Page 99 of Chased By My Grumpy Alpha
The dessert is vanilla cake with berry sauce. I watch her take the first bite; her eyes close in bliss, and a soft sound escapes her that pleases me immensely.
“Oh,” she breathes. “Oh, this is incredible.”
“Good.”
When she finishes, she sets the money pouch on the table between us. “Here. This is your hard-earned money. You should keep it. I can’t be responsible for this much gold.”
I don’t take it. “Why not?”
“Because…what if I lose it? What if someone steals it?”
“Then, I’ll get more.”
She stares at me like I’ve grown a second head. “You can’t just get more gold, Lucian. It doesn’t work that way.”
If only she knew. “It does for me.”
“That’s impossible.”
I push the pouch back toward her across the table. “Keep it, Astra.”
“I won’t touch it,” she says firmly, crossing her arms and leaning back from the table.
I see the stubbornness in her jaw and reluctantly take the pouch, tucking it back into my coat.
As we prepare to leave, I catch her glancing out the window, where the sounds of the festival are growing louder. The musichas picked up, and I can see colored lights strung between buildings.
“We’re not going back to the room yet,” I tell her.
“No?”
I stand up, offering her my hand. “The festival. You’ve never been to one, and now, nobody can stop you.”
She stares at my outstretched hand like it might bite her. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?”
She just sits there, looking uncertain. I can see the internal debate playing out across her face. Curiosity wars with caution, and want battles with fear.
Finally, slowly, she reaches out and takes my hand.
The festival is in full swing when we emerge into the town square. Lanterns hang overhead, casting a warm, golden light over the crowd. Musicians play on a small stage while couples dance in the space cleared before them. Food vendors hawk their wares from colorful stalls, and children with sticky fingers and bright smiles run around among the adults.
Astra stops just inside the square, her eyes wide as she takes it all in. Through our bond, I feel her wonder mixed with uncertainty, as if she’s not sure she’s allowed to be here.
“It’s so...” she starts, then trails off.
“So what?”
“Alive,” she finishes. “Everyone looks so happy.”
I watch her face as she absorbs the scene—her lips parting slightly in amazement, her eyes darting from one attraction to another like she’s trying to see everything at once.
“Where do you want to start?” I ask.
She bites her lip. “I don’t know. What do people usually do?”
“Whatever they want.”
