{"id":259380,"date":"2026-07-13T16:57:31","date_gmt":"2026-07-13T13:57:31","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/1kitap1.com\/en\/enchanted-by-my-alphas-violet-dawn\/"},"modified":"2026-07-13T16:57:31","modified_gmt":"2026-07-13T13:57:31","slug":"enchanted-by-my-alphas-violet-dawn","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/1kitap1.com\/en\/enchanted-by-my-alphas-violet-dawn\/","title":{"rendered":"Enchanted By My Alphas – Violet Dawn"},"content":{"rendered":"
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Every time she plays a good word, she lights up, and I make sure to celebrate obnoxiously. Every time Calder plays something, I accuse him of cheating, which makes her laugh. And I\u2019m shameless about finding reasons to touch her\u2014leaning over to see her letters, our shoulders pressing together. Guiding her hand to place a tile. Celebrating our points with high-fives that linger. Calder watches with amusement and something else\u2014approval, maybe. Like he\u2019s glad I\u2019m here making her laugh while the storm rages outside.<\/p>\n

\u201cYour turn,\u201d I tell Evie, and she studies her tiles with that little furrow between her brows that makes me want to kiss it smooth. \u201cI can\u2019t\u2014I don\u2019t have anything good.\u201d She shows me her letters: a bunch of vowels and one sad consonant. \u201cSure you do.\u201d I lean closer, my chin nearly on her shoulder. \u201cSee? If you use Calder\u2019s \u2018R\u2019 right there, you can play \u2018ARE\u2019 for\u2014\u201d I calculate quickly.<\/p>\n

\u201cSix points. Not bad for a terrible hand.\u201d \u201cThat\u2019s all?\u201d She sounds disappointed. \u201cSometimes you get dealt bad letters, flower girl. Can\u2019t win every round.\u201d I squeeze her knee over the blanket. \u201cBut watch this. My turn\u2019s gonna be amazing.\u201d I play \u201cQUIXOTIC\u201d using all seven of my letters and hitting a triple word score. \u201cShow-off,\u201d Calder mutters. \u201cIt\u2019s called strategy.\u201d I grin at Evie. \u201cSee? Patience pays off.<\/p>\n

Unlike some people who rush into playing the first word they see.\u201d \u201cI don\u2019t rush,\u201d she protests. \u201cYou absolutely rush. Cute when you do it, though.\u201d She throws a tile at me. I catch it and hand it back with a wink. We play three more games\u2014Evie and I win one, Calder wins two\u2014and by the time we\u2019re done, the storm outside is even worse and Evie\u2019s completely relaxed.<\/p>\n

Her scent has gone from nervous to content, and she\u2019s leaning into me without seeming to realize it. \u201cI should make dinner,\u201d Calder says, standing and stretching. \u201cAny requests?\u201d \u201cSomething impressive,\u201d I call after him. \u201cWe have a guest to wow.\u201d When he disappears into the kitchen, Evie turns to me. \u201cYou didn\u2019t have to come over. I\u2019m sure you have better things to do than play board games.\u201d \u201cAre you kidding? This is exactly where I want to be.\u201d<\/p>\n

I shift to face her properly. \u201cBesides, can\u2019t let Calder have all the fun. Someone needs to keep things interesting.\u201d \u201cInteresting?\u201d There\u2019s something in her tone. Curious. Maybe hopeful. \u201cYeah. Interesting.\u201d I brush a strand of hair from her face, letting my fingers linger against her cheek. \u201cHe\u2019s steady. Patient. All the things you need.<\/p>\n

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I stand in the doorway with my last box balanced on one hip, taking in the honey-gold afternoon light that spills through wavy glass windows. The wooden floors creak under my boots\u2014a friendly sound, welcoming rather than warning. Everything smells like old pine and winter cold and possibility. Home. Or at least, it could be. I set the box down beside three others and peel off my coat, draping it over a chair that came with the furnished rental.<\/p>\n

The furniture is mismatched but charming: a faded floral armchair, a kitchen table with uneven legs, shelves that look hand-carved. Nothing like the pristine, coordinated perfection my mother insisted on. My chest tightens at the thought, so I push it away and focus on unpacking instead. The first box yields my candle-making supplies\u2014beeswax sheets, cotton wicks, small amber jars. I line them up on the kitchen counter, my fingers already itching to blend scents again.<\/p>\n

Lavender and honey. Rosemary and sea salt. Creating something that soothes without asking for anything in return. The second box is herbs: bundles of dried sage, jars of chamomile and lemon balm, a small mortar and pestle wrapped in kitchen towels. I arrange them on the windowsill above the sink where morning light will find them. A tiny indoor garden, portable and mine. The third box makes my throat catch. I lift out the moss-green knitted blanket first, the one my grandmother made before she passed.<\/p>\n

Then the chipped teacup painted with forget-me- nots. A wooden bird, no bigger than my thumb, that I found at a market three years ago. Small things. Soft things. Things that never demanded I be anyone other than who I am. I\u2019m draping the blanket over the back of the armchair when someone knocks. My pulse skitters\u2014too fast, too anxious\u2014and I take a breath before opening the door. The woman on my porch is round and rosy-cheeked, bundled in a wool coat dusted with snowflakes.<\/p>\n

She\u2019s holding a basket covered with a red gingham cloth, and her smile is so genuinely warm that I feel my shoulders drop half an inch. \u201cYou must be Evie!\u201d She doesn\u2019t wait for confirmation, just beams at me like we\u2019re old friends. \u201cI\u2019m Stella Willowby. I run the bakery down on Maple Street\u2014The Sweet Hollow. Saw your car and thought you might need a little welcome.\u201d<\/p>\n

She thrusts the basket into my hands before I can respond. It\u2019s heavier than expected, and the scent of cinnamon and brown sugar makes my mouth water. \u201cOh\u2014thank you, that\u2019s so kind, but you didn\u2019t have to\u2014\u201d \u201cNonsense.\u201d Stella waves a hand, already peering past me into the cottage.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.<\/em><\/p>\n

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