Page 3 of Fat Sold Mate (Silvercreek Lottery Mates #3)

The Alpha’s office smells of old wood, leather, and the faint trace of pine that clings to Nic's clothes after his morning patrol. Beneath it, the faint old scent of cigars—Nic’s father was partial to them—runs beneath.

I drum my fingers against the mahogany table between us, struggling to focus on the security blueprints spread before us.

Afternoon light streams through tall windows, catching dust motes that dance in golden suspension, but all I can think about is the ceremony looming just eight or nine perilously short hours away.

“We'll station four guards here,” Nic says, tapping the map where the path to the Hollow opens to the main road. His voice carries the weight of command that's become more pronounced since the attack. “And another six along the perimeter.”

Thomas leans forward, his dark brows furrowed. “Seems excessive for a lottery ceremony. It's not like we're expecting trouble.”

“We weren't expecting trouble last time either,” I remind him, my voice sharper than intended. The memory of gunfire and screams during the League’s attack two months ago still wakes me at night, though I'd never admit it.

Nic's gray eyes meet mine, understanding passing between us. “Better paranoid than dead.”

“Or worse—mated to someone you can't stand,” Thomas adds with a slight smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. “Who knows—maybe an attack would make James feel better, at this point.”

He's trying for levity, but the joke falls flat in the tense room.

I push away from the table, restless energy coursing through my veins. My wolf paces beneath my skin, as anxious as I am about tonight. “Can we just acknowledge how fucked up this is? Choosing mates by lottery?”

“It worked for me and Luna,” Nic says quietly.

“And for me and Fiona,” Thomas adds.

“That's pure luck,” I counter, turning to face them. “Two success stories don't justify continuing an archaic tradition.”

Nic sighs, the sound heavy with the responsibility he carries. “The elders voted. I was outnumbered. You weren’t full of complaints on my behalf when it was me, asshole.”

“You're the Alpha,” I remind him. “You could have overruled them.”

“And start my leadership by alienating half the pack?” He shakes his head. “We needed unity then, and we especially need unity right now, James. The League attack showed us how vulnerable we are.”

I know he's right, but it doesn't make the knot in my stomach any looser. “So, I just smile and go along with it? Let some random drawing determine who I spend my life with?”

Thomas claps a hand on my shoulder. “Look at it this way—at least they've removed the trials part. Just a simple matching ceremony now.”

“Because that makes it so much better,” I mutter, shrugging off his hand. “All the quicker to send me off with someone I probably barely know.”

Nic rolls up the blueprints, his movements precise and controlled. “The ceremony starts at seven. I need you both there by six to do a final security sweep.”

“Fine,” I concede, knowing further argument is pointless. “But I'm on record as saying this is a mistake.”

“Duly noted,” Nic says dryly. “Now go get some air, work off some energy. You're making my wolf twitchy.”

I don't need to be told twice. The confines of this room, where I usually feel so comfortable, suddenly feel suffocating, and I stride out into the hallway, ignoring the curious glances from pack members I pass.

The Pack Building—a grand structure of stone and timber at the heart of Silvercreek—bustles with activity as preparations for tonight's ceremony continue.

Outside, the late August heat hits me like a wall. Sweat immediately beads on my forehead as I cut across the lawn, heading toward town without a clear destination in mind. Just away. Anywhere that isn't filled with lottery talk and pitying glances.

Silvercreek's town square is alive with weekend activity. The farmers' market sprawls across the cobblestones, colorful canopies billowing in the slight breeze. The few humans of our pack and our shifter majority mingle. Somehow, bigoted humans didn’t take that from us.

I weave through the crowd, nodding at familiar faces while avoiding conversation. The last thing I need is another well-meaning pack member asking if I'm “excited” about tonight. As if having my future decided by a random drawing is something to look forward to.

That's when I see her.

Ruby stands at a produce stall across the square, examining tomatoes with careful attention.

Sunlight catches in her dark hair, revealing hidden strands of copper.

She wears a simple blue sundress that hugs the generous curves I once held against me as we kissed—once, once— and the memory of how perfectly she fit in my arms sends a surge of heat through my body.

My wolf rises immediately, pressing against my consciousness with sudden, intense interest. Ours , he insists, though I've repeatedly told him otherwise. Whatever was building between Ruby and me died two months ago when she abruptly shut me out without explanation.

Still, I can't help watching her. The easy way she smiles at the vendor—Mrs. Chen, one of the few pack members who's always been kind to her. The graceful movement of her hands as she selects her purchases. The slight tilt of her head exposes the curve of her neck.

As if sensing my attention, Ruby suddenly looks up, her amber eyes scanning the crowd until they lock with mine. For a heartbeat, something like longing flashes across her face—so quickly I might have imagined it—before her expression shutters closed, all warmth vanishing.

She turns away, shoulders stiff, and disappears into the crowd with deliberate speed.

My wolf whines in confusion and frustration. Follow , he urges.

“Not a chance,” I mutter under my breath.

Two months of silence. Two months of her avoiding me like I'm contagious. Two months of wondering what the hell I did wrong after that perfect kiss.

I push the thoughts away and turn in the opposite direction, my mood even darker than before.

