Page 32 of Fat Forced Mate

"Not now," he murmurs. "She needs to focus on the trials. She needs a clear head for this next one, and you know it.”

When I was a child, and I would entertain myself imagining the triumphs and authorities of being Alpha someday, I always imagined it as unlimited freedom—the total and unceded ability to do whatever I might possibly want. Now thatI’m here, I feel as if I have less freedom than anyone else I’ve ever known.

Thomas studies me, a solid, unyielding look. He squeezes my shoulder once and then lets go.

"It’s all going to be okay,” he says in a low voice. “We’re strong. So is she. Trust that it’ll work itself out, Nic.”

On duty, he rarely calls me by my name. I’m usually Alpha until the quiet moments when I can put down my authority, my responsibility. I feel a swell of appreciation for him, my second-in-command, the steadiest person I know.

“We’re strong,” I repeat, trying to believe it.

Across the room, Luna bends back over the charts, shoulder to shoulder with her brother, exchanging murmured words. But I catch the way her hands shake slightly, the way her magic keeps surging in response to James's news, the continued signs and reports of threats. She's trying so hard to be strong, to prove herself worthy of a place she should never have had to fight for.

I did that,I think, with fresh self-loathing.I helped make her doubt herself. Made her feel unwelcome in her own territory.

If my father were here, he’d tell me the past can’t be changed. But he’s not here, not anymore.

As Thomas leaves silently, I stay rooted in place, watching Luna work. Every now and then, her eyes flick to me, green fire that makes my wolf crazy with the need to close the distance between us.

But I don’t. Some part of me knows I don’t have the right, not now.

Thunder crashes outside, and Luna's magic responds by making every window rattle in its frame. The pack charts flutter around her like leaves in a storm. She looks wild, powerful, and absolutely magnificent, everything an Alpha’s mate should be.

Everything I threw away once before.

My wolf howls our grief to the storm-dark sky, but I force us both to stay still. To watch James guide her through pack politics while fighting down jealousy at their easy rapport. To remember exactly why we don't deserve to cross the room and pull her into our arms.

The storm rages on, and somewhere out there, dark forces gather. But right now, watching Luna shine despite everything we did to dim her light, I know my grandmother's right.

The future is still unwritten. And this time, I won't be the one to write Luna out of it.

Chapter 13 - Luna

The pack meeting room spins lazily around me as Thomas drones on about border security. The Trial of Unity is soon, coming fast, but I can’t seem to focus for the past few days, no matter how hard I try. The ancient wooden walls seem to pulse with each wave of nausea, their carved pack symbols blurring before my eyes. The massive oak table stretches endlessly, every grain in its polished surface suddenly fascinating as I try to focus on anything except my churning stomach. The air feels too thick, too close, laden with a thousand scents that assault my newly sensitive nose.

Every wolf's natural musk hits differently now—James's forest-and-rain scent, Thomas's leather-and-parchment smell, the lingering traces of everyone's breakfast choices. But worst of all is Nic's scent, pine and leather and pure male, which used to make my magic sing but now triggers a fresh surge of queasiness I barely contain. My power roils under my skin, feeling somehow different than it has my entire life, though I can’t describe how or why.

"The northern perimeter requires additional patrols," Thomas's voice fades in and out as another wave hits. "Given the recent incursions, we need to consider—Luna? Are you alright?"

I force myself to focus, though the room won't stop its lazy spin. The entire Council stares at me from around the table, faces blurring except for Nic's. His concerned frown makes my magic spark fitfully, reaching for him even as my stomach rebels.

"I'm fine," I manage. "Please continue with the briefing."

But the coffee someone brought in smells like a personal attack, its rich aroma suddenly offensive in ways that make no sense. Even the morning sunlight streaming through leadedglass windows feels wrong, too bright, too revealing. My magic coils tighter, wrapped around my midsection like it's guarding a secret I'm not ready to face.

Oh gods.

No.

"Excuse me," I choke out, bolting for the door.

Chairs scrape behind me, voices call my name—Nic's deepest of all, making my magic surge—but I'm already running. Down the hallway where portraits of past Alphas watch my flight with judging eyes, around the corner where pack members leap out of my way, barely making it to the nearest bathroom before emptying my stomach violently.

Cool hands pull my hair back just in time. Ruby's familiar tea-and-books scent surrounds me as she rubs gentle circles on my back, one of the few smells that don't make me want to be sick again. "Easy there, I've got you. Let it all out."

When the heaving finally stops, I slump against the cool tile wall. The bathroom's fluorescent lights feel harsh after the meeting room's natural illumination, making everything feel stark, clinical, and much too real.

"What's wrong with me? My magic's been acting strange for days, getting stronger but different, more protective, and now this..."

---