Page 12 of Fat Forced Mate

The pack members retreat, and Melissa ducks her head a little, cowed. She’s always listened to him, always respected him. I’m pretty sure he’s the only person she’s ever respected in her life, with how much of a hellion she was as a teenager. I remember when she was little, how Nic would show up to protect her when he was worried she was being picked on in the playground. That stopped quickly, as soon as he and everyone else realized it was likely her victims who needed defending more than her. She could take care of herself just fine.

Not that anyone ever defended me, of course. Not until now.

“She shouldn’t be here,” Melissa mutters darkly, loud enough for all of us to hear it. “You know how having a pack full of hybrids and humans and witches and god-knows-what makes us look, Nic. God forbid you mated one.”

Nic moves so fast that I barely see it. Suddenly, he's in front of his sister. For an absurd moment, I think they’re going to fight, but instead, he just puts a hand on her shoulder, turning her from me firmly.

“Go home, Melissa,” he says, that Alpha authority still in his voice. “Just go, alright?”

She scowls at him without heat, glares once over her shoulder in my direction, and then heads off up the path after her friends, not looking back. I wonder whether it might be possible that she’s grown up a little in these years, and then promptly decide it definitely isn’t.

"Nic," I whisper despite myself, immediately wishing I’d covered my own mouth in time to keep that in.

Body angled between me and his retreating sister, the Alpha glances at me. There’s a sort of unreadable intent in his eyes as he peers at me. He says nothing, but doesn’t look away, and I don’t either.

"Rest," Nic orders, and his tone isn’t any gentler. He’s still giving orders. I wonder when he became so used to it as to do it so well. "James, stay with her. I need to handle this. Our packmates shouldn’t behave like schoolchildren on the eve of the lottery."

Out of the corner of my eye, I see James nod, some of his characteristic levity returning. “Don’t be too harsh on Mel, Nic. You know her bark is worse than her bite.”

That makes me bristle. James watched her torment me for years. We both know her bite and her bark alike would have killed lesser women than I. How could he say that? Has he somehow forgotten?

But Nic doesn’t seem to read anything into the comment. He gives James a pensive glance, something hard in it, and sets his jaw.

“See you tonight,” he says, presumably to both of us.

With that, he strides away, every line of his body promising retribution. I should feel grateful for his intervention, but mostly I feel hollow. Tired. Half a decade of independence,of building strength, and I still needed to be rescued. I still need my brother and his best friend to rescue me.

Maybe I should be happy, in some twisted way. In all the times I’ve needed rescue before, it’s never actually come.

"Luna." James comes up beside me, resting a hand on my arm. “You good? You’re very pale.”

I look up at my brother, seeing worry in his eyes. Whatever he was about to tell me about our parents' death suddenly feels vital, connected to everything happening now. But exhaustion pulls at me, and my magic remains frustratingly out of reach.

"Fine," I manage. "I need... I just need a minute. I’m going to go to the creek, I think. I need to clear my head.”

“Some things never change,” James jokes, and it makes me feel unwell.

For a while, until I can get my breath back enough to head uphill to the woods, to my safe place, he settles us on a bench nearby, at the front of the slightly unkempt yard, the half-dead lawn thick with little yellow patches and the occasional burrow of some woodland creature. There are three or four sizable birds’ nests up in the oak tree, standing strong even as the leaves fall, their little yellow shapes twirling down through the air around us. We sit in silence as the sun sets behind our childhood home, casting long shadows across the garden where our parents died.

Something is very wrong here, some part of me registers, though it isn’t my conscious mind. If I didn’t know better, I’d call it my hindbrain, the wolf I never got, the wolf who never came to rescue me from my own personal hell. I can feel it in my bones, in the hollow space where my magic should be. Something is wrong.

Chapter 6 - Dominic

The sun hangs low over my pack’s territory as I make my final patrol of the evening. Tomorrow's lottery weighs heavy on my mind, along with the stack of reports about increased enemy pack activity that I should be reviewing. Instead, my feet carry me toward Shadow Creek, drawn by an achingly familiar scent.

Lavender. Sage. Magic.

Luna stands at the water's edge, copper hair glowing in the sunset, a startlingly vibrant glow. She's changed from earlier, wearing a simple green sundress that makes my wolf whine with recognition, layered with a soft white cardigan to keep out the chill. How many evenings did we meet here in secret, planning futures that now seem impossible? How many promises did I make and break on these banks?

She tenses as I approach, though she doesn't turn. "Isn't it beneath an Alpha's dignity to skulk around in the woods?"

"Probably." I stop a few feet away, close enough to catch the subtle changes in her scent—anxiety, anger, and underneath it all, a trace of arousal she can't quite hide. "But then, following protocol isn’t as much of a concern for me as it might be for my subordinates. I guess you know that."

"No?" Now she does turn, green eyes flashing. Against the cool, green light of the forest, the gentle glow of the setting sun through the cooling air, she’s a striking image. "Could have fooled me. Your father was always so concerned with rules and tradition—you look like him these days, you know, yousoundlike him. Tell me, Nic, does it bother you that the lottery might pair you with a hybrid? Or have you convinced yourself it won't choose me?"

My wolf snarls at her tone, but she’s not wrong, I realize. For all that having her here has torn my world in two, it hadn’t once occurred to me that in any possible world, cruel or kind, she might be chosen.

The lottery chooses right, after all, every time—that’s what my grandmother has always said, what the history books always say. And I may want her more badly than I’ve ever wanted anything, but it is undeniable that Luna and I aren’tright.Not for her, not for me, not for the pack. Not for my legacy. Not for her freedom. The two most important things to us, and our union would destroy both.

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