The lottery weighs heavier on me now, the possibility that I'll be bound to someone—anyone—other than Ruby suddenly intolerable, though I have no right to feel that way. God knows it’d be worse if it were her.

God knows we’d probably kill each other.

At least then, she’d have to talk to me, a traitorous voice murmurs in the back of my head. I shut it down fast.

By the time I return to the Pack Building, the shadows have lengthened, and my borrowed time has run out.

Elder Victoria waits in the antechamber outside the Council Room, her silver hair gleaming in the fading light.

At seventy-three, she remains one of our strongest shifters, her wolf as fierce as ever.

“There you are,” she says, her piercing blue eyes taking my measure. “The others are waiting.”

I follow her into the room where the rest of the Council of Elders has assembled. Five faces turn toward me—two men, three women, all well past middle age. The old guard of Silvercreek, keepers of traditions I increasingly struggle to respect.

“James,” Elder Patricia greets me, her steady voice resonating in the wood-paneled room. “We were beginning to wonder if you'd changed your mind.”

“As if I have a choice,” I reply, not bothering to hide my resentment.

Victoria's lips thin in disapproval. “The lottery is an honor, not a burden.”

“Tell that to the people it's paired with incompatible mates,” I counter, dropping into a chair across from them.

“If you can find one, I will,” Victoria responds coolly.

I can think of nothing to say to that. She’s not wrong.

“It's archaic,” I argue, pushing onward anyway, knowing I’m probably putting my foot in my mouth. “We're not living in the dark ages anymore. People should choose their own mates.”

Elder Marcus sighs heavily. “We've had this discussion, James. The lottery continues.”

“Fine,” I concede, knowing when I'm beaten. “Let's get this over with.”

Victoria slides a document across the table—the formal consent that will place my name in tonight's drawing. Though “consent” hardly seems the right word when refusal isn't an option.

“Your participation is particularly important,” she says as I scan the legalese. “You come from a mixed line—shifter father, witch mother—yet you've risen to become one of our strongest enforcers. Your success strengthens the pack.”

The mention of my mother—dead for so many years now—sends a familiar pang through my chest. She'd hate this lottery as much as I do. Maybe more.

“The Cheslem threat remains,” Victoria continues, her tone grave. “They've been quiet since we drove them from our border, but make no mistake—they're regrouping.”

“And this lottery helps how, exactly?” I ask, pen poised above the signature line.

“Unity,” Elder Marcus answers simply. “Strong bonds make a strong pack. A strong pack survives.”

“And the humans?” I press. “The League may be scattered, but their ideas linger.”

Victoria's expression darkens. “All the more reason to strengthen our core. The lottery creates ties that bind us together against outside threats.”

I sign my name with a sharp, angry stroke, then slide the document back. “There. Happy?”

“Your cooperation is appreciated,” Elder Patricia says, her tone softening slightly. “Who knows? Perhaps you'll find yourself as fortunate as your friend Nic.”

The thought sends my wolf into another restless fit of pacing. Nic found Luna. Thomas found Fiona. But the woman my wolf wants—the only one I've thought about for months—won't even look at me anymore.

“Is there anything else?” I ask, already rising from my chair.

Victoria shakes her head. “Be at the Hollow. Wear something appropriate.”

I leave without another word, the weight of what's coming settling around my shoulders like a heavy cloak. In less than four hours, my future will be decided by a random draw, a ritual as old as Silvercreek itself.

My wolf growls his discontent, pressing against my control until my eyes flash amber in the dimly lit hallway. I force him down with practiced effort, my knuckles white as I clench my fists.

Outside, the setting sun paints Silvercreek in shades of gold and crimson, beautiful despite the tension hanging in the air. Pack members hurry past on their way home to prepare for tonight's ceremony, excitement evident in their eager expressions and animated conversations.

I take the long way back to my cabin, cutting through the woods that border our territory. Here, away from prying eyes, I finally let my wolf loose enough to run—I can’t afford to stay out here for long, but I run far enough to burn off the restless energy threatening to consume me.

As dusk settles over Silvercreek, I shower and dress in the formal clothes laid out on my bed—dark pants, crisp white shirt, the slate-gray jacket that marks me as part of the Alpha's inner circle. The man in the mirror appears composed and confident, hiding the turmoil beneath.

A text from Nic lights up my phone: Perimeter secure. All quiet so far.

I respond with a thumbs-up emoji, lacking the energy for more.

My thoughts drift to Ruby again. In a heady daydream, more like a nightmare, I imagine her hightailing it away from Silvercreek right now, all to get away from me.

I wonder if she'll be able to stand to watch as my future is decided, as indifferent as she's been these past two months.

And I wonder, as I have every day since she walked away, what I did to lose her before I ever truly had her.

My wolf has no such doubts. Find her , he insists as I lock my cabin door and head toward town. Claim her .

“It doesn't work that way,” I mutter, but his certainty lingers.

As the lights of the town square come into view, I straighten my shoulders and set my face in the neutral mask expected of me. Whatever happens tonight, I'll face it with the strength that's earned me my place in this pack.

Even if every instinct I possess is screaming that it's wrong.