Page 38 of Fat Sold Mate
“I doubt it,” I say, the familiar weight of inadequacy settling on my shoulders. “I can barely manage the simplest protection spells. Everything I try fails.”
“That's not entirely true,” James interjects unexpectedly. “You've managed small wards before. I've seen them around your bookshop.”
I look up in surprise, meeting his gaze directly for the first time since waking. “Those were Luna's work, not mine.”
He ducks his head again, seeming embarrassedforme. That only makes me feel worse.
Before I can respond—not that I can think of much to say to that—Sera speaks again.
“My grandmother believed that witch-born abilities could be amplified through connection,” she says. “Like, mating bonds and stuff. If you two are bonded...” She glances between us, clearly sensing the tension but misunderstanding its source.
“It's complicated,” I say, closing the grimoire with perhaps more force than necessary. “And we should be moving. We've stayed in one place too long already.”
James nods, rising to his feet in one fluid motion that reminds me of his wolf's grace. “Ruby's right. We need to keep moving, find somewhere more defensible.”
“I know a place,” Sera offers, standing more carefully, mindful of her healing injuries. “A cabin my grandmother used sometimes, about ten miles north. It's warded—not much, but enough to hide us while we rest and plan.”
“That's Cheslem territory,” James points out, skepticism evident in his tone.
“Yes,” Sera agrees, “But it’s close to the outskirts. It’s rarely patrolled. We’ll be safe there.”
I begin gathering our few possessions, considering the suggestion.
“It makes a certain strategic sense,” I admit reluctantly. “Hiding where they least expect us.”
“Or walking straight into a trap,” James counters, frustration bleeding into his voice.
“If I wanted to trap you, I wouldn't have spent the night teaching you how to avoid Cheslem scouts,” Sera points out reasonably.
The logic is sound, but I understand James's caution. Trust doesn't come easily to either of us, especially now, with everything at stake.
“We need to go somewhere,” I say, shouldering my pack. “And her grandmother's research might be our only chance of helping Silvercreek.”
James's jaw tightens, a muscle pulsing beneath the skin in a way that shouldn't be as distracting as it is.
“Fine,” he concedes finally. “But at the first sign of trouble, we're out.”
Sera helps me gather the herbs she's been showing James, explaining which combinations work best for different purposes. Her knowledge is impressive for someone so young, a testament to her grandmother's teaching and her own quick mind.
“Your mother taught you spells?” she asks as we work. “Before she died, I mean.”
I nod, the memories bittersweet. “Basic ones. Wards against negative energy, concealment spells, and purification rituals. Nothing complex. I’ve never even cast one correctly, though.”
“I still wonder sometimes if I could learn someday,” Sera says, excitement coloring her voice. “You know, if things work out somehow. I’ve got a bit of magic, but it wasn’t permitted to teach the young ones how to cast. Maybe you could teach me something sometime.”
I don't share her optimism, too familiar with my own limitations, but I don't discourage her. Hope is too precious a commodity these days to squander unnecessarily.
Within an hour, we're ready to move. James takes point, his shifter senses most acute for detecting potential threats. I follow, with Sera between us, her injuries still limiting her speed, but her determination is evident in every step.
The day grows warmer as we trek through dense forest, following game trails when possible to avoid leaving obvious tracks. James moves with the silent efficiency of a predator, occasionally raising a hand to halt us while he investigates some sound or scent. The bond between us transmits flashes of his awareness—sharp, focused, alert to every rustle and shadow.
Sera watches our wordless communication with interest.
“The bond is strong between you,” she observes during a brief rest, as we sit. “Even despite… You know. How things happened.”
Heat rises to my cheeks unbidden. “It was forced,” I say, more sharply than intended. “There's nothing natural about it.”
Sera has the decency to look cowed at that. “Yeah. Sorry. I just—you know. It’s what you’re meant to say, I guess.”
