Page 19 of Alien Charming (Alien Wolf Tales #3)
CHAPTER 19
E lli woke to the sound of birds outside her window. For a moment she forgot where she was, the unfamiliar ceiling confusing her sleep-addled mind. Then it all came rushing back—the ceremony, Seren, her aunt’s cruel words, and her flight into the night.
She sat up and hugged her knees to her chest, taking no comfort from the pretty bedroom.
What now? The question pressed down on her like a physical weight. Her aunt’s house had never been a home, but it had been a shelter, a place to exist. Now even that was gone, which meant there was nothing for her here. The village that had never accepted her would certainly close ranks against her now. Her aunt would spread stories—just as she had about Elli’s mother—and the villagers would believe them without question. They always did.
She traced the pattern on the colorful quilt as she tried to come up with a solution. Perhaps she could find work in another village. But what skills did she have? Other than her gardening, she’d been little more than an unpaid servant, and no small village would need a gardener.
And Seren…
Her heart constricted at the thought of him. Last night had felt like magic, like a dream. He’d been caught up in it as well, but what could come of it? He was the Vultor leader, and without the magical dress she was just… Elli. Nothing special. Nothing worthy.
She hugged her knees tighter, replaying every moment of the night before. The way he’d looked at her, the intensity of his kiss, the feel of his hands on her body. Heat filled her cheeks at the memory. She’d responded so eagerly—too eagerly perhaps.
What must he think of her now? Her aunt’s words, her accusations about her disgraceful behavior, replayed in her mind. Was that how he saw her too? As some wanton girl throwing herself at him?
She groaned and buried her face in the pillow. Men of importance—especially leaders like Seren—surely expected more restraint, more dignity. He’d seemed to appreciate it at the time, but he’d pulled away first, hadn’t he? Had she embarrassed him with her forwardness?
“He probably regrets it all,” she whispered to herself, throat tight with unshed tears.
The sunlight streaming through the window caught dust motes dancing in the air. Her mother used to call them “fairy dust” when she was small. If only her mother were here now to guide her.
Freedom and terror twisted together in her chest. For the first time in her life, no one controlled her movements, her choices. No one told her what to do or how to be. The possibilities stretched before her, vast and unknown, as she finally swung her legs over the edge of the bed.
A familiar satchel had been placed on the bench at the end of the bench and her chest ached as she picked it up. Agatha must have retrieved it from her aunt’s house. Everything she owned in the world fit into one modest satchel.
The smell of something cooking drifted up to her room and she sighed, knowing she couldn’t hide away forever. Agatha had been nothing but kind, and the least she could do was face the day and help the older woman.
She pulled one of her grey dresses out of the satchel, wishing she had something better to wear. Something that might make her feel less like the disheveled, disgraced creature her aunt had named her. She started to pull her hair back in the usual tight knot, then stopped, staring at herself in the mirror.
Freedom had to begin somewhere.
She created a loose braid instead, then slowly made her way down the narrow stairs, each step carrying her further from the safety of solitude. The cottage was warm and bright in the morning light, the herbs hanging from the rafters filling the air with their earthy scent.
Agatha was in the kitchen, humming to herself as she stirred something in a pot on the small stove. She turned when Elli entered, her weathered face breaking into a smile.
“There you are, child. I was beginning to think you’d sleep the day away.”
“I’m sorry,” she said automatically, tugging nervously at her braid. “I should have been up earlier to help.”
“Nonsense. After last night, you needed your rest.”
Her cheeks burned. “About last night… I behaved terribly, didn’t I?”
Agatha’s eyes crinkled at the corners as she waved Elli’s words away with a wooden spoon. “Behaved terribly? By enjoying yourself for once in your life? By dancing with a male who couldn’t take his eyes off you?”
“It wasn’t just dancing,” she confessed, and Agatha smiled at her.
“I didn’t think it was, dear. But you have no reason to feel ashamed.”
“But my aunt said?—”
“Your aunt,” Agatha interrupted, “has spent years trying to dim your light. And do you know why?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “Because you shine too brightly, child. Just like your mother did.”
“Is that why she ran away?” she asked, remembering her thoughts from the previous night. “Because of my aunt?”
“I believe so, and unfortunately, she made a poor choice. You have not.”
She sank into a chair at the small kitchen table, the familiar weight of shame easing slightly at Agatha’s words.
“I ran away,” she whispered. “I just… left him there.”
Agatha set a steaming mug of tea in front of her. “And what would you have done differently, with Margaret breathing fire down your neck?”
She wrapped her fingers around the warm mug, letting the heat seep into her skin. What would she have done differently? The question hung in the air as she thought back to every moment with Seren.
She remembered his voice in the garden, deep and gentle. The way he’d listened to her—really listened—when no one else ever had. How his eyes had lit up when she’d arrived at the ceremony. The tenderness in his touch when they’d danced. The gentle way he’d held her after she came apart in his arms.
Most of all, she remembered how he’d pulled back afterwards—not in disgust or disappointment, but with such careful restraint. He was protecting her, she realized suddenly.
“I should have trusted Seren,” she said softly.
Agatha nodded, a knowing smile playing at her lips. “The Vultor mate for life, child. They don’t give their hearts lightly.”
“I shouldn’t have run,” she admitted, the truth of it settling in her chest.
“It’s not too late to fix that,” Agatha said, patting her hand. “The question is, what do you want, Elli? Not what Margaret wants, or what the village expects, or even what Seren wants. What do you want?”
She stared into her tea, watching the steam curl upwards. What did she want? No one had ever asked her that before. Her entire life had been dictated by her aunt’s demands and the village’s expectations.
“I want…” The words caught in her throat, unfamiliar and frightening. She took a deep breath and tried again. “I want to see Seren. I need to explain why I ran away.”
The moment she spoke the words aloud, a weight lifted from her chest. Yes, that was exactly what she wanted. Not just to explain, but to see him again, to be near him.
Agatha’s eyes twinkled. “Then what are you waiting for, child?”
“What if he doesn’t want to see me?” She twisted her fingers in her lap. “What if he’s angry or disappointed?”
“That male looked at you like you hung the moon and stars,” Agatha said firmly. “Trust an old woman who’s seen enough of life to recognize love when it’s standing right in front of her.”
Love. The word sent a flutter through her stomach. Could it really be possible?
“Do you know where I can find him?”
“I can show you a path that leads up to the Vultor enclave. And avoids the village entirely,” Agatha added with a smile as she guided her into the main room and opened a small chest. She pulled out a simple but well-made dress in soft green. “Here. This should fit you well enough.”
She touched the fabric reverently. “I can’t take this.”
“You can and you will.” Agatha pressed it into her hands. “No more hiding behind drab clothes and tight knots. It’s time you felt as beautiful as you truly are. Now go and change. The day isn’t getting any younger, and neither am I.”
Twenty minutes later, she stood at the edge of the woods, her heart hammering against her ribs. The dress fit perfectly, making her feel more like herself than she had in years. Agatha had packed her a small bundle of food and given her precise directions.
“Remember,” the old woman had said as she’d hugged her goodbye, “you have nothing to be ashamed of. Hold your head high.”
As she took her first steps under the canopy of trees, those words echoed in her mind. The forest welcomed her with dappled sunlight and the soft rustle of leaves. For the first time since she could remember, she felt hopeful—truly hopeful—about what lay ahead.