Page 6 of Alien Charming (Alien Wolf Tales #3)

CHAPTER 6

T he next morning Seren stalked through the forest, jaw clenched tight enough to make his teeth ache. The memory of Elli’s treatment in the village had haunted him throughout a sleepless night. Humans could be cruel to their own kind in ways that rivaled even the most territorial Vultor disputes.

He slowed his pace as he approached the garden’s edge, catching her scent on the breeze—that sweet, clean scent that made his chest tighten. She knelt among her plants, gently turning soil with a small trowel, seemingly lost in the work.

His anger softened at the sight of her, but didn’t disappear. The villagers’ contempt for this gentle creature made no sense. Their blindness to her worth was incomprehensible.

“They don’t deserve you,” he said without preamble, stepping into view.

She startled, dropping her trowel, but her face brightened when she recognized him, and his beast growled approvingly at that look.

“Seren. You came back.”

“I said I would.” He moved closer, towering over her garden plot but careful not to trample anything. “I saw how they treated you yesterday.”

Her smile faltered. “Oh. That was nothing unusual.”

“That’s what angers me most.” He crouched down, bringing himself closer to her level. “Why do you endure it?”

Dropping her eyes, she picked up her trowel again, brushing dirt from its handle with careful fingers. “Where would I go? What would I do?”

Live with me. Become my mate.

He had to bite back his immediate response.

“Your aunt spreads lies about you.”

“Yes.” She looked up at him, grey eyes clear and direct. “But she’s the only family I have. And I know the truth about myself. That has to be enough.”

The determination in her voice made his heart clench. He wanted to wrap her in his arms, to protect her from the world that had treated her so unfairly. But instead he simply nodded.

“It’s more than many can claim.”

She turned back to her work, and he watched her in silence, marveling at her skill. The garden was like a living extension of her, thriving under her care despite the hardships she faced.

He hesitated, then gently touched a leaf on one of the plants between them. “What is this one?”

“Lavender.” Her voice softened. “For peace and calm.”

“Does it work?”

A small smile played on her lips. “Sometimes.”

He watched her carefully, searching for signs of the bitterness he’d expect from someone treated so poorly. Yet her expression remained serene as she turned the soil around her plants.

“I’m used to it,” she added with a small shrug. “They don’t know any better.”

Her capacity for forgiveness bewildered him. Among the Vultor, such treatment would have warranted challenge or at minimum, a severing of ties. His people held grudges for generations. Yet this slip of a female dismissed cruelty with understanding.

“You defend them?” The words came out harsher than he intended.

“Not defend, exactly.” She looked up, squinting against the sun behind him. “Most haven’t bothered to know me. They just repeat what they’ve heard.”

His jaw tightened. Such willful ignorance seemed inexcusable to him. His judgment of others was built on careful observation and measured responses, not gossip.

“Besides,” she continued, her cheeks suddenly flushing pink as she looked back down at her plants, “I had something more important on my mind today.”

The change in her scent was immediate—a sweetness that made his nostrils flare. His pulse quickened in response.

“I was…” she hesitated, fingers nervously twisting a leaf, “looking forward to seeing you again.”

Pleasure surged through him, and he had to fight the urge to drag her into his arms and never let go. He knew he should be thinking about ways to bridge the gap between their people, but instead he found himself wanting to forget everything except this moment, with her.

Her eyes flicked up to him again, uncertainty and hope warring within their depths. “Is that strange?”

“No, little one.” His voice came out rough. “Not strange at all.”

She smiled, and he realized it might become his new addiction. Her entire face transformed when she was happy—her eyes brightening, her cheeks glowing. And her lips—they looked so soft and inviting that he had to clench his fists to resist the urge to touch them. To taste them.

“I know it’s silly,” she added, dropping her eyes again. “We barely know each other.”

He crouched lower, trying to catch her gaze. When she finally looked up, the vulnerability in her eyes made his protective instincts surge. He wanted to shield her from everything—the villagers, her aunt, the harshness of the world that had made her doubt the worth of her own feelings.

“It’s not silly,” he said quietly. “I’ve been thinking of you too.”

Her face flushed pink with pleasure at his admission—stirring something dangerous within him. Something he had no right to feel.

“I shouldn’t,” he said, more to himself than to her.

“Shouldn’t what?” Her eyes met his, innocent and direct in a way that made his chest ache.

He looked away, focusing on the lavender plant between them. Its delicate purple buds seemed impossibly fragile beneath his large scarred hands. Just like Elli would be.

“Want you,” he finally answered, unable to meet her eyes.

“Why not?”

A thousand reasons raced through his mind. The peace alliance he was trying to forge. His responsibilities as alpha. The dangers of his world. But all of that felt distant and inconsequential in the face of her steady gaze, and the way her presence calmed something deep within him.

“You deserve better than an old warrior’s company,” he said finally.

To his surprise she gave a soft laugh. “Old? You can’t be that old.”

