Page 13 of Fat Betrayed Mate
Victoria turns, her expression suddenly sharp. "You carry more secrets than most, Fiona Wright. But secrets have a way of surfacing, like stones in a spring field."
A chill runs through me. Does she know? Can she somehow sense the truth about Maisie?
"I should go," I say, rising quickly. "Thank you for the tea."
Victoria watches me with those knowing eyes. "The first trial begins in three days. Use the time wisely, Fiona. Prepare yourself—and your daughter—for what's to come."
The warning follows me out into the sunlight, settling like a stone in my stomach. I'm so distracted I almost collide with the broad chest that appears suddenly in my path.
Thomas.
He stands at the gate to Victoria's garden, hands shoved in the pockets of his jacket, looking as if he's been waiting. Morning sunlight catches in his blonde hair, turning it to gold.He's freshly shaven, his jaw clean-cut and sharp, his eyes clear and alert. The sight of him in daylight, so close I could reach out and touch him, makes my breath catch traitorously.
"Fiona," he says, my name careful on his tongue.
I straighten my spine, summoning the anger that's been my shield for six years. "Were you waiting for me?"
"I saw you heading this way." He gestures vaguely toward the main compound. "Thought we could talk."
"About the trials," I say flatly.
"Among other things."
I fold my arms across my chest. "I want to talk at the Pack Building. We can discuss the trials there. I don’t want to be alone with you, Thomas.”
He shifts his weight, frustration flickering across his features. "Look, I know this isn't what either of us wanted—"
"You have no idea what I want," I cut in, voice sharp with six years of stored rage. "You never did."
He flinches as if I've struck him. Good.
"That's not fair," he says quietly.
"Fair?" I repeat, incredulous. "You want to talk about fair? Was it fair when you dumped me without explanation after promising me forever? Was it fair when you left me to—"
I catch myself just in time, swallowing the dangerous words.
Thomas's expression shifts, something like pain shadowing his eyes. "Fiona—”
"Save it," I interrupt, stepping around him. "I'm not interested in your explanations, Thomas. I'm not interested inanything you have to say that isn't directly related to getting through these trials as quickly and painlessly as possible."
He moves to block my path, not touching me but close enough that I have to stop or collide with him.
"You can hate me all you want," he says, voice low and intense. "But we're in this together now. For better or worse."
"There is no ‘together,’" I hiss. "There's you, and there's me, and there's a sick joke of a tradition forcing us to tolerate each other's company. That's it."
His jaw tightens. "Fine. Have it your way. Pack Building, this evening. We'll keep it strictly business."
“Tomorrow,” I correct. “I have Maisie to take care of tonight.”
Not like he’d know what that’s like,a murderous little voice in my head says.It’s not like he’ll ever know.
“Fine,” agrees Thomas flatly. “But you can’t put it off forever.”
“I’m not.”
“Fine.”
