Page 19 of Alien Charming

Elli 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 Iwas 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.

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