Page 15 of Fat Sold Mate
“Shut up, Ruby,” he growls, still not looking away from me.
Petra circles him slowly, like a predator assessing prey—though James is anything but prey. “This is interesting. The third-in-command himself, coming alone to rescue the pack reject? I'm almost touched by the romance of it.”
“This isn't about romance,” James says flatly. “She's under my protection. Pack law.”
“Ah, yes,” Petra purrs. “The lottery. Congratulations on your match.” She glances between us with malicious amusement as it clicks, as she comes to understand what perhaps she already suspected. “Though from the looks of things, your bride wasn't exactly thrilled with the arrangement.”
James says nothing, his jaw clenched tight enough to crack teeth.
“What will you give us for her return?” Petra asks, all pretense of pleasantries abandoned.
“What do you want?” His voice remains steady, controlled, despite the rage I can feel emanating from him.
“No!” I shout, renewed struggles making the chair legs scrape against the wooden floor. “Don't negotiate with them, James. Just go.”
The mountain man backhands me, the blow snapping my head sideways. “Quiet.”
James moves so fast that he's almost a blur, slamming the mountain man against the wall with supernatural strength, his forearm pressed against the man's throat. “Touch her again and I'll tear your head off.”
Damon tenses, ready to attack, but Petra holds up a hand, stopping him. “Enough. We're negotiating, not fighting. Yet.” She smiles thinly. “Release Verne, enforcer. Let's discuss this like civilized wolves.”
For a moment, I think James will ignore her, will crush Verne's windpipe, and damn the consequences. But gradually, he steps back, though his eyes promise violence if provoked again.
“Name your price,” he says to Petra.
She pretends to consider. “Money, of course. Say... fifty thousand?”
James doesn't even blink. “Fine.”
“James, no,” I protest, earning a warning glare from Verne.
“But there's a complication,” Petra continues as if I hadn't spoken. “We can't simply hand her over for cash. That would constitute trafficking under human law, and even we have standards.”
James's expression doesn't change. “What are you suggesting?”
Petra's smile widens, revealing too-sharp teeth. “There is one legal way to transfer a pack member between territories. An ancient law, but still binding. A mating bond.”
The blood drains from my face as I understand what she's proposing. “No.”
“The law recognizes the sale of a mate from one pack to another, provided the bond is initiated immediately,” Petra explains, clearly enjoying my horror. “It's quite traditional, really. A bride price.”
“You're insane,” I spit, my voice shaking with rage and humiliation. “This isn't the dark ages.”
“On the contrary,” Petra says. “Shifter law is quite clear on this point. Isn't that right, enforcer? I'm sure you studied all the ancient codes when you took your position.”
James's face remains impassive, but I see the muscle in his jaw twitching. He knows she's right. The old laws, rarely invoked but never formally revoked, allowed for such transfers in times of treaty negotiation.
“So those are my terms,” Petra continues, circling back to stand behind my chair, her hands coming to rest possessively on my shoulders. “Fifty thousand dollars and the immediate initiation of a mating bond, right here, right now. Or we keep her.”
“You can't be serious,” I breathe, a cold dread settling in my stomach.
“Deadly serious,” Petra whispers near my ear. “And really, you should be thanking me. I'm giving you exactly what your lottery already decided. Just... expediting the process.”
I look to James, silently pleading. His expression is carved from stone, unreadable. The room feels airless suddenly, the walls closing in.
“James,” I say, my voice breaking. “Don't do this. Please.”
His eyes finally meet mine, and the conflict there is clear, even as he masks it from our captors. But he says nothing to me, turning instead to Petra.
