Claimed By My Alpha Stepbrother.

27

Seraphina

The women wouldn't stop fussing over me.

"Your husband is very handsome," Mary said, her brown eyes sparkling as she dusted flour from her forearms. She'd kept circling me like a curious bird. "And the way he looks at you? I wish mine looked at me the same way."

I opened my mouth to correct her, but Gika, a tall woman with a bright headwrap, cut in with a laugh. "Don't even try to deny it, dear. We've all seen it."

"Men like that don't come around often," Nia chimed in, a baby strapped to her back. She nudged me with her elbow, grinning. "You hold on to him tight."

I felt my cheeks burn. "I—it's not—" But the words died in my throat as the women erupted into giggles.

"Look at her blush!" Gika laughed, clapping her hands. "So shy!"

"She's turning red as a sunset," Mary teased, and the women laughed harder.

I pressed my palms to my cheeks, mortified. I wasn't shy—I was embarrassed. Embarrassed that I couldn't correct them, embarrassed that some small, traitorous part of me didn't want to correct them and enjoyed not just the attention but the fantasy that Azriel was mine. At least just for now and here. But every time I tried, the women talked over me, filling the air with cheerful chaos.

"He couldn't take his eyes off you during breakfast," Nia said, bouncing her baby gently. "Did you see? Every time you moved, his head turned."

"Like a sunflower following the sun," Gika added dreamily.

"You're a lucky woman," Mary said, squeezing my hand. "A man who looks at you like that? Who protects you the way he does?" She pressed a hand to her heart. "Hold him close, child. Hold him close."

My protest died in my throat. My blush deepened, and the women took it as confirmation of my shyness, cooing over me like I was something precious and fragile.

A dangerous part of me wanted to stay in this moment forever. The only thing missing was my mother and stepfather. Probably my technology and some french fries, nachos, tacos and all those delicious greasy meals I was used to. I missed them so much but I loved how kind here was to me.

I was still stammering when a young boy—no older than six—came running, his face streaked with tears. He grabbed Nia's wrapper with both hands, pulling urgently.

"Mama! Mama, come quick! Zara is burning!"

Nia's playful demeanor vanished instantly. She hoisted her baby higher and turned to run, but I caught her arm.

"Wait—I'm coming with you."

Nia looked at me, surprised, but nodded. We hurried through the village to a small hut near the edge of the settlement. Inside, a little girl around four years old lay on a woven mat, her small body trembling. She was covered in sweat, and her breathing was shallow.

"Zara," Nia breathed, dropping to her knees and pressing her hand to her daughter's cheek. Her voice cracked. "She's so hot..."

I knelt beside her, pressing the back of my hand to Zara's forehead, and winced. The fever was high. Very high. This could get dangerous and lead to a convulsion.

Tiny whimpers escaped her lips with every shaky breath.

"Do you have any medicine?" I asked, already scanning the hut for anything useful. "Clean cloths? Water?"

Nia shook her head, her eyes glistening with tears. "We used up the last of our medication two weeks ago. And Rina, who knew how to identify herbs, left around two months ago."

Tears rolled down her face now. "What do I do?" she cried. "I should go call Maren." She was already standing. "She'll know what to do."

"Wait." I stopped her. "Go boil water instead. As much as you can. And find me every clean cloth in this village. We have some medication with us. I'll check if any works for fever."

Nia ran out to boil the water while I ran into our hut and searched through our bag.

I finally found a whole bottle of fever medicine and sighed. "Thank you, Mom."

For the rest of the day, I didn't leave Zara's side. She seemed better after taking the medicine. Then I cooled her with damp cloths, coaxed sips of water between her cracked lips, and sang soft, wordless lullabies when she whimpered in her sleep. I showed Nia how to fold the cloth to trap the coolness longer, how to prop Zara's head up to help her breathe, how to tell when the fever was breaking and when it was worsening.

I was finally grateful for all the first aid classes we took in school in case we ever needed to provide rescue in disaster zones.

