Page 29 of Fat Forced Mate

We return to our research, but the interrupted conversation hangs heavy in the air. Every creak of ancient floorboards makes me jump. Every shadow seems to hold secrets. The storm that's been threatening all morning finally breaks, rain drumming against leaded glass windows.

"Here." Ruby's voice breaks through my brooding. She holds up a dusty tome. "Previous trial records. Maybe we can—"

The library doors burst open. Nic fills the doorway, power rolling off him in waves that make my magic rise instinctively. He's still in his council clothes—dark suit emphasizing those shoulders I definitely haven't been thinking about, Alpha ring glinting on his finger. His wolf eyes flash when they meet mine.

"Luna." My name sounds like sin in his mouth. "A word?"

Ruby gathers her books with suspicious speed. She murmurs, low enough for him not to hear it, “Try not to break any furniture."

She slips out before I can protest, leaving me alone with the one person I've been avoiding all week. Nic stalks closer, all predator grace, and my traitor magic reaches for him like a flower-seeking sun.

"You've been avoiding me." It's not a question.

"I've been preparing for the trial." I resist the urge to back away as he approaches. "Some of us can't rely on pure blood and natural talent."

His lips quirk. "I didn’t know non-wolves were so quick to forget significant events. You have a short memory.”

Heat floods my cheeks. "That was a mistake."

"Was it?" Another step closer. My magic crackles in response, making nearby papers flutter. "Because I remember you being very... enthusiastic about that mistake."

"Stop." But my voice shakes as he invades my space, backing me against the nearest bookshelf. His scent surrounds me—pine and leather and pure male. "We can't do this."

"Do what?" His hands bracket my head, caging me in. “I’m not doing anything.”

"Nic..." Warning or plea, I'm not sure.

Thunder crashes outside, matching the wild surge of my magic. Books tremble on their shelves. The air grows thick with power and possibility and the electric tension that always sparks between us.

His wolf eyes burn as they track down to my lips. The glow in them is intoxicating.

A sudden howl splits the air—three short bursts, the signal for an immediate threat. Nic jerks back like he's been burned. I stay pressed against the bookshelf, heart racing, magic crackling wildly enough to make the lights flicker.

"Border," he growls. The Alpha mask slams back into place, but his wolf still shows in his eyes. "We're not finished here."

He stalks out before I can respond, leaving me breathing hard in the suddenly cold library. My magic whines at his departure, still reaching for something just out of reach. Still sensing danger, I can't quite name.

I turn back to the shelves, trying to focus on trial preparation. But my eyes keep catching on that interrupted conversation. The Cheslem Pack. Fifteen years ago. The same patterns...

"Luna?" Ruby's voice makes me jump. "Everyone's gathering in the great hall. Something about suspicious activity at the borders."

I shove the paper into my pocket, heart pounding. "Coming."

But as I follow her out, my magic surges with certainty—something is very wrong in Silvercreek.

Chapter 12 - Dominic

The dawn border patrol reports spread across my desk like a map of growing dread. Each page documents another sighting, another scent marker, another sign that we're being watched. Thomas stands at the window, his usual composure fractured by exhaustion and worry.

"Three more incursions last night," he says, tracking the storm clouds gathering on the horizon. "They're getting bolder. Testing our response times."

I study the latest report, my wolf bristling at the details. Claw marks on trees just inside our territory. Kills left deliberately where our patrols would find them—just small animals for now, but we all know it’ll escalate. Signs of ritual magic that makes my skin crawl just reading about it.

"Show me the pattern again."

Thomas pulls out the territorial map we've been marking all week. Red dots indicate confirmed sightings, blue for suspected activity. The pattern is impossible to ignore now—a slow spiral tightening around Silvercreek like a noose.

"They're hunting something," I say, tracing the progression. "Or someone."

---