Page 9 of Alien Charming (Alien Wolf Tales #3)
CHAPTER 9
E lli knew she shouldn’t go with Seren. Her aunt would be apoplectic if she knew—walking alone with a man at night was scandalous enough, but with a Vultor? Aunt Margaret would lock her in her room for a month.
“I shouldn’t,” she whispered, even as she followed him towards the forest path.
His eyes softened. “I’ll have you back before anyone notices. I promise.”
The excitement of the small rebellion hummed through her veins. For once, she wanted to do something simply because she desired it, not because it was expected or demanded.
“All right,” she said, surprising herself with the firmness in her voice.
He shortened his long stride to match hers, and for a while they walked in companionable silence. The forest welcomed them with a symphony of night sounds—the soft hooting of an owl, the rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze. Moonlight dappled the path ahead, creating pools of silver amid the shadows.
“Why did you come back?” she asked finally.
“I came to make sure you were all right. Your aunt shouldn’t treat you like that.”
The simple admission warmed something inside her that had been cold for too long. No one had checked on her wellbeing in years.
“I’m used to it,” she said, but the words sounded hollow even to her own ears.
“You shouldn’t have to be.”
He paused to look down at her. Moonlight filtered through the branches, catching on the silver strands in his dark hair. Standing before him in her drab clothes, she felt small and insignificant, yet the way he looked at her—as if she were something precious—made her stand a little taller as they resumed walking.
When her foot caught on an exposed root, his hand shot out to steady her, his touch warm through the thin fabric of her sleeve. He didn’t let go immediately, instead guiding her around a fallen log with a gentle pressure at her elbow.
“Careful,” he murmured. “The path gets treacherous here.”
The protective gesture made her feel cherished in a way she’d almost forgotten. Not smothered like with her aunt’s controlling ways, but genuinely cared for. The familiar surroundings of the forest comforted her, reminding her of simpler days when her mother was still alive. His presence beside her felt like a shield against the world that had been so cold to her for so long.
“I used to play in these woods as a child,” she said softly, “before my mother died. She would bring me here. Sometimes to gather plants, but other times just to have fun.”
He guided her around a particularly dark patch of ground. “Your mother sounds like a wise woman.”
“I always thought so. She taught me about plants—which ones heal, which ones harm—even though my aunt never approved. She said proper ladies don’t dig in the dirt.”
His low growl of disapproval sent a shiver down her spine—not of fear, but of validation. Someone else saw the unfairness of her situation, the cage her aunt had built around her.
“Why does she keep you hidden away like that?” he asked, echoing her thoughts.
“My mother was her younger sister—her half-sister,” she began hesitantly. “She left the village when she was eighteen. Aunt Margaret never told me why, just that she was ‘wild’ and ‘ungrateful.’”
Moonlight filtered through the branches above, casting his face in silver and shadow as he listened.
“When my mother returned, she was alone and pregnant with me. No husband, no explanation.” She swallowed against the tightness in her throat. “Aunt Margaret took her in, but never let her forget what she called her ‘disgrace.’”
They reached a small clearing where moonlight pooled on the forest floor, and she stopped, lost in memories of the past.
“After my mother died, Aunt Margaret told me I had to be kept away from certain… influences. That I might have the same weakness as my mother. That’s when she started saying that I was simpleminded, that I need her guidance for everything. That without her I’d end up just like my mother—ruined and alone.”
He remained silent, but she could feel the tension radiating from him.
“She tells everyone in the village that I’m a burden she charitably keeps from becoming homeless. That I’m emotionally unstable.” She gave a humorless laugh. “I suppose if you hear something often enough, you start to believe it might be true.”
The words hung in the night air between them. She’d never spoken these truths aloud before, had carried them like stones in her pockets, weighing her down with each step. She half-expected him to offer polite sympathies or awkward reassurances. Instead, he moved closer, his presence solid and comforting in the moonlit clearing.
“Your aunt is wrong about you,” he said, his voice low and certain. “I’ve watched you tend your garden, solve problems, navigate the village despite how they treat you. There’s nothing simple about your mind, Elli.”
His words wrapped around her like a warm blanket, and she blinked back tears, unused to such kindness.
“Sometimes I wonder what my mother would think of me now,” she whispered. “If she’d be disappointed.”
He shook his head. “From what little you’ve told me of her, I think she’d be proud of your strength.”
Her throat tightened. “I miss her so much, even after all these years. She used to tell me stories about magical creatures in these woods. She’d braid flowers into my hair and teach me the names of every plant we found.”
A tear slipped down her cheek, and she brushed it away quickly.
