Page 18 of Curvy Alpha Bride
“Oh, my,” Mabel says. “That is wonderful.”
“Spiced cider,” the woman answers, bowing and smiling. “My own recipe.”
“I’m honored,” Mabel replies. “I love the cups and bottle, too. Did you make them?”
“I did,” she says. “You’ll find a set waiting for you back at the alpha’s cabin, my personal gift to you.”
“You’re very kind, ah…”
“Mary.”
“Mary. Thank you.”
As the rest of the townsfolk come forward one by one, I can see Mabel getting a bit overwhelmed. All of them have brought personally made gifts—sweets, cakes, clothes, or trinkets—and they clearly want Mabel’s approval.
Or her blessing. It almost feels like with her favor, she grants them power or protection.
I shake off the thoughts, trying to get into the spirit and enjoy myself. It’s slightly better with other people around, and Mabel and I aren’t forced to deal solely with each other.
In spite of this, I can’t stop watching her. When the younger women gather around and draw Mabel into conversation, she seems to relax a lot more, and I feel a faint flicker of hope somewhere deep in my soul.
Hoping for what? Her eternal love? Forget about it, buddy.
“Xavier,” Hector says, reaching out to draw me into a small group of men. “How does it feel to be officially mated?”
“Ah… good, I guess. It’s a bit weird.”
“Of course it is,” Ivan says. “But you’ll get used to it quickly. The two of you have an important duty.”
“Tell me, boy, what more do ya feel?” a guttural, harsh voice cuts through the others, and I see a wizened old fellow named Marcus standing behind Ivan.
He knew my father. He’s probably the oldest person in this town.
“Oh, hope for the future, excitement about my bride,” I say. “What else should I feel?”
Marcus shuffles forward and grabs my hand, staring into my face with big, milky blue eyes.
“Do ya feel a pull towards the peaks, and hear a singing like a siren song, beggin’ ya to run in the forest at night?”
“Stop it,” mutters Ivan, and I see Aunt Serra suddenly look up and cut through the crowd.
“Enough, Marcus!” she snaps. “Eileen, will you take him home? No more brandy for him tonight.”
“Mark me!” he yells as Eileen escorts him from the room. “It ain’t over!”
“What the hell?” I mutter, not even realizing I spoke aloud.
“It’s nothing!” Serra says, taking my hands and giving them a reassuring squeeze. “We’re full of superstitions out here, old ones that no longer carry any weight. Don’t trouble yourself.”
“She’s right,” Hector agrees. “We can move on with our lives now, and there’s nothing to fear. Finally, we have a luna and a strong alpha who can lead the pack with her.”
It sounds like there’s meaning behind their words I can’t grasp, but I assume they’re talking about the war with Gryphon Eyrie.
That’s why they sent me away when I was young, because of the war. They are really paranoid about danger here, but I suppose it makes sense. They’re so isolated, it wouldn’t be easy to get any help.
Serra steers me over to Mabel and the small group of girls. They are all talking excitedly as they share cider and brandy, and Mabel seems to have really loosened up. One of the girls, a delicate creature with very long, straight brown hair, has an arm around Mabel’s waist.
“Good to see you fitting in so well, my dear,” Serra says as we break into the circle. “I see dear Dove has gotten quite attached.”
