Page 78 of Fat Betrayed Mate
Nic grins. "Terrified would be more accurate. Which is ridiculous, considering you've been practically living with them already."
"This is different." I turn away from the mirror, giving up on further improvements. "This is forever."
"Wasn't it always?" Nic steps forward, holding out the small wooden box containing the ceremonial binding cords. "From that first summer with her, weren't you always hers?"
The truth of it settles in my chest, solid and certain. Everything that came between—Edward's threats, six years of separation, the lottery that brought her back to Silvercreek—was just delay, not denial of what was meant to be.
"Here." Nic presses the box into my hands. "A gift from Luna and me. Traditional silver cords would burn, so we hadthese made with white gold instead. Safe for even the most sensitive shifter skin."
I open the lid to find three braided cords nestled on dark velvet—one white gold, one deep red, one honey brown. "Three?"
"One for each of you." Nic's expression softens. "Luna's idea. Maisie is part of this binding, too."
Emotion clogs my throat. In just one month, my solitary existence has expanded to include not just a mate but a daughter. It still blows me away.
"Thank you," I manage, closing the box carefully. "It's perfect."
Nic clasps my shoulder in the traditional gesture of pack support. "May your binding strengthen not just your bond, but the pack that surrounds you."
The formal blessing feels right in this moment, grounding me in traditions that stretch back generations. I'm about to respond with the traditional acknowledgment when the door flies open, a small whirlwind in a cream-colored dress bursting into the room.
"Daddy! Daddy! Is it time yet?" Maisie spins in an excited circle, her dress flaring around her. "Mama sent me to check if you're ready!"
My heart swells at the sight of her—my daughter, still a miracle to me after just a month of knowing her. She has adapted to the changes in her life with remarkable resilience, accepting me as her father with a child's wholehearted enthusiasm. Her shifting abilities have progressed steadily under our guidance, her control already impressive for her age.
"Almost ready, pup." I crouch to her level, straightening the flower crown sitting slightly askew on her dark curls. "How about you? Ready for the big ceremony?"
She nods solemnly, then breaks into a grin that's pure Fiona. "Elder Victoria let me practice carrying the binding bowl. I didn't spill even one drop of water!"
"That's my girl." I pull her into a quick hug, still marveling at how perfectly she fits in my arms, how natural it feels to be her father. "Are you nervous?"
"Nope!" She rocks back on her heels. "Mama says we're just telling everyone what we already know—that we're a family."
From the mouths of children comes the simplest truth. I look up to find Nic watching us with a smile, his own mate and son waiting for him beyond these walls.
"Well then," I say, standing and offering Maisie my hand. "Let's not keep our family waiting."
The Hollow has transformed under ceremonial preparation. What was once a place of tension—the site where Fiona's name was drawn in the lottery that started everything—now shimmers with celebration. Lanterns hang from ancient trees, casting golden light over gathered pack members. Flower garlands wind around the natural stone formation at the center, where Elder Victoria waits in ceremonial robes.
I take my place at the entrance to the sacred space, nodding to familiar faces as the pack assembles in a circle around the central stones. Ruby stands near the front, James at her side, their fingers discreetly intertwined. Even from here, I can see the way they lean toward each other, a new bond forming as mine becomes official.
A hush falls over the gathering as the music begins—a traditional pack melody played on wooden flutes and drums. I turn toward the forest path and lose my breath entirely.
Fiona walks toward me, luminous in a simple dress the color of moonlight. Her hair falls loose around her shoulders, adorned with small white flowers. She moves with the grace of her wolf, confident and sure, her eyes finding mine across the distance between us.
Beside her, Maisie skips, unable to maintain the formal pace, circling back to her mother and then rushing ahead toward me in her excitement. The pack chuckles warmly at her enthusiasm, tradition softening to accommodate a child's joy.
"Mama looks pretty," Maisie whispers loudly as she reaches me, slipping her small hand into mine. "You look pretty, too, Daddy."
A laugh escapes me as tension dissolves under my daughter's artless compliment. Fiona arrives before us, her smile holding secrets and promises meant only for me.
"Hi," she says softly.
"Hi yourself," I reply, suddenly tongue-tied like a teenager instead of a grown man about to claim his mate.
Elder Victoria raises her hands, silence falling over the gathering.
"We come together in the sacred Hollow to witness the binding of Thomas Ennes and Fiona Wright, and to welcome their daughter Maisie Ennes-Wright into our pack."
