Fangless: The Alpha's Vampire Mate
Chapter 117: Bonfire Blunders

Chapter 117: Bonfire Blunders

There was a bonfire. Of course, there was. Another delightful werewolf event Riona would’ve happily skipped if Thorin hadn’t personally dragged her into it.

"I need you to consciously make an effort, Riona," he said in that voice that always made her feel like she was being asked to write an essay on why she shouldn’t roll her eyes at werewolves.

Thorin’s priority was maintaining peace within his pack, along with his carefully crafted reputation.

He desperately wanted the pack to see Riona from his perspective—a perspective that, apparently, she had been absolutely terrible at showing.

After all, she wasn’t Charna, the pack’s favorite contender for being Mrs. Klein with her deep roots in the pack.

No, Riona was just a vampire who had somehow wandered into werewolf land and, to everyone’s surprise, gotten engaged to their precious leader.

The pack had made it crystal clear they were team Charna and firmly believed she should be Thorin’s Luna. And now here he was, trying to convince them that, actually, his vampire fiancée wasn’t so bad.

Naturally, forcing them to accept her would go over about as well as throwing a silver necklace into their Christmas stockings.

"You don’t have to fit in, because let’s be real, you never will," Thorin added. "But maybe try not to make them hate you more than they already do?"

Thorin understood that the only way to preserve his reputation—and to keep Riona by his side—was to win the pack over, to make them accept her on their own terms. Only then could peace be restored.

"You’re going to be here for a very long time, and things will get real uncomfortable for everyone—including you—if there’s bad blood hanging around," Thorin said, all wise and serious, like a werewolf life coach.

Of course, Thorin meant this as encouragement, but the way Riona heard it: "Play nice or pack your bags."

In her mind, failing to play nice would mean getting kicked out of Wintertooth altogether. And with Florian still unconscious, that wasn’t a risk she could take.

Besides, there was no way she was leaving behind those precious artificial blood packs from the Crimson Vitae Workshop.

They were hard enough to come by in the first place, and no way was she going to trade them in for some wolf-approved raw meat diet.

With a sigh so deep it could’ve cracked the earth, Riona dragged herself to the bonfire, her enthusiasm somewhere in the negative zone.

Another beach event, just like the first feast the furballs had thrown to celebrate Thorin’s grand return to Wintertooth.

The sun had dipped below the horizon, finally making the world safe for her skin. Without the threat of spontaneous combustion, Riona ditched her usual sun-avoidance gear.

Wearing just a thin top and shorts as she trudged toward the gathering werewolves. She was fully prepared to be the least festive person on this godforsaken beach.

Children’s laughter reached her first, high-pitched giggles echoing through the air before the scene came into view. Little pups were chasing each other in a frenzy—at least, until they noticed her.

A few of them skidded to a stop, wide-eyed, before one turned to his mother and asked, loudly enough for everyone to hear, "Mother, isn’t she the sacrifice?"

Yep, that’s right, kid, Riona thought with a mental eye roll. Queen Thin Eyebrows’ special sacrificial lamb. Except I’m not a lamb—I’m a vampire, and I bite back.

After the pint-sized werewolves had finished staring her down, they quickly resumed their hyperactive chaos.

Meanwhile, Riona was left to deal with the aftermath: a fresh wave of sinister glares and judgmental looks from the adults.

Apparently, they were still holding a grudge over her choice of attire at the last morning ritual. Like it was her fault Queen Thin Eyebrows chose to make her the rude sacrificial offering!

And, of course, her abrupt escape from that little horror show. How dare she refuse to be their sacrifice?

The werewolves had formed a massive circle around the roaring bonfire, breaking off into smaller groups.

Some were busy telling stories, others were reading bedtime tales to the pups. A few were even singing and dancing as if they were at some woodland rave.

Charna was right in the middle of the story-sharing circle, naturally surrounded by her adoring fan club. Vesper the Mr. Sass-Mouth was nearby, probably ready to spit out his next verbal attack.

And of course, Queen Thin Eyebrows was in attendance, still enjoying the success of her prank.

Riona caught Charna’s eye for a split second and was greeted with what could only be described as a worried look.

Riona snorted, barely resisting the urge to roll her eyes. Worried, seriously? Charna’s little display of fake empathy didn’t fool her for a second.

The irony, of course, was that Charna actually did feel bad—she blamed herself as if this whole mess was somehow her fault. Apparently, she thought that if she hadn’t let Margo deliver the news, Riona wouldn’t have walked straight into the disaster.

She had even scolded Margo after the morning ritual, but Margo, predictably, couldn’t have cared less.

Charna had considered apologizing to Riona but ultimately decided against it. No need to pour salt on the wound while it was still fresh. Or, in this case, rub garlic into the vampire’s open wounds.

After about ten seconds of enduring the glares and judgmental looks that could only be described as hostile artwork, Riona decided sitting with the werewolves was definitely not in her best interest.

Well, Thorin can’t say I’m not participating! she thought. I’m here. What more do you want? A medal?

Dragging her feet like she was trying to avoid stepping in a puddle of slime, she made her way to the edge of the beach. She found a little hideout behind a massive rock.

It offered the perfect blend of seclusion and still being within earshot of the bonfire. She could pretend to be part of the festivities without actually dealing with them.

If she managed to stay hidden here throughout the bonfire, she should be safe, right? Wrong!

It was Riona’s own fault for ever thinking she could enjoy a moment of peace. After all, why would these werewolves leave her alone when they had so many creative ways to torment her?

As Riona plopped down on the sand, trying to get comfortable in her makeshift hideaway, she noticed a shadow with a truly impressive hairdo looming over her.

The blazing bonfire behind her turned the shadow into a dramatic silhouette—one that made it immediately clear who had arrived.

Of course, it had to be Trudy. The hypocrite.

"What are you doing here?" Riona snapped, glaring up at the imposing figure now standing near the rock.

Seriously, how did Trudy find me?