average height! You three are just freakishly oversized!”
“Keep telling yourself that, short stack,” Drew grinned, ruffling my hair as he passed.
The kitchen was filled with the heavenly scent of Aunt Vivian’s blueberry pancakes when Logan finally set me on my feet.
Cade sat at the island beside our aunt, both of them with coffee mugs in hand, engaged in what looked like a serious conversation.
But Vivian’s face lit up when she saw me, immediately setting her coffee aside to pull me into a hug.
“There’s my favorite artist,” she said, holding me at arm’s length to examine me. “You’re looking better. Less like a ghost and more like a fox.”
“Funny,” I deadpanned but couldn’t help smiling. Aunt Vivian had always supported my artistic pursuits, even when Cade had insisted it was “just a phase.”
“I’m serious,” she insisted, guiding me to a stool. “You’ve got color in your cheeks. And you’ve gained a little weight, thank goodness. I was starting to think we needed to check you for tapeworms.”
“Vivian,” Cade admonished, but his lips twitched with amusement.
“What? It’s true. He was wasting away.” She slid a plate stacked with pancakes in front of me. “Eat. Elena’s on her weekend off, so I’m in charge of making sure you all don’t starve.”
I didn’t need to be told twice. Aunt Vivian’s blueberry pancakes were legendary—fluffy, buttery perfection studded with fresh berries and topped with real maple syrup. I dug in with enthusiasm, barely noticing when Keir stole a bite from my plate.
From under the table, I felt a cold, wet nose nudge my leg.
Looking down, I found Mochi staring up at me with hopeful eyes, his fluffy white tail wagging expectantly.
Beside him, Boba sat with his head tilted, his tan face with black mask markings making him look perpetually confused.
His potato-shaped body was practically vibrating with anticipation.
“No begging,” I whispered, though I was already sneaking a small plain piece of pancake under the table. Mochi delicately took it from my fingers while Boba watched with dramatic envy, letting out one of his signature sighs before flopping onto the floor like his life was ending.
“I saw that,” Aunt Vivian said, though she immediately contradicted herself by slipping Boba a tiny plain morsel of her own. “These dogs are spoiled rotten.”
“Where’s Pixel?” I asked, realizing the one-eyed tabby was missing from the morning pet parade.
“Sunning herself on the window seat in the library,” Drew replied. “She made it very clear she had no interest in coming downstairs for something as undignified as begging.”
“That sounds like her.” I laughed.
“So,” Vivian said, leaning against the counter as she surveyed us all. “What’s the plan for today? I thought we might go to the beach, if you boys don’t have other commitments.”
“Council meeting this afternoon,” Cade replied, his hand finding my knee under the counter in what had become a familiar gesture. “But the morning is free.”
“Perfect.” Vivian clapped her hands. “We’ll go to North Beach. It’s too hot to do anything else, and I want to see if Finn’s swimming has improved since last summer.”
“Hey!” I protested around a mouthful of pancake. “I’m a perfectly adequate swimmer.”
“For a fox,” Drew teased. “Which isn’t saying much.”
I flicked a blueberry at him, which he caught and popped into his mouth with infuriating ease.
“Children.” Vivian sighed, though her eyes were filled with fondness. “Finish your breakfast, then go get ready. I want to be at the beach before it gets too hot.”
North Beach was the private stretch of coastline on the northern edge of the Sinclair property, accessible only through a winding path that cut through the forest. It was smaller than the main beach, sheltered by cliffs on either side, with water deeper and clearer than anywhere else on the property.
By the time we arrived, the sun was high enough to warm the sand but not so high that it was uncomfortable.
Aunt Vivian set up her chair and umbrella, while Drew immediately headed for the water, diving in with a whoop of joy.
Mochi raced after him, fearlessly plunging into the gentle waves, while Boba waddled along the shoreline, dramatically avoiding getting his paws too wet.
I stripped down to my swim shorts, acutely aware of three pairs of eyes tracking my movements.
Their attention should have made me self-conscious, but instead, it made me feel…
powerful. Desired. I stretched deliberately, enjoying the way their gazes darkened, before running toward the water and diving in.
The ocean was cool but not cold, perfect after the hot walk down to the beach. I surfaced with a gasp, pushing wet hair from my eyes just in time to see Keir diving in after me, his powerful form cutting through the water with effortless grace.
“Race you to the rocks,” I challenged, already striking out toward the small formation at the edge of the cove.
Keir grinned. “You’re on, little fox.”
I had no illusion of actually beating him—not only did his werewolf strength and stamina give him an unfair advantage, but his sheer size meant each of his strokes covered nearly twice the distance of mine.
The contrast between us was striking—his broad shoulders and six-foot-two frame making powerful strokes while my five-foot-six body had to work twice as hard just to keep pace.
Still, I gave it my best effort, swimming hard toward the rocks, feeling the burn in my muscles as I pushed myself.
As expected, he reached them first with embarrassing ease, turning to watch me with a triumphant smile as I approached, still a good thirty feet behind.
“Show-off,” I accused as I finally reached the rocks, breathing hard and trying not to show how winded I actually was.
“Poor loser,” he countered, reaching out one large hand to help me up onto the flat surface beside him. His fingers easily encircled my wrist, reminding me yet again of the size difference between us as he effortlessly pulled me up.
The rocks formed a small, secluded alcove hidden from the view of the beach, sheltered on three sides by higher formations that created a private nook. Keir took advantage of our privacy immediately, pulling me against him as soon as I was seated, my legs still dangling in the water.
“Been wanting to do this all morning,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that I could feel vibrating through his chest where it pressed against mine.
His lips found mine with deliberate slowness, tasting of salt water and desire.
The first touch was gentle, almost reverent.
His hand came up to cradle my jaw, thumb stroking the line of my cheekbone with surprising tenderness.
The kiss was unhurried, exploratory—his tongue tracing the seam of my lips, requesting rather than demanding entrance.
When I parted for him, he made a sound low in his throat, something between a growl and a sigh, before deepening the kiss with careful precision.