Housebound with the Blackridge Heirs novel Chapter 51

**Change Begins With You — Jayden Collins**

**Chapter 51**

**Maya**

The first pancake met its unfortunate fate in a charred demise.

It wasn’t due to my lack of culinary skills—thank you very much for that assumption—but rather because my mind was a chaotic whirlwind of thoughts. I mean, how does one even begin to process the fact that they are bonded to a wolf? And how do you explain that to your own reflection without sounding like you’ve lost your grip on reality?

The mark on my neck continued to emit a soft, pleasant warmth, a gentle thrum that pulsed beneath my skin like a heartbeat. Every time it flickered to life, I could almost hear Caden’s voice teasingly echoing in my mind, whispering those infuriatingly smug phrases: “Miss me yet?” or “Thinking about me again, beautiful?”

Last night, I had finally figured out how to block him out after enduring the third “accidental” mental image of him without a shirt. It had taken quite a bit of mental gymnastics, but I had envisioned constructing a solid brick wall in my mind. It worked… mostly.

So here I was, flipping pancakes in a desperate attempt to reclaim my sanity and, well, to make amends with them.

As I tossed the second batch of pancakes, I heard the soft padding of footsteps approaching the kitchen. I didn’t need to turn around to identify the intruder; the atmosphere shifted, calm yet heavy, as if the world itself had taken a deep breath, waiting for something to go awry.

Tylon.

“Morning,” I called out, still focused on my pancake flipping. “Care for some coffee? Or perhaps the blood of your enemies?” I added with a playful tone.

He remained silent.

A frown creased my forehead as I glanced over my shoulder just in time to see him halt mid-stride, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled deeply. His storm-gray eyes, so unsettling and intense, locked onto the mark on my neck.

In an instant, his demeanor shifted. The calmness disappeared, replaced by a flash of pure, unrestrained fury that painted his face in shades of anger.

His jaw tightened, his shoulders rigid, and for a fleeting moment, I feared he might transform right there, beside the refrigerator.

I took a cautious step back. “Uh… Tylon?”

He didn’t reply. Instead, he glared at me for a heartbeat longer before pivoting sharply and striding out of the kitchen, his boots striking the tile floor with a rhythm of disapproval.

I blinked at the empty doorway. “Well, good morning to you too,” I muttered under my breath.

Moments later, Leo sauntered into the kitchen, looking as casual as ever, his hair tousled, suggesting he hadn’t enjoyed a restful night. He paused, casting a glance over his shoulder in the direction Tylon had stormed off, then turned his attention back to me.

“What was that all about?” he inquired, his brow furrowing slightly.

“Beats me,” I replied, grabbing the spatula and flipping another pancake with a practiced flick of my wrist. “Maybe he’s allergic to maple syrup.”

A smirk tugged at the corners of Leo’s lips. “Doubtful. He’s got thicker skin than that.”

He stepped closer, but then froze in a manner remarkably similar to Tylon’s earlier reaction. His gaze dropped to my neck, and a flicker of recognition passed over his features. Instead of anger, however, there was something softer—something that resembled sadness.

He didn’t speak immediately, simply exhaling through his nose, murmuring, “Oh.”

“Oh what?” I asked, narrowing my eyes suspiciously.

“I understand why he looked like he wanted to throw something,” Leo replied, his voice steady yet laced with concern.

I frowned, turning off the stove. “Care to enlighten me?”

Before Leo could respond, the back door swung open with a creak.

Caden strolled in, his hair slightly damp, his shirt clinging to his chest in a way that was entirely distracting. That infuriatingly cocky grin—the one that had incited half of our arguments—was firmly in place.

“Morning, sunshine,” he greeted, leaning down to plant a quick kiss on my cheek before I could evade him. The warmth that followed coursed through me, reaching all the way to my toes, and I despised that he was aware of this effect.

“Morning,” I mumbled, attempting to sound unimpressed.

His gaze landed on the plate beside me, and without a moment’s hesitation, he snatched a strawberry.

“Hey!” I protested, half-amused, half-annoyed.

“Or you,” Leo muttered under his breath, a hint of humor in his tone.

I shot him a sharp look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Leo hesitated, then regarded me with a careful expression. “Nothing bad.”

Before I could press him for clarification, Caden lightly elbowed him. “Don’t psychoanalyze my brother before breakfast.”

“Fake-brother,” Leo shot back, a grin spreading across his face.

“Brother,” Caden insisted firmly, already shoving a piece of pancake into his mouth. “Now, cat before Maya thinks I didn’t appreciate her cooking.”

I watched them for a moment—the playful banter, the camaraderie between them—and for the first time since everything had spiraled out of control, the tension in my chest eased just a fraction.

They were infuriating, confusing, and occasionally dangerously reckless, but they were also the reason I was still standing here, alive.

Maybe this was what healing looked like… awkward pancakes and half-hearted arguments.

The laughter faded as I caught sight of a flicker of movement outside the window—something dark and quick slipping between the trees at the edge of the forest.

For a heartbeat, I thought I had imagined it. Then the air shifted ever so slightly, and the fine hairs on my arms stood on end, a shiver of unease crawling up my spine.

Caden followed my gaze, his expression tightening as he sensed my discomfort. “What is it?”

“I thought I saw…” I trailed off, shaking my head as if to dismiss the thought. “Nothing. Probably nothing.”

But even as I spoke those words, that faint pull in my chest—the one that had lured me into the woods before—began to stir again.

And this time, it didn’t feel like a mere dream calling me.

It felt like something very much awake.