Page 75 of Fat Sold Mate
The irony doesn't escape either of us. The very practice that forced us together—that we both initially resisted so strongly—has now become something we both support.
Elder Victoria's funeral last month marked the turning point. As we laid her to rest with full pack honors, something shifted in Silvercreek's collective consciousness. Her sacrifice represented the best of what our community could be—protective, selfless, focused on future generations rather than past grievances. Now, the lottery continues in her honour, the tradition she fought so hard to enact.
Matthias and the few Cheslem leaders who had knowingly embraced corruption now sit in human prison cells, their crimes translated into terms law enforcement couldunderstand and prosecute. Kidnapping, assault, conspiracy—pale reflections of their true offenses, but sufficient to keep them contained and separated from both human and shifter societies.
“I stopped by the shop earlier,” I say, changing the subject to lighter matters. “Luna's got the magical texts section looking impressive.”
Ruby smiles, pride evident in her expression. My sister has taken to co-managing the bookshop's newly expanded offerings, her pregnancy limiting her more physical activities but doing nothing to diminish her magical abilities. If anything, the baby—due any day now—seems to have enhanced her connection to natural energies.
“She's nesting,” Ruby says with affection. “Just not in her own home. I think she's there more than I am these days.”
“She's happy for us,” I reply, pressing a kiss to Ruby's temple. “We all are.”
From inside the cottage comes a disgruntled meow, followed by the appearance of an enormous orange tabby in the doorway. Maggie—finally properly named after weeks of being called “the cat”—regards us with typical feline judgment before sauntering onto the porch and settling possessively at Ruby's feet.
“Still not your biggest fan,” I mutter to the cat, who blinks at me with smug indifference.
Ruby laughs, the sound still capable of sending warmth cascading through me even after months of hearing it daily. “She's coming around. I caught her sleeping on your shirt yesterday.”
“Covering it in orange fur, no doubt.”
“Of course. It's how she shows love.”
The easy domesticity of the moment strikes me suddenly—how quickly this has become our normal, our reality, after so many weeks of danger and uncertainty. The bond between us hums with contentment, with a depth of connection that grows rather than diminishes with each passing day.
Reaching into my pocket, I withdraw the small package I've been carrying for days, waiting for the right moment. “I have something for you.”
Ruby's eyes widen with curiosity as she sets her mug aside, accepting the cloth-wrapped bundle with careful hands. “What's this?”
“Traditional courting gift,” I explain, suddenly nervous despite everything we've already shared. “Typically given before mating, but we did things a bit backwards.”
Her fingers unwrap the cloth to reveal a silver pendant, its surface etched with protection symbols that she's been teaching me to craft. The central design—a wolf and moon intertwined with flowing script—represents our unique bond, neither fully shifter nor witch but something new and powerful in its hybridity.
“James,” she breathes, tears gathering in her amber eyes. “It's beautiful.”
“I had help,” I admit, watching as she traces the symbols with reverent fingers. “Luna guided the magical aspects, but I did the metalwork.”
Ruby lifts her gaze to mine, emotion flowing freely through our bond—love and gratitude and something deeper, something that makes my breath catch with its intensity.
“I have something for you, too,” she says softly. “Though it's not something I can wrap.”
My head tilts questioningly, though something in her tone, in the pulse of our bond, sends anticipation coursing through me before she even speaks.
“I'm pregnant,” she whispers, voice barely audible above the gentle creaking of the porch swing. “Just a few weeks along, but... we're going to have a baby.”
The world stops, narrows to this single perfect moment—Ruby's eyes meeting mine, her hand finding mine and guiding it to rest against her still-flat stomach. Through our bond flows a kaleidoscope of emotion too complex for words, too beautiful for anything but silent wonder.
“A baby,” I finally manage, voice rough with emotion. “Our baby.”
Ruby nods, tears spilling freely now. “I wasn't sure it was possible. With me being unable to shift, with everything we've been through... But Dr. Foster confirmed it yesterday.”
I gather her close, overwhelmed by fierce joy, by protective love so strong it nearly steals my breath.
“Perfect,” I murmur against her hair. “Absolutely perfect.”
I lean forward, capturing her lips with mine, a gentle kiss that quickly transforms into something deeper, more urgent. The bond between us pulses with new intensity, heightened by the knowledge of the life growing inside her.
“I love you,” I breathe against her mouth. “So much.”
