Page 81 of Fat Betrayed Mate
"Possibility," I echo, liking the sound of it—the open-ended promise of a future we'll build together.
We sit in comfortable silence for a moment, the events of the day settling around us like falling leaves. Then Fiona stands, extending her hand to me with a smile that holds secrets.
"Come with me," she says, leading me not toward the bedroom as I expect, but toward the front door.
"Where are we going?" I ask, following willingly despite my confusion. "It's late."
Her smile turns mysterious. "Not far."
Curiosity piqued, I let her lead me into the night. The forest embraces us, familiar paths silvered by moonlight. Fiona moves with purpose, guiding me deeper into the trees until we reach a small clearing I recognize from pack runs—secluded, private, with a natural hollow of soft moss at its center.
Only tonight, the clearing has been transformed. Lanterns hang from low branches, casting intimate golden light over a space that's been prepared with obvious care. Blanketscover the moss, creating a natural bed beneath the star-strewn sky.
"Fiona," I breathe, understanding dawning as she turns to face me.
"Our first time together as official mates," she says, suddenly shy despite her bold planning. "I wanted it to be special. Away from the cottage, just us and the forest and the moon."
I pull her into my arms, overwhelmed by the thought she's put into this moment. "It's perfect. You're perfect."
Her arms wind around my neck, drawing me closer. "I wanted to show you that I'm not afraid anymore—not of being a shifter, not of loving you, not of anything."
The kiss begins gently, a soft press of lips that quickly deepens into something more urgent. Six years of separation, a month of careful rebuilding, and now nothing stands between us—no secrets, no misunderstandings, no shadows from the past.
"I love you," I murmur against her lips. "I never stopped, not for one day."
Her hands find the buttons of my ceremonial shirt, her fingers sure and steady. "Show me," she whispers, a challenge and invitation in her amber eyes. "Show me how much."
Epilogue - Fiona
The moonlight casts Thomas in silver and shadow as he stands before me, eyes darkening with desire. My fingers work the buttons of his ceremonial shirt, each one revealing another inch of skin I've relearned over these past weeks in careful, measured doses. Tonight, there will be no holding back, no careful boundaries maintained.
Tonight, we are officially, irrevocably mates.
Thomas’ response to my words is immediate and consuming—strong hands framing my face as he claims my mouth with a hunger that steals my breath. This is different from our careful explorations in recent weeks.
The ceremonial dress slides from my shoulders with a whisper of fabric, pooling at my feet in the soft moss of our forest sanctuary. Thomas draws back just enough to look at me, his expression a mixture of awe and fierce possession that sends heat spiraling through my core.
"You're beautiful," he murmurs, voice rough with emotion. "Every day I wake up beside you, I can't believe you're real."
My heart swells as I push his shirt from his shoulders, revealing the body I've come to know again—strong and familiar and mine. The binding cord encircling his bicep catches the lantern light, a permanent reminder of the ceremony that officially united us hours ago.
"I'm real," I assure him, pressing a kiss to his chest, directly over his heart.
His hands trace reverent patterns down my sides, relearning curves that have changed subtly in the years apart—motherhood softening some edges while strengthening others. When he lifts me into his arms and lays me gently on the blankets spread across the forest moss, I feel simultaneously powerful and yielding.
He hovers above me, his body a constellation of planes and angles silhouetted by moonlight filtering through the canopy. The air between us charges with electricity as his mouth finds the sensitive hollow of my throat. My breath catches as his lips trail downward, mapping a path of fire across my collarbone, lingering at the pulse point that betrays my racing heart.
His calloused hands slide beneath me, lifting my hips to meet his, our bodies finding that perfect alignment that speaks of memory carried in muscle and bone. I arch against him, fingernails scoring light trails down his back as he claims another inch of skin with teeth and tongue. The forest around us disappears—there is only Thomas, only this moment, only the intoxicating slide of skin against skin.
"Thomas," I gasp as his mouth descends to my breast, his tongue circling before capturing the sensitive peak between his teeth. The gentle scrape sends lightning through my veins, my body bowing upward instinctively.
He growls—a primal sound that vibrates against my skin—before his hand tangles in my hair, tugging just enough to expose my throat to his hungry mouth. Gone is the careful lover of recent weeks, replaced by something wilder, more desperate.
"Mine," he rasps against my ear, his body pressing me deeper into our forest bed. "Say it."
"Yours," I breathe, the word barely escaping before his mouth crashes down on mine, swallowing any further sound.His kiss is demanding, almost bruising, his tongue claiming mine with a ferocity that makes me dizzy with need.
His hands are everywhere at once—gripping my thighs, circling my waist, tracing the curve of my spine. When his mouth begins a deliberate journey down my torso, I watch through half-lidded eyes as he trails kisses across my stomach, his intention clear in the hungry glint of his eyes.
