Page 3 of Fat Sold Mate
Ruby looks stunned, her lips slightly swollen, a flush spreading across her cheeks. I imagine I look equally thunderstruck.
“That was...” she begins.
“Unexpected,” I finish, though it's a lie. Some part of me has been wanting this since that first day in the medical bay, maybe even before.
“Was it?” Her voice is barely above a whisper.
I shake my head slowly. “No. Not really.”
We stare at each other, balanced on the edge of something new and terrifying and exhilarating. I reach for her hand across the table, threading our fingers together. Her skin is soft against mine, her pulse racing as fast as my own.
“I should go,” I say reluctantly, though everything in me rebels against the idea. “Early patrol tomorrow.”
Ruby nods, but neither of us moves to break the contact of our joined hands.
“Tomorrow?” I ask, the single word containing a universe of questions.
Her smile unfurls slowly, like a flower opening to the sun. “Tomorrow,” she agrees.
As I walk home through the quiet streets of Silvercreek, my lips still tingling from her kiss, I can't suppress the smile that seems permanently etched on my face. For the first time since the attack, the future feels like something to look forward to rather than something to dread.
I have no way of knowing that by this time tomorrow, everything will have fallen apart.
Chapter 1 - Ruby
Two Months Later
The bookshop is silent save for the whisper of pages as I reshelve a stack of forgotten romances. Mystic Page should have closed an hour ago, but I've invented tasks to keep myself busy—anything to avoid going home to an empty apartment and thoughts of tomorrow's lottery ceremony. James's lottery ceremony.
Dust motes dance in the last rays of the sunset, filtering through the windows and catching in the honey-colored light. I run my fingers along the spines of leather-bound grimoires in the small occult section tucked in the back corner. Most are benign—kitchen witchery cookbooks and basic crystal guides for curious humans—but a few hold real knowledge, preserved for the handful of witch-born in Silvercreek who still practice.
Not that I'm among them. Not really.
The thought sends a familiar pang of inadequacy through me. I push it away and focus on straightening a display of local history books. The bell above the door jingles, and I look up, ready to inform whoever it is that we're closed—but the words die on my lips when I see Luna and Fiona.
“We brought reinforcements,” Luna announces, holding up a bottle of red wine. Her curly, red hair is pulled into an elegant twist; her face glows with vitality, making my chest ache with both happiness and envy. Two months as the Alpha's mate has transformed her from the quiet, cautious girl I grew up with into someone who radiates confidence. “You'll need this for courage before my brother's lottery tomorrow.”
Beside her, Fiona looks equally radiant, pale skin luminous against her emerald blouse. Two months since she and Thomas ironed things out, and I’ve never seen her happier.
“I'm busy,” I say, though we all know it's a lie.
Luna ignores me, moving toward the small sitting area near the window where I keep mismatched armchairs for customers. “Perfect timing—you're done for the day. Now you can have wine with us and stop pretending tomorrow isn't happening.”
I grimace, continuing to arrange books that don't need arranging. “I'm not pretending anything. I'm working.”
“Ruby.” Fiona's voice is gentle but firm. “The ceremony is mandatory. You can't hide in here forever.”
“Watch me,” I mutter, but there's no real fight in it.
Luna uncorks the wine, the rich scent of blackberries filling the air as she pours three glasses.
“You have to come. Not just because it's mandatory, but because...” She hesitates, exchanging a glance with Fiona. “Because the pack needs to see us united after everything that happened with the League attack. And, hey, you got drunk at the last two lotteries. You can get drunk at this one, too. Nothing like free booze.”
A scratching at the cat flap installed in the back door interrupts whatever I might have said. Moments later, a massive orange tabby saunters in, tail high like royalty, expecting tribute.
“Hello, your majesty,” I say dryly as Maggie winds between my ankles once before moving to investigate the newcomers. “You're late for your dinner.”
“That cat gets bigger every time I see her,” Fiona remarks as Maggie headbutts her hand, demanding pets.
