Page 10 of Fat Forced Mate

"Don't." Her ferocity makes my wolf wild with want. Hybrid or not, she's magnificent when she's angry. I want to quash that anger, want to hold her against the wall andruinher."We are not having this conversation. Not now, not ever. You made your choice five years ago. I've made mine."

She turns to leave, but I catch her arm before I can stop myself. The contact sends electricity shooting through me. Her magic surges in response, and for a moment, the air between us is thick with power and possibility. With memory. Her skin is soft under my fingers, but I can feel the strength in her, the steel core that helped her survive everything the pack threw at her.

"Let go," she whispers, but she doesn't pull away. Her pulse races under my fingers, and I catch a fresh wave of her arousal. She might hate me, but her body still remembers us.

"Luna.” Her name comes out as a growl. My wolf is so close to the surface that I know my eyes must be glowing. Part of me hopes she'll try to pull free, give me an excuse to pull her closer, to remind her how perfectly we fit together. “I just want to talk.”

For a heartbeat, we're frozen in that moment of tension. I can smell something mixing with anger and see how her pupils dilate. The way her tongue darts out to wet her lips.

Part of her still wants me. The knowledge makes my wolf wild with triumph.

Then she yanks her arm free, and the spell breaks. "Stay away from me, Nic. I mean it."

She practically runs from the hall, leaving me with the ghost of her touch and the lingering scent of lavender and desire. My wolf whines in protest, already missing her warmth. Even her anger was better than this absence.

Down,I tell him, and I know it’s a lie. There will be no talk, no second chance, nosoon.I’m about to be mated toanother woman, a woman I won’t get to choose. And then Luna will be gone again, this time for good.

But even as I watch her disappear into the afternoon sunlight, her dress swaying enticingly with each step, I can't help wondering—if I'd made a different choice that night, would she still be mine? Would I be able to follow her now, to wrap her in my arms and bury my face in her hair? To tell her how every day without her has felt wrong, how my wolf has never stopped howling for her?

I have a pack to run. Threats to handle. A lottery to oversee. I shake myself andmove,striding from the room, head held high.

But even as I return to my office, her scent clings to my fingers where I touched her arm. My wolf savors it, hoarding the memory like precious gold.

Chapter 5 - Luna

The old Morgan family house looms before me, weathered brick and ivy-covered walls holding too many memories. It’s not really the Morgan house anymore—it’s James’ house. I haven't ventured this far into pack territory since returning two days ago, but something drew me here today. Maybe it's the approaching lottery, making me seek connections to who I used to be. Maybe I’m trying to get my mind off of how it felt when Nic grabbed me yesterday, how I can still feel the heat of his hand on my skin. Maybe it's just masochism.

"Didn't expect to find you here."

I turn from the door to find James leaning against our parents' favorite oak tree out in the front yard, looking annoyingly at ease in ranger gear. My brother has always worn pack life as comfortably as his own skin. Even now, he radiates that easy confidence that made him popular while I was struggling to fit in. Magic-less, tall, lean, and a powerful shifter, we took opposite halves of our parents’ genetics.

"Just... came to see if it felt nostalgic," I say, gesturing at the house. The garden where Mom taught me about herbs. The window of my old bedroom, tucked away at the top of the house. The back porch where Dad used to tell us stories. In the years since I’ve been gone, someone’s taken down the tire swing in the backyard. There’s no need for it anymore, no children to use it.

James's expression softens. "You know you can go inside. It's still yours, too."

"Is it?" The words come out sharper than I mean them to. "Pretty sure I lost any claim when I ran away."

"Left," he corrects quietly. "There's a difference. I don’t call you a runaway. I don’t let anyone else call you one either, not in front of me.”

I study him, noting the changes the years have wrought. Silver threads his dark hair at the temples—early for his mid-twenties, but pack security is a stressful job, and it makes him look like our father, who also went grey very young. New scars mark his forearms, telling stories of border patrols and territory disputes. But his eyes are the same warm brown as Dad's, holding that familiar mix of affection and uncertainty when he looks at me.

We were close once, before pack politics and starkly diverging social statuses drove us apart. He had always been Nic’s best friend, for as long as I can remember, even before he became the perfect shifter son while I remained stubbornly, embarrassingly two-legged. Before, he stood silent while Nic rejected me in front of everyone.

"How's pack security treating you?" I ask, falling back on safe topics. “You’ve aged.”

"Gee, thanks, Lu. It’s busy. The borders..." He hesitates. "Things are complicated lately."

"So I've heard. Ruby mentioned disappearances in neighboring territories."

Something flickers across his face. "You shouldn't worry about pack business."

"Right. Because I'm not really pack." The old bitterness rises. "Just the hybrid mistake they're forced to include in their precious lottery."

"Luna..." He pushes off the tree, taking a step toward me. "That's not—I never thought of you that way."

"No? Then where were you?" The words burst out before I can stop them. "When they drove me out, when they made my life hell, where were you, James? Too busy being the perfect pack warrior to defend your freak sister? You know I try not to blame you, but it would help if you’d ever apologized for it.”

Pain crosses his features. "I wanted to help. But the politics—"

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