“Forty-three winters. Nearly twice your years.”

“And that matters because…?” she asked, the challenge in her voice gentle but unmistakable.

His head jerked up. “Do human females not prefer younger males?”

A small smile played at the corners of her mouth. “Some do, I suppose. But not all.”

He stared at her, unable to tear his gaze from the invitation in her smile. He’d never seen her like this—teasing, flirtatious, playful. It was as unexpected as it was welcome.

“You’d want a battered old Vultor like me?” The question was out before he could stop it.

“Did you have anyone else in mind?” she asked, a teasing glint in her eye.

He shook his head, unable to look away from her. “No one else exists for me.”

The words hung between them, heavy with promise, and the air felt charged, like the moment before a lightning strike. A tiny voice in the back of his mind whispered that he was being foolish, that this would only end in pain for both of them, but he pushed it aside.

Slowly, deliberately, he reached out and ran a finger along her cheek. Her skin was even softer than he’d imagined, and her sharp intake of breath at his touch sent a surge of desire racing through him.

He leaned in, unable to resist any longer. His lips brushed hers tentatively, and her gasp of pleasure sent fire streaking through his veins. He deepened the kiss, claiming her with his mouth, pouring every bit of his longing and desire into the connection.

Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer, and he could feel her heartbeat racing to match his own. The scent of her desire surrounded him, intoxicating and perfect, and it took every ounce of his considerable willpower to break the kiss before they crossed a line from which there was no turning back.

They stared at each other, both breathless, but he forced himself to carefully release her and pull back.

“I should go,” he said, reluctantly rising to his full height. The garden suddenly felt too small, too intimate. “There are preparations to make for tonight.”

“Tonight?”

“The dinner at your aunt’s house.” He shifted his weight, suddenly uncomfortable with the reminder. “I’ll be attending with several members of my pack.”

Her scent changed instantly—anxiety spiking through the sweetness. “You’re coming to Aunt Margaret’s dinner?”

He nodded, fighting the urge to reach out and calm her nerves. “I wasn’t sure if she’d told you. She has invited us to meet with several of the other village representatives. She claims it’s purely a social gathering but…”

“Nothing Aunt Margaret does is ever simply one thing. She mentioned guests but she didn’t give me any details.” Her frown deepened as she glanced back towards the house.

“She didn’t tell you that any Vultor were coming?”

She sighed. “She never tells me anything important, but she’ll be furious if I’m not prepared.”

“I’m looking forward to seeing you there,” he admitted, the words escaping before he could reconsider them. “Even if we must pretend we haven’t met.”

The smile that bloomed across her face was worth his momentary lapse in judgment. Her scent sweetened with pleasure, and he committed that change to memory as well.

“I’ll be the one serving the food and trying not to spill anything on the important guests,” she said with a small laugh.

“And I’ll be trying not to notice how much more interesting you are than anyone else in the room.” The teasing words surprised him—when had he last attempted humor?

His heightened senses registered her every reaction, and he found himself cataloging them like precious artifacts. The sweetness of her mouth. The way her pulse quickened when he teased her. The delicate flush that crept up her neck when their eyes met.

“I should prepare,” she said finally, dropping her eyes. “Aunt Margaret will expect everything to be perfect.”

He nodded, though the thought of her serving others while her aunt took credit for her work made his jaw clench.

“I’ll see you tonight,” he said, allowing himself to brush his hand against her cheek one last time. When she leaned into his touch with a soft sigh, it took all of his self-control to pull away again.

But he had to. Whatever was happening between them was more dangerous than any battle he’d fought. The alpha in him—practical, strategic, responsible—warned against his growing attachment to her. His people needed this alliance. Personal feelings had no place in diplomatic negotiations.

Yet another part of him, the part he’d buried beneath duty and discipline for decades, grew stronger with each encounter. That part recognized something in Elli. Not just her scent, though that drew him like nothing before, but her quiet strength. Her resilience. The contrast between her gentle nature and the steel in her spine fascinated him. She endured daily cruelty without becoming cruel herself. That kind of strength was rare among any species.

Mate , his beast snapped, impatient with his restraint. Protect.

The impulse to claim her was nearly overwhelming, but he knew he had to tread carefully. She was human, not Vultor. He had no right to demand her submission. It was madness to even consider it, but as he left the garden, the need to return to her side tore at his insides. The thought of her living in the same house as the woman who treated her so poorly made him snarl. His people valued family and pack above all else. To treat one’s kin as a servant, to deny them the love and support they deserved—that was anathema to everything the Vultor held sacred.

She is ours , his beast insisted. Ours to protect. Ours to claim.

He wanted to believe it. Wanted it more than he’d wanted anything in a long time. But as alpha, his first responsibility was to his people, and he couldn’t risk everything they’d worked for on the whisper of a promise.

She deserved someone strong enough to fight for her, to choose her without hesitation. Someone free to love her without reservation.

Someone who wasn’t him.