Page 16 of Fat Forced Mate

Victoria nods, satisfaction flickering across her features. "The candidates are accepted. Let the choosing begin."

She opens the ancient grimoire, and power floods the clearing. The torches flare impossibly high, casting writhing shadows through the incense smoke. Wind that shouldn't exist whips through the trees, carrying whispers in a language I almost recognize.

My magic responds instinctively, wanting to rise to meet the ancient power, but I squash it inside of myself, trying to keep a leash on its thrashing. Beside me, Ruby grabs my hand in silent support. Across the altar, Nic's expression remains carefully blank, but his wolf eyes glow amber in the strange light.

The choosing has begun.

Victoria raises the silver chalice, moonlight catching on its etched surface. The ancient grimoire floats before her, pages turning by themselves in the magical wind. Power builds in the clearing until my teeth ache with it, until every torch flame stretches toward the stars.

"By moon and magic, by blood and bone, we call upon the ancient wisdom." Her voice echoes strangely, as if multiple voices speak through her. "Show us the path to pack strength. Guide us to the union that will secure our future."

She pours the sacred water over the altar stone. Instead of running off the edges, it pools in the carved symbols, beginningto glow with an inner light. My magic surges in response, recognizing something kindred in the old power.

"The lottery wasn’t really random, you know,"my mother's voice echoes in memory."It saw what the pack needs, even when the pack itself is blind..."

The glowing water begins to move, flowing between symbols in impossible patterns. Victoria's eyes go completely silver as she reads the signs. The wind rises to a fever pitch, and I swear I hear wolves howling in it, though every pack member stands silent.

Then everything stops. The wind dies. The torches steady. In the sudden stillness, silvery light rises from the altar, forming letters in the air.

LUNA CATHERINE MORGAN.

My name.

For a moment, nobody moves. Nobody breathes. The letters hang there, undeniable, casting their soft glow over shocked faces.

Then the chaos erupts. Everyone starts shouting at once.

"Impossible!"

"She must have cursed it!"

"—must have rigged the ceremony—"

"—an insult to pack tradition!"

Melissa's voice rises above the others, sharp with fury. "This is a farce! She's not even a real wolf!"

More voices join the outcry, years of prejudice finding outlet. The crowd surges forward, anger and fear thick in the air. There are suddenly bodies all around me. Someone shoves mefrom behind. Another person spits at my feet. Ruby tries to stand between me and the worst of it, but she's pushed aside.

"Enough!"

Nic's command cracks through the clearing like a thunderbolt, his voice so loud and low it breaks the air. He raises one hand, and the crowd freezes. Pure Alpha power rolls off him in waves, demanding submission. Even I feel the weight of it, though I've never responded to wolf dominance.

"The lottery has chosen." His voice is perfectly controlled, emotionless. When his eyes meet mine, they're colder than midwinter frost. "Its decision is sacred and binding."

"Brother, you can't seriously accept this!" Melissa gestures at me like I'm something she found on her shoe. "She'll taint our bloodline! Weaken the pack!"

"The ancient laws are clear." He might as well be discussing the weather for all the feeling he shows. "All candidates knew the risks when they agreed to participate."

All candidates.Not Luna. Not his former lover. Not the woman he once claimed to want forever. Just another candidate, to be dealt with according to pack law.

Agreed to participate.I want to be sick. I want to throw up. If I threw up right here, maybe they’d take pity on me and throw me out again.

"She's right, though." A male voice calls from the crowd. "How do we know the witch didn't use magic to influence the choice?"

Fury and humiliation war in my chest. After everything I've survived, everything I've built, I'm still just hybrid scum to them. Still something to be feared and hated.

My magic responds to my emotions, exploding outward before I can stop it. Blue-white power crackles around me like lightning, making the nearest pack members stumble back. The display would normally exhaust me, but something about the ceremony's lingering power feeds my own, amplifying it beyond anything I've experienced.

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