Page 10 of Fat Arranged Mate
"As our Alpha and his mate bear witness, as our ancestors watch from beyond, I call upon the spirits of Silvercreek to guide my hand to the perfect match for Dylan Zaleska." Her voice rises, taking on the ritual cadence that sends a shiver down my spine despite my skepticism.
She passes the bowl to Luna, who stirs the contents with elegant fingers before returning it. Nic places his hand briefly atop the bowl, a symbolic blessing. Then Elder Amelia reaches inside, fingers hovering for a dramatic moment before selecting a folded slip of paper.
The Hollow falls absolutely silent. Even the forest seems to hold its breath.
Elder Amelia unfolds the paper slowly, her expression revealing nothing as she reads the name. Then her eyes lift, finding me unerringly in the circle of women.
"Sera Daley."
For one suspended moment, I'm certain I've misheard. The torches blur, sound fading to a distant buzz. Then reality crashes back as the pack erupts in cheers and excited whispers. Women beside me turn with expressions ranging from relief to sympathy to envy.
My eyes snap to the platform, seeking Dylan's reaction. His face has gone completely blank, a mask of control that fails to hide the shock in his eyes. Our gazes lock across the Hollow, and in that brief connection, I see my own horror perfectly mirrored.
This can't be happening.
"Sera Daley, please step forward," Elder Amelia's voice cuts through my paralysis.
My body moves without conscious direction, carrying me through the circle of women toward the platform. The ground beneath my feet feels unsteady, the cheers of the pack distant and surreal. This is a nightmare. It has to be.
I ascend the wooden steps, hyperaware of every eye watching, every whisper following. Dylan moves forward mechanically to meet me at the center of the platform. Up close, I can see the muscle twitching in his jaw, the carefully controlled breathing. He's as trapped as I am.
"The lottery has decided," Elder Amelia announces, placing one hand on my shoulder and the other on Dylan's. Her grip is surprisingly firm, almost warning. "Dylan Zaleska and Sera Daley, matched by tradition, blessed by the pack."
***
Ruby rubs my back gently. "Breathe, Sera. Just breathe."
But I can’t breathe. How can she possibly expect me to breathe?
“What the fuck,” I mutter into my knees, crouching in the darkness of the treeline where Ruby has spirited me away from the party for a moment, having noticed my impending panic attack. “What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck—”
“It’s going to be okay.” She smoothes my hair off my sweaty face. “Sera, it’s all going to be fine.”
"Dylan Zaleska? The man who thinks I'm a security risk? Who'd probably prefer mating a cactus?" My laugh sounds hysterical even to my own ears. "This is a cosmic joke."
"The lottery isn't random," Ruby says quietly. "Not entirely. No one knows how. But… you’re compatible, Sera, I’d bet on it. You’re going to be fine.”
"Compatible?" I stare at her incredulously. "We can't be in the same room without arguing! He thinks I'm a naive, reckless pacifist, and I think he's a paranoid warmonger with control issues."
"And yet..." Ruby's eyes hold something knowing that makes me want to scream.
"Don't. Whatever you're thinking, just don't." I press my palms against my temples. "There has to be a way out of this. Can't he refuse? Can't I?"
Ruby's expression softens with sympathy. "Not without serious consequences. Refusing the lottery is seen as rejecting the pack itself. For a newcomer like you, especially from Cheslem..."
She doesn't finish, but she doesn't need to. Rejection would confirm every suspicion, every whisper about my loyalty. I'd be banished as a rogue at best, arrested at worst. And Dylan? The pack's upstanding head of security, rejecting tradition, would undermine everything he stands for.
We're both trapped.
"I need to talk to Luna," I say suddenly, spotting the Alpha's mate across the clearing. "She'll understand. She can help."
Before Ruby can respond, I'm moving, slipping through the crowd toward where Luna stands conversing with Elder Amelia. Their discussion appears intense, heads bent close together, but they break apart as I approach.
"Sera," Luna greets me warmly, though her eyes hold concern. "How are you feeling?"
"Like I might throw up," I admit honestly. "Can we talk? Privately?"
Luna nods, exchanging a look with Elder Amelia that I can't interpret. The older woman inclines her head slightly before moving away to join other elders.
