Claimed By My Alpha Stepbrother.

25

Azriel

Later that night, I watched Seraphina, her chest rising and falling as she turned in her sleep. She was exhausted. After everything we'd gone through these past few days, I could feel her finally relaxing around these people.

The women had fussed over her like mother hens—one had braided her damp hair while another pressed an extra bowl of stew into her hands. She'd eaten until her eyelids drooped, and when I'd finally guided her to the bed, she'd murmured something unintelligible and curled into the clean sheets like a cat.

I pulled the thin blanket up to her chin, my fingers staying on her cheek. I didn't want to move my hand and thankfully, she didn't wake up.

I smiled, admiring how beautiful my stepsister was. Her lips were full, her eyelashes dark and long. She was so trusting. Who slept this deeply in a place they knew nothing about?

I shook my head and quietly slipped out of bed, making sure not to wake her. Outside, the village was peaceful now; only the sounds of crickets and birds filled the air. Certain she wouldn’t awaken anytime soon, I made my way to the small cooking area where someone had left a collection of utensils.

After searching around, I finally found something useful: a kitchen knife. It wasn't much, but it would do—better than nothing at all. I tucked it into the back of my waistband, pulled my shirt over it, and headed out.

One could never be too cautious. I would have been dead by now if I had trusted people so easily. My past and the darkness within me had made me defensive.

I moved quietly through the village. It was larger than it appeared that afternoon, with a total of twenty-three huts arranged in a rough crescent shape surrounding a central area for cooking. Most of the huts were small, but there were three larger ones closer to the center. I sneaked into one and took a look around; it contained just foodstuffs—bags of grains and two large, oddly-shaped metal drums holding water. Only God knew what they were made from. It seemed they all stored their belongings together and functioned as one big family, which was remarkable given their level of trust in one another.

The other two huts were less populated; one housed various utensils and weapons while the other was empty except for a few wooden benches arranged in rows—a likely gathering place for the village, more like a communal hut.

Not far from the village was a stream that flowed clean and clear, tasting refreshing when I scooped some into my mouth.

They had literally gotten the perfect spot to settle in. Based on the number of huts and the number of people I saw during the day, I estimated about forty to fifty people. That was excluding the children since they didn't sit still long enough for me to make out their faces, let alone count them.

Everything seemed normal. They seemed harmless to me. Even ignorant, I would say. Who leaves their weapons and protective utensils in a barn and goes to sleep? There was no sense of security at all. Compared to them causing issues, now I was more worried about their lax security being the death of all of us.

We'll need to work on that and other things.

Everything was in place and we could survive the night so I went back to our hut and sneaked back into bed with Seraphina, she stirred, snuggling into me before falling back into oblivion.

***

I woke up before dawn the next day. The life of a special force agent. Sleeping in was a huge no, especially not in new territory. Seraphina was still dead to the world, one arm thrown over her head, her mouth slightly open. I planted a soft kiss on her forehead and smiled when she furrowed her brows, mumbling something about going away, waving her hand dismissively even in sleep. Whatever she was dreaming about, I hoped it wasn't me.

The village was already alive when I stepped out of the hut. Women were tending the pots while little children carried metal and clay pots to the stream.

A group of men yawned as they greeted the women, patting the children's heads fondly. Three of them held wooden sticks in hand while the others held axes and guns that obviously needed a bullet refill every two seconds. Though I doubted they'd ever needed to use one.

I couldn't help shaking my head. Before they could even shoot a bullet with that, half of the village would already be dead. Seraphina and I weren't in the safest region but we weren't also in the wild.

This place was serene, giving my mind some peace. I almost didn't miss my old life and the constant buzzing of the city. They didn't have every modern thing needed to live but they had love, contentment and unity in their small remote world. A value the rest of the world had long lost replaced by greed for power, money and ego.

One of the men noticed me almost immediately. "Who—oh. The new man." He straightened up, placing his wooden stick on his shoulder. "You're up early."

"So are you." I extended an arm. "Azriel."

"Kofi," he replied, taking my hand. He was a young man, probably around his early twenties, with dark brown eyes and rich black hair. His posture was good, and he was strong. Only a little silly. Would probably get better after a few days of training.

"Your girl?" he asked, obviously referring to Seraphina.

"Still asleep," I replied. "We've been through a lot these past few days."

He nodded, scratching the back of his head. "Come. Everyone's eager to see you."

Everyone was indeed eager to see me.

They wouldn't stop asking questions. Where are you from? How long have you been stuck on this island? What were you and your wife going to do in Millbrook?

I tried my best to give simple answers that wouldn't reveal too much about us but would still satisfy their curiosity.

When they asked about Seraphina, I didn't deny their assumption that she was my wife. Instead, I asked, "Why do you think she's my wife?"

Old Maren chuckled, looking up from whatever she was stirring in the big pot. "We know when a man loves a woman. It's obvious you treat her like a precious jewel. You wouldn't even take your eyes off her when you ate yesterday. It wasn't hard to guess."

I smiled, my heart gladdened so much to hear that.

I love her?

They think we're a couple?

Just thinking about it made the wolf growl softly in contentment. But I wasn't capable of the emotion love. This was lust and desire and I found comfort in entangling with her mind and body.

Old Maren wouldn't stop grinning, her blue eyes twinkling with mischief. She was the oldest woman in the village and obviously looked after everyone like a mother. She was one of the original residents of the village. Apparently, she'd moved from her hometown when the terrorists infiltrated it seven years ago. They came under the guise of being refugees and had suddenly turned against them.

Most of the men had died protecting their home, and she and a few of the remaining ones had run for their lives instead of waiting there to be killed. It had taken them days to finally get to a place safe enough for them to settle down. The village chief was one of those who'd left their home.

Everything she said made sense, but it also left me more perplexed. They were betrayed by refugees but still took in unknown people?

It made no sense, so I asked, "If you were really betrayed by those you took in, then why are you still so welcoming?"

Because from my own viewpoint, they hadn't learned their lesson.