Seems appropriate.
Chapter thirty
Naomi
The town square is lit up like a Christmas card.
Lights twist around every lamp post and shop front. The massive Christmas tree in the center stretches toward a star-filled sky, and a huge bonfire crackles in a stone pit nearby, sending warmth and the scent wood smoke into the cold air.
I take it all in slowly, letting the magic of it settle into me.
"Everyone really comes out for this," I murmur, watching the crowd. Families with children perched on shoulders, bundled in puffy jackets and knit hats. Elderly couples walking arm in arm, teenagers clustered in giggling groups near a hot chocolate stand…
"It's the highlight of December," Felix says, his fingers laced through mine. "Might even top Christmas itself, depending on who you ask."
We find a spot in the crowd with a good view of the tree, and I end up sandwiched between Silas and Liam, with Felix behind me. I'm not sure they realize how much I like being surrounded by them.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" Mayor Hanson's voice carries over the murmur of conversation, amplified by speakers set up around the square. He stands on a small platform near the tree, holding an enormous glass angel in his arms. It shimmer in the firelight and the glow of a thousand tiny bulbs. "Welcome to our annual Angel Ceremony!"
The crowd quiets immediately. Children are lifted higher to see. A hush falls over the square.
"Every year, we gather here to place our angel and make our wishes for the coming year." The mayor's voice is warm. "This year especially, after that game tonight—" He shakes his head, grinning. "I think we all believe in Christmas miracles now."
Laughter ripples through the crowd. Someone shouts "Go Puckers!" from somewhere behind us, and scattered applause breaks out. Felix waves sheepishly when a few people turn to look at us.
The mayor climbs a ladder positioned against the tree. The crowd holds its collective breath as he stretches up, up, up… and places the angel on the very top.
She settles perfectly into place.
And then the tree blazes to life.
Thousands more lights burst on at once on the tree and he crowd erupts. Children shriek with joy. Someone near the bonfire starts singing "O Christmas Tree," slightly off-key but others join in. The sound swells, wonderful in its imperfection.
I find myself singing along on the second verse, lost in the music while my alphas' hands settle gently on me.
The song ends, and a band starts up with "Silver Bells" on a makeshift stage nearby.
"I'm going to grab some cider," Liam says, leaning down so I can hear him over the music. He disappears into the crowd.
While he's gone, Felix tugs me into a gentle sway.
"I can't dance," I warn him.
"Neither can I," he admits cheerfully. "Must mean we're perfect for each other."
Silas watches us with amusement, arms crossed, clearly thinking he's above such things. Felix isn't having it. He reaches out, grabs Silas by the sleeve of his jacket, and yanks him into our little orbit.
"Felix—"
"Nope. You're dancing. It's an order."
"But you're not the captain."
"Just move your feet."
Unlikely as it seems, we're swaying together, bumping into each other and laughing. And here, amongst the crowd, something settles in my chest. Belonging, maybe.
Liam returns several minutes later, balancing four steaming mugs carrying a scent of cinnamon, cloves and something slightly spiced I can't identify.
