Page 7 of Fat Sold Mate
As if sensing my attention, Ruby suddenly looks up, her amber eyes scanning the crowd until they lock with mine. For a heartbeat, something like longing flashes across her face—so quickly I might have imagined it—before her expression shutters closed, all warmth vanishing.
She turns away, shoulders stiff, and disappears into the crowd with deliberate speed.
My wolf whines in confusion and frustration.Follow, he urges.
“Not a chance,” I mutter under my breath.
Two months of silence. Two months of her avoiding me like I'm contagious. Two months of wondering what the hell I did wrong after that perfect kiss.
I push the thoughts away and turn in the opposite direction, my mood even darker than before. The lottery weighs heavier on me now, the possibility that I'll be bound to someone—anyone—other than Ruby suddenly intolerable, though I haveno right to feel that way. God knows it’d be worse if itwereher. God knows we’d probably kill each other.
At least then, she’d have to talk to me, a traitorous voice murmurs in the back of my head. I shut it down fast.
By the time I return to the Pack Building, the shadows have lengthened, and my borrowed time has run out. Elder Victoria waits in the antechamber outside the Council Room, her silver hair gleaming in the fading light. At seventy-three, she remains one of our strongest shifters, her wolf as fierce as ever.
“There you are,” she says, her piercing blue eyes taking my measure. “The others are waiting.”
I follow her into the room where the rest of the Council of Elders has assembled. Five faces turn toward me—two men, three women, all well past middle age. The old guard of Silvercreek, keepers of traditions I increasingly struggle to respect.
“James,” Elder Patricia greets me, her steady voice resonating in the wood-paneled room. “We were beginning to wonder if you'd changed your mind.”
“As if I have a choice,” I reply, not bothering to hide my resentment.
Victoria's lips thin in disapproval. “The lottery is an honor, not a burden.”
“Tell that to the people it's paired with incompatible mates,” I counter, dropping into a chair across from them.
“If you can find one, I will,” Victoria responds coolly.
I can think of nothing to say to that. She’s not wrong.
“It's archaic,” I argue, pushing onward anyway, knowing I’m probably putting my foot in my mouth. “We're not living in the dark ages anymore. People should choose their own mates.”
Elder Marcus sighs heavily. “We've had this discussion, James. The lottery continues.”
“Fine,” I concede, knowing when I'm beaten. “Let's get this over with.”
Victoria slides a document across the table—the formal consent that will place my name in tonight's drawing. Though “consent” hardly seems the right word when refusal isn't an option.
“Your participation is particularly important,” she says as I scan the legalese. “You come from a mixed line—shifter father, witch mother—yet you've risen to become one of our strongest enforcers. Your success strengthens the pack.”
The mention of my mother—dead for so many years now—sends a familiar pang through my chest. She'd hate this lottery as much as I do. Maybe more.
“The Cheslem threat remains,” Victoria continues, her tone grave. “They've been quiet since we drove them from our border, but make no mistake—they're regrouping.”
“And this lottery helps how, exactly?” I ask, pen poised above the signature line.
“Unity,” Elder Marcus answers simply. “Strong bonds make a strong pack. A strong pack survives.”
“And the humans?” I press. “The League may be scattered, but their ideas linger.”
Victoria's expression darkens. “All the more reason to strengthen our core. The lottery creates ties that bind us together against outside threats.”
I sign my name with a sharp, angry stroke, then slide the document back. “There. Happy?”
“Your cooperation is appreciated,” Elder Patricia says, her tone softening slightly. “Who knows? Perhaps you'll find yourself as fortunate as your friend Nic.”
The thought sends my wolf into another restless fit of pacing. Nic found Luna. Thomas found Fiona. But the woman my wolf wants—the only one I've thought about for months—won't even look at me anymore.
