Page 23 of Fat Forced Mate

My own wolf paces restlessly as Luna takes her starting position. The trial outfit clings to her curves in ways that make it hard to focus, the black fabric emphasizing the cream of her skin, the copper of her hair. She looks small against the massive course, but her spine is straight, chin lifted in that defiance that's always driven me crazy.

"She won't survive the first obstacle," Melissa mutters from her place among the family section. "Look at her. She can barely reach the first handhold."

My wolf snarls at the threat in her voice, but she's not wrong about the height issue. The initial climbing section was clearly designed for someone with longer limbs, someone who could shift and use wolf strength to compensate for any disadvantage. Luna will have to stretch for every hold.

Thomas raises the ceremonial horn. "The trial begins... now!"

Luna moves before the echo fades, sprinting toward the rock wall with surprising speed. She doesn't hesitate at the base, doesn't waste time studying the impossible height. Instead, she places her hands on the stone and closes her eyes.

"What is she—" Melissa starts.

A ripple of power pulses through the air. The gathered pack falls silent as tiny cracks appear in the rock face, hairline fractures spreading in a deliberate pattern. Within seconds, a network of small but secure handholds has formed where there were none before.

"She's using magic!" someone shouts. "That's cheating!"

"The rules say nothing about magic," Victoria cuts in smoothly. "Only that she must complete the course using her natural abilities. This qualifies."

My heart soars as Luna begins to climb, moving with careful precision. She's creating her own path, using her power to find and enhance natural weaknesses in the stone. It's brilliant and completely unexpected. Pride wars with concern and intrigue as she reaches the halfway point—one slip and even magic couldn't save her from the fall.

She pauses twenty feet up, breathing hard. Sweat darkens her hair, and I can smell the strain in her scent. The magic must be taking a toll, and the unusual physical exertion on a human shopkeeper’s inexperienced body. Just as I'm about to call for a safety line, she presses her forehead to the rock and whispers something I can't quite catch.

The stone beneath her hands takes on a subtle glow. When she resumes climbing, her movements become more fluid, as if the rock itself is helping her ascend. My wolf recognizes old magic at work—the kind that speaks to the bones of the earth, that remembers when all things were wild and alive.

Gods, her magic is so very intuitive. She'd be unstoppably powerful if she’d been properly trained here when we were young.

"Witch tricks," Melissa sneers, but I hear the uncertainty in her voice.

Luna reaches the top in better time than half our wolves manage in shifted form. She allows herself one small smile of triumph before turning to face the rope bridge. Here, at least, magic shouldn't help—the challenge is pure balance and nerve.

The ropes creak ominously as she tests their strength. The gap spans thirty feet, with a hundred-foot drop to the rocks below. Even I feel vertigo looking down, and I've crossed this bridge dozens of times.

Luna studies the setup for a long moment, then does something completely unexpected. Instead of trying to walk across, she sits on the edge and swings her legs over. Before anyone can react, she grabs the main support rope and slides beneath the bridge, using her legs and arms to traverse the gap like some kind of acrobat.

"That's not how—" Thomas starts.

"She's still crossing it," I cut him off. My wolf practically howls with pride at her ingenuity. By going under instead of over, she's actually created a more stable position. The wind can't buffet her as badly, and her weight is distributed more evenly.

Halfway across, one of the support ropes snaps with a sound like a gunshot. Luna swings wildly, dangling by her hands as the bridge twists. The crowd gasps. My wolf surges forward, almost taking control in his desperation to save her.

But Luna doesn't scream. Doesn't panic. Instead, that ripple of power pulses again. The broken rope ends move like serpents, twining back together in a knot stronger than the original weave. She continues across as if nothing happened, though I can smell the fear she's trying to hide.

When she reaches the far side, scattered applause breaks out. Even some of the older pack members look impressed. Luna takes a moment to catch her breath, and I watch her gather her strength for the final challenge—the underwater tunnel.

The lake's surface glitters innocently in the morning sun, betraying nothing of the currents that rage beneath. Most candidates do this part in wolf form, using supernatural strength and enhanced lung capacity to fight the water's pull. Luna will have no such advantages.

She begins with another surprise, kneeling at the water's edge to trail her fingers through the surface. That pulse of power comes again, and the lake's surface begins to glow with a soft blue light. Whatever she's doing makes my wolf's fur stand on end—this is old magic, the kind our ancestors spoke of in whispers.

"If she drowns, it's her own fault," Melissa murmurs. "No one forced her to participate."

It’s a naked lie. What other choice does she have?

My wolf nearly breaks free at the casual threat in her voice.Protect mate,he demands.Save her.

But Luna doesn't need saving. She slips into the water with fluid grace, copper hair darkening to blood-red in the spill. The blue glow surrounds her like an aura as she takes a deep breath and dives.

The next three minutes are torture. I can track her progress by the moving glow beneath the surface, but every second she stays under feels like an eternity. My wolf whines, clawing at my control. Surely, she can't hold her breath much longer. Surely we should stop this. Surely—

Luna explodes from the far side of the lake in a spray of glowing water. She draws in a huge breath as she pulls herself onto the rocks, somehow managing to make even that look graceful. Her trial outfit clings to every curve, leaving little to the imagination. My wolf practically salivates at the sight.

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