Page 13 of Curvy Alpha Bride
I struggle with my thoughts for a moment, wondering what I’ve gotten myself into. Eventually, though, I know neither the rock nor the hard place is going to move, and all I can do is go forward.
As I turn the corner, I get the faintest whiff of a rich, sweet scent, like entering a carnival, where the fried chicken, cotton candy, fries, and waffles have all combined into one magnificent smell.
I hurry into the garden, eager to chase down the delicious scent. It takes a few seconds for my ridiculously slow brain to catch up.
Only one person smells like that!
As I enter the rose garden, I see her standing in front of me, and for a moment, I feel like I’ve wandered into a dream. She has her back to me, sunlight cascading down her long, dark, curly hair, making it glint with a hidden shimmer of ruby. Time seems to stop, as if I’ll be caught here on the edge of a dream for eternity, just watching Mabel with her back turned to me.
Then the spell breaks, and she turns around. She spins so fast, her long red skirt lifts and swishes around her legs. As she faces me, her hands clench into fists. She puts them on her broad hips, thrusting her chest out as she glares at me.
The silence between us is strung so tight, I know the slightest word from either of us will shatter it in a spectacular fashion. There is so much tension built up, it feels like reality will crack if we don’t move soon.
Run, I tell myself. Just fucking turn around and run!
I can’t!
She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and I can’t take my eyes off her. The soft red dress drapes over her curves, sweeping down at the top to frame her huge, soft breasts. My hands almost ache with the urge to grab her, press her body against mine, and squeeze her hips, breasts, and thighs in my big hands.
“Xavier,” she says, and her voice is almost—but not quite—even.
“Mabel,” I mutter, my voice husky.
“What are you doing here?” she asks, folding her arms under her breasts. When they bounce upwards, my mind goes completely blank.
“Xavier!” Mabel snaps after a full minute of silence.
“I… I’m meeting someone,” I choke out. What are you doing here?”
Mabel cocks her head to the side, and her eyes narrow. “Meeting someone? What do you mean? Why would you come all the way to Cyan Lock for a meeting? If it were official, you’d be at Town Hall, not the rose garden.”
“Porter’s,” I mutter, still struggling with my words. “I came to see Iris Porter.”
“What?” Mabel asks, visibly paling.
“I need a luna, so I applied, and Iris told me to come out to the garden—”
“No fucking way!” Mabel yells, swiftly crossing the distance to stand in front of me. Her breasts bounce with every stride, and I can’t stop my eyes from locking onto her chest.
“I don’t know what you’re doing right now,” Mabel says, her lip trembling a bit. “But you need to go.”
“Mabel,” I say, a little confused. “Why are you here?”
“I live in Cyan Lock, remember? You don’t.”
“I know that!” I shout, exasperated. “But why take a walk in the rose garden today, right now?”
Mabel stares at me, her pretty, dark gray eyes flashing as if far-off lightning is preparing to strike. “I think I’m here for the same reason as you,” she finally says.
Her words are soft, but they hit me so hard, I stagger back as if I’ve been shot.
“No,” I mumble.
“You don’t get to be upset!” she snaps, her harsh tone barely covering her obvious trembling. “Not after what you did, not after the night we shared together—”
“Mabel, listen to me. Things happened that day. I tried to handle it as best I could—”
“You didn’t handle it at all!” she yells. “You just ran! You fucking left town!”
