Page 22 of Alien Charming

Go after her, his beast snarled.Bring her home.

The primal voice grew louder with each passing second, drowning out rational thought. Images flashed through his mind—carrying her away from this place of coldness and cruelty, bringing her to his den in the mountains, surrounding her with warmth and protection, making her truly his.

His claws emerged unbidden, digging into his palms until blood welled between his fingers, but the pain barely registered. He’d never felt his beast so close to the surface, so determined to take control. Somehow he managed to turn and stumble away from the house, his breathing ragged. He needed distance. Space. Her intoxicating scent still clung to him, making his head spin and his control fray.

The moment he reached the tree line, he surrendered to the change. Bones cracked and reformed, muscles stretched and bulked, fur erupted across his skin. The transformation was violent, faster than usual, his beast eager to be free. As soon as it emerged, he launched himself into the forest, running with desperate speed. Trees blurred past him, branches whippingagainst his massive body. He leapt over fallen logs and crashed through underbrush, driving himself deeper into the wilderness.

But no matter how fast he ran, he couldn’t outpace the truth.

Mate, his beast insisted with each powerful stride.Need her.

He pushed himself harder, muscles burning, lungs heaving. He ran until the moon reached its zenith and began its descent, until his powerful body trembled with exhaustion. Only then did he slow, collapsing beside a stream in a remote part of the forest.

He lay beside the stream until dawn broke over the mountains, his beast form gradually receding as exhaustion claimed him. When he finally shifted back to his normal Vultor appearance, he remained motionless, staring at the water rushing along the stream.

Control. His entire existence had been built upon it. Control over his beast. Control over his emotions. Control over his pack. Responsibility and duty had been his companions for decades, leaving no room for selfish desires.

Until Elli.

He closed his eyes, but that only made it worse. Her scent lingered in his memory along with the taste of her lips and the small sound she’d made when he’d pulled her against him.

“She can never be mine,” he whispered to the forest.

The words tore at something deep within him. His beast, momentarily subdued by exhaustion, stirred again at the denial.

Mate.

He pressed his palms against his eyes, but the truth was undeniable—he had found his mate in a human woman half hisage, raised in isolation, who knew nothing of his world or the violence that shaped it.

For the first time in his life, he wanted something purely for himself. Not for his pack. Not for peace between their peoples. Just for him.

He wanted Elli’s smile directed at him each morning. Her gentle hands tending plants in a garden he would build for her. Her body pressed against his through the long mountain nights. Her voice, her laugh, her touch—everything that made her Elli.

And because he wanted her so desperately, he knew he could never have her.

CHAPTER 11

Elli slipped back into the house, her fingers pressed to her lips, still feeling the warmth of Seren’s kiss. She tiptoed up the stairs, careful to avoid the third step that always creaked, and made it safely to her room.

Once the door closed behind her, she leaned against it and closed her eyes, replaying every moment. The gentle pressure of his arms around her, the surprising softness of his lips, the rumble in his chest when she’d responded to him. Her heart fluttered at the memory.

She changed into her nightgown and climbed into bed, pulling the quilt up to her chin. The smile wouldn’t leave her face, even as she stared up at the darkened ceiling.

But then doubt crept in, cold and insidious.

How eagerly she had pressed herself against him. How readily her lips had parted. How she had clutched at his shoulders, wanting to draw him closer still.

Aunt Margaret’s voice echoed in her mind:“Just like your mother, no sense of propriety.”The accusations that her motherwas loose and wanton had been part of her upbringing for as long as she could remember.

She turned onto her side, curling into herself. What must Seren think of her? A proper lady would have pulled away, would have shown some restraint. Instead, she had melted into him like snow in spring sunshine.

Was that why he’d sent her away? Had her eagerness disgusted him? He was, after all, a leader among his people. Someone important. Someone dignified. And she had thrown herself at him like some desperate, touch-starved creature.

“Oh, God,” she whispered into the darkness, mortification burning through her. Had she ruined everything?

She pulled the pillow over her head, as if she could smother the memory of her behavior. What if her aunt was right? What if she truly was like her mother—weak and wanton and destined to bring shame to herself?

The happiness of moments before curdled into something sour and heavy in her chest. She squeezed her eyes shut, but sleep remained elusive, her mind tormenting her with the possibility that she had driven away the one person who had looked at her and truly seen her.

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