Page 31 of Fat Sold Mate
Ruby stands her ground, the jagged rock held like a weapon. As the corrupted wolf lunges, she sidesteps with surprising agility, bringing the rock down hard on its skull. The impact doesn't kill it but stuns it long enough for her to retreat, putting distance between herself and the dazed creature.
Pride surges through me at her resourcefulness, momentarily distracting me from my own fight. The corrupted wolf seizes the opportunity, its teeth finding purchase in my shoulder. Pain lances through me, hot and immediate. Through the bond, I feel Ruby's answering gasp as the sensation echoes between us.
Rage gives me renewed strength. I twist violently, breaking the creature's hold, then counterattack with savage precision. My jaws close around its throat, tearing through corrupted flesh until the creature goes limp beneath me.
One down.
I turn to find Ruby backing toward the cliff edge, the second scout circling her with predatory patience. Blood trickles from a cut on her forearm where the creature's claws must havecaught her. The sight of her injury triggers something primal in my wolf, a protective fury that transcends rational thought.
I launch myself at the second scout, catching it off guard. We collide with bone-crushing force, rolling dangerously close to the edge of the ridge. Ruby shouts a warning I can't comprehend in wolf form, but I sense her intention through the bond.
The corrupted wolf snaps at my exposed belly, missing by inches. I use its momentum against it, twisting to force it closer to the precipice. One final lunge and we're both teetering on the edge, locked together in a deadly embrace.
“James!” Ruby's voice cuts through the night as we topple over.
The fall is brief but violent, both of us crashing through underbrush and bouncing off rock. Pain explodes across my body as we land on a ledge twenty feet below. The corrupted wolf recovers first, staggering to its feet with unnatural resilience.
Before it can attack again, Ruby appears at the edge above, her eyes scanning the terrain with remarkable speed. She disappears for a split second, then reappears holding a dead branch. With precise timing, she wedges it between two rocks and leverages her weight against it, sending a single large boulder tumbling down. Her aim is impeccable—the result of a lifetime navigating these forests—and the heavy rock crashes directly into the corrupted wolf's hindquarters, pinning it momentarily.
It's all the opening I need. I lunge forward, teeth finding its spine, crushing with all my strength until something gives with a sickening crack. The creature thrashes once, then goes still.
Silence descends, broken only by our ragged breathing. I shift back to human form, the transformation slower and more painful due to my injuries. Ruby makes her way down to the ledge with nimble movements that speak of years spent exploring the wilderness alone, rushing to my side as I complete the change.
“Are you okay?” she asks, hands hovering over my bloodied shoulder, uncertainty in her eyes.
“I'll heal,” I manage, though the pain is substantial. “You're bleeding.”
She glances at her arm as if just remembering her own injury. “It's nothing. Just a scratch.”
Our eyes meet in the moonlight, adrenaline still coursing through both our systems. The bond thrums between us, amplified by the danger we've just faced together, by the primal satisfaction of survival. My wolf is still too close to the surface, urging me to pull her closer, to confirm with touch that she's safe, whole, mine.
Ruby seems to sense the direction of my thoughts, her pupils dilating slightly as she takes a half-step back. “We should move,” she says, her voice rougher than usual. “There could be more.”
I nod, forcing my wolf's instincts down with practiced discipline. “You fought well.”
Something flickers across her face—surprise, perhaps, at the simple compliment. “So did you.”
It's the closest thing to peace we've managed since this nightmare began.
Dawn finds us miles from the ridge, having traveled through the night despite our injuries. We stumble upon anabandoned hunting cabin just as the first birds begin their morning chorus—a small, dilapidated structure that nonetheless offers four walls and a roof.
“It'll do,” Ruby says, exhaustion evident in every line of her body.
The cabin is basic—a single room with a rusted woodstove, a rough-hewn table, and a narrow cot pushed against the far wall. Dust covers every surface, but the roof appears intact, and the door has a functioning lock. After the exposed ridge, it feels like a fortress.
“I'll check the perimeter,” I say, needing a moment to compose myself. The night of fighting and fleeing has left my wolf too close to the surface, especially with the bond pulsing between us, heightened by shared danger and proximity.
When I return, Ruby has cleared the dust from the table and is sorting through our meager supplies. The morning light filters through grimy windows, catching in her dark hair and illuminating the curve of her neck as she bends over the task. My wolf stirs, a low rumble of appreciation that I have to forcibly silence.
“We should be safe for a few hours,” I say, closing the door behind me. “No signs of pursuit.”
Ruby nods, not looking up. “Good. We both need rest.”
The mention of rest brings the issue of sleeping arrangements into sharp focus. One cot. Two people. The bond between us is already humming with tension that isn't entirely from danger or fear.
“You take the cot,” I say, moving to the opposite wall where I can spread the emergency blanket on the floor. “I'll keep watch.”
“You're injured worse than I am,” Ruby counters, finally meeting my gaze. “You need proper rest to heal.”
