Page 8 of Fat Sold Mate
“Is there anything else?” I ask, already rising from my chair.
Victoria shakes her head. “Be at the Hollow. Wear something appropriate.”
I leave without another word, the weight of what's coming settling around my shoulders like a heavy cloak. In less than four hours, my future will be decided by a random draw, a ritual as old as Silvercreek itself.
My wolf growls his discontent, pressing against my control until my eyes flash amber in the dimly lit hallway. I force him down with practiced effort, my knuckles white as I clench my fists.
Outside, the setting sun paints Silvercreek in shades of gold and crimson, beautiful despite the tension hanging in the air. Pack members hurry past on their way home to prepare for tonight's ceremony, excitement evident in their eager expressions and animated conversations.
I take the long way back to my cabin, cutting through the woods that border our territory. Here, away from prying eyes, I finally let my wolf loose enough to run—I can’t afford to stay outhere for long, but I run far enough to burn off the restless energy threatening to consume me.
As dusk settles over Silvercreek, I shower and dress in the formal clothes laid out on my bed—dark pants, crisp white shirt, the slate-gray jacket that marks me as part of the Alpha's inner circle. The man in the mirror appears composed and confident, hiding the turmoil beneath.
A text from Nic lights up my phone:Perimeter secure. All quiet so far.
I respond with a thumbs-up emoji, lacking the energy for more. My thoughts drift to Ruby again. In a heady daydream, more like a nightmare, I imagine her hightailing it away from Silvercreek right now, all to get away from me. I wonder if she'll be able to stand to watch as my future is decided, as indifferent as she's been these past two months.
And I wonder, as I have every day since she walked away, what I did to lose her before I ever truly had her.
My wolf has no such doubts.Find her, he insists as I lock my cabin door and head toward town.Claim her.
“It doesn't work that way,” I mutter, but his certainty lingers.
As the lights of the town square come into view, I straighten my shoulders and set my face in the neutral mask expected of me. Whatever happens tonight, I'll face it with the strength that's earned me my place in this pack.
Even if every instinct I possess is screaming that it's wrong.
Chapter 3 - Ruby
The Hollow pulses with anticipation, strings of fairy lights casting everything in a soft golden glow that does nothing to ease the knot in my stomach. I tug at the hem of my burgundy dress, the only formal thing I own, trying to ignore the stares burning into my back. All around me, the other eligible women chat excitedly, their voices a symphony of nervous laughter and whispered speculation.
This is the third time I've stood in this very circle, this group of women, watching fate's cruel game play out. First for Nic's lottery, then Thomas's. Each time, I prayed my name wouldn't be called. Each time, luck was on my side.
But luck, like all fickle things, eventually runs out. That fact terrifies me more than anything.
“You look like you're waiting for execution,” Emily Porter, a girl I knew in school, whispers beside me, her blonde perfection making me feel even more out of place. “It's just a ceremony.”
I don't bother responding. Emily, with her pure shifter bloodline and flawless control of her wolf, could never understand what it's like to be the pack's living reminder of what happens when magic and shifter blood mix unsuccessfully. At least my eternal shame used to be shared with Luna, who was in the same boat. Now, she’s ascended, and I’m still here, in the same dirt I grew up in.
From the raised platform where the Alpha's inner circle and the Elders stand, Luna catches my eye. She gives me an encouraging smile, radiant in emerald green beside Nic, whose hand rests possessively on the small of her back. Beside them,Fiona leans into Thomas, both watching the proceedings with the satisfaction of those safely paired.
I envy them. Not their mates—though any woman would be lucky to have men like Nic or Thomas—but their certainty. The knowledge that they belong.
Elder Victoria steps forward, her silver hair gleaming in the lantern light, commanding silence with nothing more than her presence.
“Silvercreek has endured,” she begins, her voice carrying across the hushed gathering. “Through attacks and threats, through changing times and outside pressures, we have remained strong because of our traditions—because of our bonds.”
My eyes drift involuntarily to James, standing rigid beside the other elders. The formal gray jacket stretches across his broad shoulders; his dark hair is swept back from a face that haunts my dreams despite my best efforts. He looks like everything I've ever wanted and can never have.
“Tonight,” Victoria continues, “we strengthen those bonds once again through the sacred lottery, a tradition that has served our pack for generations.”
Sacred. As if random chance deserves reverence. I swallow the bitter laugh threatening to escape.
“James Morgan,” Victoria calls, “step forward.”
He moves with the fluid grace of a born shifter, the confidence of a man secure in his place within the pack hierarchy. Third in command. The Alpha's head of security and best friend since childhood. Nothing like the uncertain, vulnerable man who kissed me in the soft lamplight of my bookshop.
“James has served Silvercreek with distinction,” Victoria announces to the crowd. “His strength, loyalty, and courage make him a valuable mate for any woman of our pack.”
