be, it helps to fortify me for some reason.
Two people stand up from the center of the last row of tables, and Muriel leads us to them.
“Welcome, welcome, we are so very happy to have you. We don’t get visitors often, so this is a treat for us,” the large man standing bellows at us.
He looks like the human version of the Ghost of Christmas Present from The Muppet Christmas Carol. His red beard sways as he talks, and he bounces on the balls of his feet like he can barely contain his enthusiasm. I immediately like him.
“My name is Fedor Volkov. I am the alpha of this pack, and this is my mate, Manya Volkov.”
He gestures to a tall lean woman with silvery-blonde hair and dark depthless eyes. She smiles sweetly at us and dips into a tiny little curtsey.
“I’m Mateo Torrez, formerly of the Silas pack, and this is my mate, Vinna Aylin,” Torrez introduces in return.
“Oh, Aylin is it?” Manya asks, and her focus on my last name makes my hackles rise with worry. “You didn’t take your mate’s last name?”
I breathe through the rush of adrenaline, “Um, no I didn’t,” I tell her stiffly, and she nods at me politely.
“Come, sit, we’re just getting ready to serve the first course,” Fedor commands, and he motions to a space on the bench directly across from him. “Muriel informed us that you’ve only been in Belarus for a couple weeks; what brings you to this part of the world?” Fedor asks us as he settles himself on his side of the table.
I’m shocked how easily I understand Fedor and his wife. They have accents, but they’re not so thick that it’s a struggle to follow what they’re saying. I’m insanely curious how they’re English is so good, but I don’t want to be an asshole and risk being rude by asking them.
“Um, we’re here to join some family that was checking out the area,” I answer Fedor’s question vaguely.
I sit down, and Torrez wraps his hands around my waist and pulls me closer to him, which makes Fedor and his mate chuckle. I look around the table, and everyone is sneaking peeks at us and chatting quietly. Manya raises her hand, and on cue, people pour out of the closest cabin, carrying trays overflowing with food. They spread out around the tables that are filled with shifters and start handing out plates. A bread bowl with some type of thick soup or stew is set in front of me, and steam rises off the top, tempting me with its delicious smell. I move to grab the spoon that’s been set next to the plate, but Torrez stills my hand, covering up the movement by intertwining his fingers with mine and bringing our hands back under the table.
I look at him curiously, but he just jerks his head in the direction of the alpha. I pause to look around and realize that everyone is watching him and waiting. Alpha Volkov scoops up the thick soup and shovels a bite into his mouth. He savors it for a moment and then swallows it. He turns to his mate and watches as she does the same thing. When Manya is done with her mouthful of food, the alpha gives a nod, and everyone else sitting at the tables digs into their meal. Torrez releases my hand and reaches for his spoon.
I take a cautious bite of the soup, and it’s all I can do not to spit it out. It’s fucking hot as hell! I form an O with my lips and breathe rapidly, hoping the cool night air might somehow help the molten food on my tongue burn a little less. Motherfucker. I blink away the water in my eyes and grab the cup in front of me to help ease the second degree burn I just gave my tongue. The smell of beer hits my nose as I take a deep pull from the cup, but the liquid is cool, and I’m pretty sure I just scalded off all of my taste buds, so this beer could taste like rotten piss, and I’m none the wiser.
I don’t miss Torrez’s snicker as he blows on his spoonful of soup and watches me wiggle in discomfort. “The food was steaming, you know. That’s usually an indication that it’s hot,” he teases.
“I’ll have you know that I was lulled into a false sense of security by the big ass bites Fedor and