“When she died, it was like all the color drained from my world. Aunt Margaret packed away her things the very next day. Said it wouldn’t do to ‘dwell.’ But I still have her journal of plant drawings hidden under a loose floorboard in my room.”
He put a big hand gently on her shoulder, and the warmth of his touch seeped through the thin fabric of her dress.
“Grief isn’t something to be packed away,” he said softly. “My people believe our loved ones live on in the stories we tell about them.”
She leaned into his touch, drawing comfort from his steadiness.
“What was her name?” he asked.
“Catherine.” The name felt strange on her tongue after so many years of disuse.
He inclined his head. “May Catherine’s spirit fly free and watch over you.”
The words brought an unexpected lump to her throat. It had been so long since she’d allowed herself to speak of her mother aloud, let alone share memories with another. Another tear trickled down her cheek before she could catch it. The mention of her mother’s name had unlocked something inside her, a well of grief she normally kept tightly sealed.
He gave a low growl, the sound vibrating through the night air, then stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her. The sudden embrace startled her—not from fear, but from the unfamiliarity of being held. How long had it been since someone had comforted her?
His body was warm, almost feverishly so, and solid as the ancient trees surrounding them. She stood frozen for a moment, overwhelmed by the sensation of being enveloped by his big body. His scent filled her senses—wild and earthy and unexpectedly comforting.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered against his chest, embarrassed by her tears.
His arms tightened slightly, one big hand coming to rest at the back of her head. “Don’t apologize for honoring her memory,” he murmured, his deep voice rumbling through her, and she let herself relax into his embrace.
The steady rhythm of his heartbeat against her ear anchored her, calming the storm of emotions that had threatened to overwhelm her. His hand moved in gentle circles on her back, the gesture so tender from someone so physically imposing that fresh tears welled in her eyes.
In his arms, the weight she carried every day—her aunt’s criticism, the village’s judgment, her own doubts—seemed lighter somehow. She breathed deeply, letting herself accept the comfort he offered.
“Thank you,” she whispered, the words inadequate for the gift he’d given her—the simple act of being seen, of being held when she needed it most.
She looked up at him, a tentative smile on her face, and found him watching her. His eyes were warm and compassionate, the golden depths reflecting the scattered moonlight filtering through the trees. The tenderness in his gaze made her breath catch.
But as they looked at each other, something shifted. The warmth in his eyes didn’t fade—it intensified, transforming into something else entirely. Something hungry. His pupils dilated slightly, the golden irises seeming to glow more brightly in the darkness.
Her hands, still resting against his chest, felt the sudden acceleration of his heart beneath her palms, and she swallowed hard, suddenly aware of how close they stood, of how her body fit against his. A warm, unfamiliar sensation unfurled low in her belly, spreading outwards until her skin felt too tight, too sensitive.
His big hands still held her gently, but she sensed the restraint in them now, the careful control he maintained. One of his thumbs brushed against the small of her back, a touch so light it might have been accidental, yet it sent a shiver racing up her spine.
The night sounds of the forest faded to a distant hum as her focus narrowed to just this moment, just this male holding her as if she were something precious. Her lips parted slightly as she drew in a shaky breath, and his gaze dropped to her mouth, lingering there with an intensity that made her feel both vulnerable and powerful at once.
When he’d kissed her before it had been so unexpected that she hadn’t had time to do anything except respond. But now, in the intimate darkness of the forest, she found herself wanting his kiss, longing to experience that intimacy again. She tipped her chin up, an invitation and a plea all at once. His eyes flicked back to hers, searching, seeking permission, and she gave a tiny nod.
He hesitated a second longer, then lowered his head, his breath warm against her lips as he paused, a hair’s breadth away. Her heart hammered in her chest, and she clutched his tunic, holding onto him like an anchor in the maelstrom of sensation swirling around her.
When his lips finally touched hers, it was a whisper of a kiss, gentle and undemanding. She leaned into him, wanting more, needing to deepen the connection sparking between them. He growled softly, his hands tightening on her waist as he slanted his mouth over hers, the kiss transforming into something more urgent.
She parted her lips to draw breath and his tongue slipped into her mouth, startling her. Her fingers tightened on his shirt, her knees threatening to buckle at the unexpected intimacy. But he held her firmly, one big hand splayed against her lower back, supporting her as he explored her mouth with a slow, deliberate thoroughness that stole her breath.
Her inexperience didn’t matter—she could follow his lead, trusting him as she surrendered to his kiss. When he broke away at last, they were both breathing hard, his forehead resting against hers as if he couldn’t bear to separate from her completely. Her lips felt swollen, her skin flushed and sensitive. She didn’t know what this meant, what they were to each other, but at that moment she didn’t care.