By late afternoon, Zara's breathing had evened out. The worst of the heat had faded from her skin, leaving her flushed but peaceful, curled against her mother's side.

Nia wept, pressing my hands between hers. "Thank you," she whispered over and over again. "Thank you, thank you..."

I smiled, exhausted but happy. "She's not out of danger yet. Keep her cool through the night. Come wake me if anything changes."

***

Word spread quickly. By dinner, the women looked at me differently—not just as Azriel's "wife," but as someone who had saved little Zara. They put extra flatbread into my hands, filled my cup to the brim, and spoke to me with a new softness, a new reverence.

After dinner, the village settled into its peaceful rhythm. The men gathered near the fire, voices low and content. The women cleaned and chattered, their laughter gentler now. Children ran in circles.

Azriel stood at the far end of the village center, his shoulders tense despite the easy smile he'd worn all evening. I walked over and took his hand, threading my fingers through his. He looked down at me, surprised.

"Walk with me?" I asked softly.

His thumb brushed over my knuckles. "Of course."

We slipped away from the crowd, the people yelling after us.

"Go on, lovebirds!"

"Don't stay out too late!"

"Be careful."

I saw Maren shake her head, murmuring something about "young blood."

I felt my face heat up again, but I kept walking, pulling Azriel farther from the village center.

When we were far enough that the village was just a glow behind us, I stopped. I turned to face him. The moonlight caught the sharp angles of his face, the uncertainty in his dark eyes, the way his hair fell across his forehead.

He was so handsome. It would be weird not to be crazy over him.

I rose on my toes, slid my free hand to the back of his neck, and kissed him.

It was soft. Just a mere brush of lips, but I felt him stiffen against me, his breath catching, and when I pulled back, his eyes were wide, searching mine.

"Seraphina—"

"The villagers think we're married anyway," I cut in, my voice barely above a whisper. My cheeks burned, but I forced myself to hold his gaze. "We don't have to hold ourselves back."

Azriel went very still. Then, slowly, a smile spread across his face. His hand tightened around mine.

"Is that so?"

I nodded, my heart hammering against my ribs. "Yes."

He lifted our joined hands and pressed a kiss to my knuckles, his lips warm against my skin. "Then I suppose I should stop pretending I don't want to do that again."

I laughed, the sound light and airy, but it faded as I examined his face. Still, he was tensed. I had noticed it at dinner. His gaze often shifted to the tree line, his shoulders alert, and he'd kept questioning the villagers, with a smile that never truly reached his eyes.

"You're still on edge," I said quietly.

Azriel's expression flickered. "I'm not on edge."

"Azriel." I stepped closer, my voice gentle but firm. "I noticed." I paused, tilting my head. "And the women told me... most of what you said about us wasn't true. That we were researchers who were on our Millbrook for a project." I searched his face. "Why are you still on guard? You don't trust them?"

He was quiet for a long moment, running his hand through his hair. "It's not that I don't trust them. It just... it's not bad to be careful, Seraphina. It's risky to just trust people like that."

I sighed, reaching up to smooth the line between his brows with my thumb. "You can relax now. We're safe here. The people are so sweet, Azriel. They welcomed us, they fed us, they—" I thought of Zara, of Nia's tearful gratitude. "They're good people."

No one here expected us to be anything else except our authentic self. There was no pretending. I didn't feel threatened or scared at night.

Azriel caught my hand, holding it against his cheek. His eyes were dark, unreadable. He nodded slowly.

Then, looking straight into my eyes, he asked, "Why did you really want to go to Millbrook, Seraphina?" The warmth in his face vanished so quickly it startled me. "How did you find out about them?" He gripped my shoulder, intently looking into my eyes. "And don't you dare lie to me that you found it off the internet while researching. Millbrook isn't somewhere that pops up when you search Google for places to go on a research basis."

I froze. The warmth from moments ago drained straight out of me.