Page 72 of Fat Sold Mate
She gives a short, humorless laugh. “Us Cheslem wolves are made of stronger stuff—I guess the downside of that is Petrais too, huh?” Her expression sobers as she examines my injury. “This is bad, James.”
“Ruby,” I insist, trying again to rise. “Help her.”
Sera nods, understanding immediately. “Hold on.”
She calls two of her freed packmates over, giving them quick instructions to protect me. Then she's gone, moving toward where Ruby has retrieved the fallen grimoire and journal, determination clear in every line of her body.
Through the bond, I feel Ruby's surge of hope at seeing Sera alive, feel her renewed focus as they confer quickly over the ritual components. The pain in my side becomes secondary, distant, as I pour what strength remains into our connection, into the magic Ruby is once again preparing.
My vision blurs, consciousness flickering as blood loss takes its toll. I fight to stay awake, to maintain the bond, to keep channeling energy into Ruby's efforts. The sounds of battle seem to recede, underwater and far away, but our connection remains vivid, immediate.
Through Ruby's eyes, I see Matthias advancing again, his massive form silhouetted against the moonlight. Through her hands, I feel the power building as she and Sera work together, combining their knowledge, their determination.
“The bond,” I hear Sera instruct, her voice carried to me through Ruby's ears. “Use it fully. Don't hold back.”
And Ruby doesn't. She reaches through our connection with absolute trust, drawing on everything I am, everything we've become to each other. The pain of my wound fades beneath the rush of power flowing between us, beneath the intimacy of a sharing so complete it blurs the boundaries between us.
I force myself to my feet, ignoring the protests of my damaged body, of the Cheslem wolves assigned to protect me. Each step toward Ruby is agony, but the pull of our bond is stronger than pain, than fear, than rational thought.
As I reach her side, as our hands connect, the counter-ritual surges with new power. Amber light explodes outward from the altar stone, enveloping us in a cocoon of pure energy that repels Matthias's next attack. Together, we stand at the center of the storm, the completed bond between us humming with possibilities neither of us could have imagined when it was first forced upon us.
Matthias roars in fury, corruption swirling around him like a living shadow as he prepares another assault. Petra appears at his side, her twisted form equally terrifying as they coordinate their attack.
“Now!” Sera shouts, completing the final component of the ritual.
Power surges through the bond, through Ruby, through me, focused by her will and the ancient words of the incantation. It's too much—more than either of us can contain alone, more than even our combined strength should be able to channel. But in this moment, we are more than the sum of our parts. More than reluctant mates or damaged survivors. We are a circuit completed, a connection realized in its fullest potential.
From the corner of my eye, I see movement by the stone pillars. Elder Victoria, her bonds weakened by the counter-ritual's energy, breaks free with a final surge of strength. Instead of fleeing, she launches herself at Petra with the desperate courage of someone with nothing left to lose.
The distraction is brief but critical. Petra turns to meet this unexpected threat, her corrupted claws slashing acrossVictoria's chest in a blow that will prove fatal. But in that moment of diverted attention, Ruby completes the incantation, releasing the full power of the counter-ritual directly at Matthias.
Light engulfs him, amber energy seeking out the corruption that has consumed him so completely. He screams—a sound of rage and disbelief and agonized resistance. Black corruption bubbles from his skin like tar boiling in the sun, each drop sizzling into nothing as it comes into contact with the purifying magic.
The ritual drains everything from us, leaving me swaying on my feet, darkness crowding the edges of my vision. Ruby's hand in mine is the only anchor keeping me conscious, our bond the only thing preventing both of us from collapsing as the magic tears through us.
Elder Victoria lies motionless at Petra's feet, her sacrifice buying us the moment we needed. As consciousness finally slips away, my last sight is of Matthias falling to his knees, corruption being forcibly expelled from his body in clouds of noxious black smoke.
My last thought isn't of victory or defeat, but of Ruby—of her hand in mine, of her trust and courage, of the bond between us that has become the most real thing in my world.
Of how, if these are my final moments, I regret nothing except the words I never found the courage to say.
Chapter 29 - Ruby
The first thing I notice is the absence of pain. After weeks of fear, of running, of channeling more magic than my body was ever meant to hold, the gentle floating sensation is so unfamiliar it almost frightens me. My eyes remain closed, consciousness returning in slow waves that bring sensory awareness with them—clean sheets beneath my fingers, the antiseptic smell of Silvercreek's medical building, soft breathing beside me that isn't my own.
I know that breathing. Know the scent that accompanies it, forest and leather, and something uniquely his. The bond between us pulses gently, muted by exhaustion but undeniably present. Alive. We're both alive.
When I finally open my eyes, sunlight streams through half-drawn curtains, casting the small private room in warm afternoon light. My body feels impossibly heavy, limbs weighted with the aftermath of magical depletion. But the heaviness holds no fear, only the peaceful certainty that I can rest now. That it's over.
James sleeps in a chair pulled close to my bed, his large frame awkwardly folded into the too-small space. His head rests near my hand, dark hair tousled, face relaxed in sleep despite the bandages visible beneath his t-shirt. Even wounded, even exhausted, he positioned himself to protect me—his body between me and the door, one hand resting on the edge of my bed as if to maintain contact even in sleep.
I study him unobserved, this man who has become essential to me in ways I'm only beginning to understand. The sharp line of his jaw softened slightly in sleep. The long lashesthat rest against his cheeks. The strength in his shoulders, the gentleness in his hands that I've come to know so intimately.
My fingers move of their own accord, brushing lightly against his forearm. Through our bond, I feel the moment consciousness returns to him—a gradual brightening, like dawn breaking over the horizon.
His eyes open, amber depths immediately finding mine with laser focus. For a heartbeat, neither of us moves or speaks, the reality of survival washing over us in shared wonder.
“Ruby,” he breathes, my name emerging as something between a prayer and a confession.
