Page 11 of Alien Charming

“Meet? At the edge of the woods—much like you and Seren.”

Heat flooded her cheeks. “We just… talk sometimes.”

“Mmm.” Agatha didn’t press the point, and she quickly returned to the original subject.

“What happened to him?”

“He found his true mate—another Vultor.”

“True mate?”

“The Vultor experience what they call a mate bond—a permanent lifelong bond to their chosen mate. I had hoped…”

The old woman’s voice trailed off, her eyes looking into the past.

“And they only feel that for another Vultor?” Elli whispered, an unexpected ache in her chest.

“I thought so, but Finnar and Scarlett proved me wrong. And now Tessa and Korrin. I don’t know—the Vultor were more numerous then, before the massacres.”

“Massacres?” she gasped.

“Your history lessons conveniently omit that part.” Agatha’s expression darkened. “Not that the Vultor were entirely blameless either, but once the cycle of violence began it was hard to stop.”

“How did it end?”

“I’m not sure that it did. From what I’ve heard, there are still incidents—on both sides.” Agatha sighed. “As far as I know, no one has ever attempted what Seren is trying to accomplish. But old prejudices die hard, especially when people like your aunt find them useful.”

She knew her cheeks had heated again at the mention of his name, but she did her best to keep her voice composed.

“Is that why she’s pushing for the trade alliance? To use them somehow?”

“Margaret has never done anything that didn’t benefit Margaret first,” Agatha said tartly, then reached across the table and covered Elli’s hand with her own. “The Vultor aren’t monsters, child. But they aren’t tame either. They feel deeply, love fiercely, and remember everything—both kindness and cruelty.”

“Then why do people hate them so much?”

“Because they’re different. Because they’re powerful, and because no one can control them.” Agatha smiled sadly. “And because most people don’t look past their fear to learn the truth.”

She nodded slowly, thinking of the people in the market square. It would be easier, in some ways, to let herself believe the lies, to think of Seren as a monster, but she knew better.

Agatha let her sit with her thoughts until she’d finished her tea. When she rose to leave, the old woman handed her a small bundle wrapped in paper. “For you,” she said. “To help with your garden.”

“Thank you, Mrs.—I mean, Agatha. For everything.”

She left the cottage and walked home along the edge of the woods, hugging the package of seeds and dried herbs. The sun had already begun its descent, casting long shadows across the trail. She’d stayed much longer than she’d intended, but she couldn’t bring herself to regret it.

Agatha had been in love with a Vultor. The knowledge still stunned her. The old woman had shown her a small carved wooden pendant—a token from the male she’d loved—and the tenderness in her eyes when she spoke of him had made her heart ache.

“Remember that your Seren is the alpha,” Agatha had said as they parted. “It could… complicate things, but don’t let fear steal what might be precious.”

Her cheeks warmed again at the memory.My Seren. The words felt both terrifying and right in a way she couldn’t explain.

She paused at a bend in the trail, looking up into the mountains. Vultor territory. Somewhere in that ancient forest, Seren was leading his people. Was he thinking of her as she was thinking of him?

What would it be like to touch his hand? To stand close enough to feel his warmth? The thought sent a shiver through her that had nothing to do with fear.

The village teachings had always painted the Vultor as mindless beasts—violent, unpredictable, dangerous. But when she remembered Seren’s careful distance, his thoughtful questions about her plants, the way his deep voice softened when he spoke of his hopes for peace between their peoples… she couldn’t reconcile those moments with the stories she’d been told.

He’d been nothing but gentle with her. Respectful. Curious.

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