Page 15 of Brutal Alpha Beast
Lacey and Sawyer head deeper into the florally decorated reception room, where they join up with friends, family, and their daughter, Shea. Lacey brings Shea to the witches' side of the room and chats excitedly with them.
I suppose Lacey isn’t the only bridge between witches and shifters now.
“So,” I say to Danielle. “Is this your first time as a bride?”
She looks up at me wide-eyed, then her face turns as stiff as it previously was. “Yes,” she says. “Of course.”
I didn’t mean for the comment to be offensive; all I’m trying to do is start a conversation so we don’t have to stand here in awkward silence.
A couple of guests come and offer their congratulations and then walk off.
“The decorations have been done well,” I say. “I suppose the whole floral theme appeals to both our kinds.”
She doesn’t respond.
I eye her briefly, and her face is set like stone; she’s staring off into the distance as though she’s stood here alone.
Like I want to be making conversation, either.
But at least I’m trying, which is more than I can say for her.
“So, how long have you been at the coven for?”
I know that not all witches are born there, and that, as an all-female village, the family structure is very different from what we’re used to at the pack.
She looks startled by my question, and I detect a hint of vulnerability that frustratingly draws me to her, but then, once again, her hostile expression returns.
“A long time,” she says. “How long have you been in your pack for?”
“My whole life.”
“Oh,” she murmurs. “Cool.”
After a while of more excruciatingly strained conversation, interrupted every now and then by witches and shifters wishing their awkward congratulations, I decide I can take no more.
Might as well get this ritual over and done with.
“It’s time to dance,” I tell her without looking. “Are you ready to go?”
She shrugs, walking toward the dancefloor first, and I can’t help but rake my gaze down the length of her subtle curves. Her hips sway in such a way that captures the immediate attention of my wolf.
This only pisses me off more.
I signal to the shifter in charge of the wedding proceedings to start the music for the first dance. Taking a breath, I follow after my bride.
“Here,” I tell her cooly.
She stops.
A violinist begins to play, and we’re standing there facing each other as though we’re about to fight. Why can’t she just make things easy?
I feel the weight of everyone’s gaze and take a step forward.
“You know,” I murmur. “We have to touch to dance.”
I see a hint of vulnerability, soon covered up by her frustrated glare. I want to tell her that I’m feeling just as glum as she’s looking, but I don’t think it will help. I’m not sure what will, at this point.
She sighs. “Okay, you lead the way,Alpha.”
