Page 44 of Fat Forced Mate

She nods, adjusting her grip on the books. "Among other things."

The silence stretches between us, heavy with unspoken words. A thousand questions crowd my mind—about her changed scent, about what happened at Shadow Creek, about why she seems both more guarded and more powerful since her return.

Instead, I step aside to let her pass. "Don't stay up too late."

Something flashes in her eyes—annoyance, perhaps, or disappointment. "Careful, Alpha. That almost sounded like concern."

Before I can respond, she continues down the hall, leaving me with the lingering scent of lavender, sage, and that maddening something else.

***

"The eastern perimeter shows increased activity," James reports days later, pointing to marks on the map spread across my desk. "Similar to what we saw before the raid, but more dispersed. Tracks, scents. They’re lingering as close as they can to our border without triggering our patrolling wolves to pursue.”

I nod, studying the pattern. "They're testing for weaknesses."

"Or trying to draw our attention while they plan something else." He rubs the back of his neck, a habit he's had since childhood. "We need more eyes out there."

"Agreed. Rotate in some of the recently graduated trainees. Pair them with experienced fighters."

James makes a note, then hesitates. "Have you noticed anything... different about Luna lately?"

My head snaps up, pulse quickening. "Different, how?"

He shrugs, trying for casual and failing. "Her magic seems stronger. More volatile. And she's been tired, distracted."

"The trials are demanding," I say carefully, unwilling to admit I've noticed the same changes. "It's probably stress."

"Probably," he agrees, but doesn't sound convinced.

Neither am I, if I'm honest. But acknowledging the changes in Luna means confronting questions I'm not ready to answer. Questions about why my wolf becomes more insistent each day, pacing restlessly beneath my skin, urging me to claim what it sees as ours.

Hours later, the Council chamber fills with pack leadership for the weekly meeting—Elders, security heads, community leaders all taking their places around the large oak table. Luna sits between a scowling Melissa and Ruby (who I’m certain snuck in, but I’m unwilling to kick out), looking composed despite the sidelong glances thrown her way. Her status remains ambiguous—not yet officially pack leadership, but required to attend as the chosen mate candidate.

"Border reports first," I begin, nodding to James, who summarizes the increased activity we've been tracking.

The meeting progresses efficiently through routine matters—supply inventories, training schedules, preparationsfor the upcoming full moon. It's only when Victoria raises the topic of magical practices within pack territory that the atmosphere shifts.

"In light of recent events," Victoria says, her voice carrying the weight of her years, "I believe we should review the Ancient Laws regarding magical practices."

A murmur runs through the room.

Victoria unfurls a scroll of yellowed parchment. "Law 27 states: 'The practice of willful magic is forbidden within the heart of pack territory, save by those of pure blood who are granted specific dispensation by the Alpha and Council.'"

I watch Luna's expression carefully, noting how her shoulders tense slightly.

"This law," Victoria continues, "was established after the Great Divide, when mistrust between shifters and witches ran high. Its purpose was to prevent corruption and ensure pack safety."

Elder Roberts nods approvingly. "Wise precautions that have served us well for generations."

"Perhaps," Victoria concedes, "but times change, and so must we. I propose we consider amending this restriction to allow controlled magical practice within our borders, particularly for defensive purposes."

The chamber erupts in overlapping voices, opinions flying like arrows. I raise a hand for silence, which gradually falls.

"This is a significant departure from tradition," I observe neutrally. "We should consider all implications carefully."

"If I may," Luna's voice cuts through the tension, clear and steady. All heads turn toward her, surprise evident on manyfaces. It's unusual for someone in her position to speak without being directly addressed.

I hesitate, then nod. "Proceed."

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