Page 35 of Fat Sold Mate (Silvercreek Lottery Mates #3)

Two months after the night that nearly destroyed everything, Silvercreek pulses with new life.

The summer evening air carries laughter from the town square where pack members gather for an impromptu celebration—no special occasion, just the simple joy of continued existence.

From our porch, the sounds of community rebuilding itself reach us in pleasant waves, background music to the peace we've carved out for ourselves.

Our cottage sits at the edge of town, close enough to Ruby's bookshop for convenience but far enough from the pack center to grant us the privacy new mates crave.

The small structure had been abandoned for years before we claimed it, but weeks of hard work have transformed it into something uniquely ours.

Ruby's herbs hang from kitchen rafters, my woodworking tools occupy the small shed out back, and books—so many books—fill every available surface.

“You're brooding again,” Ruby observes, stepping onto the porch with two steaming mugs of tea. “I can feel it through the bond.”

I accept the offered mug with a smile, watching as she settles beside me on the porch swing, her body fitting against mine with familiar ease. “Not brooding. Reflecting.”

“Semantic difference,” she teases, but her eyes hold understanding.

Silvercreek has changed irrevocably since the confrontation with the Cheslem pack.

Sera and Caleb, along with dozens of other cleansed Cheslem wolves, have integrated into our community—their presence initially met with wariness but increasingly with acceptance as the weeks pass.

The transition hasn't been smooth for all of them; many still wake from nightmares, flinching at sudden movements or sounds that trigger memories of corruption's hold. It’s going to be a long road to recovery for all of us, I know.

“Nic's been in meetings all day,” I mention, arm settling comfortably around Ruby's shoulders. “He and Thomas are interviewing potential new enforcers from the eastern packs. With our numbers nearly doubled, we need more security.”

Ruby nods, taking a sip of her tea. “Luna told me. She also mentioned that Marcus and Patricia stepped down from the elder council last night.”

“About time,” I say, though without malice. The older wolves had served Silvercreek faithfully for decades, but their traditionalist views had sometimes caused more harm than good. “Nic's bringing in younger voices. People who understand that Silvercreek needs to evolve.”

“While keeping some traditions,” Ruby points out with a small smile. “The lottery continues.”

The irony doesn't escape either of us. The very practice that forced us together—that we both initially resisted so strongly—has now become something we both support.

Elder Victoria's funeral last month marked the turning point.

As we laid her to rest with full pack honors, something shifted in Silvercreek's collective consciousness.

Her sacrifice represented the best of what our community could be—protective, selfless, focused on future generations rather than past grievances.

Now, the lottery continues in her honour, the tradition she fought so hard to enact.

Matthias and the few Cheslem leaders who had knowingly embraced corruption now sit in human prison cells, their crimes translated into terms law enforcement could understand and prosecute.

Kidnapping, assault, conspiracy—pale reflections of their true offenses, but sufficient to keep them contained and separated from both human and shifter societies.

“I stopped by the shop earlier,” I say, changing the subject to lighter matters. “Luna's got the magical texts section looking impressive.”

Ruby smiles, pride evident in her expression.

My sister has taken to co-managing the bookshop's newly expanded offerings, her pregnancy limiting her more physical activities but doing nothing to diminish her magical abilities.

If anything, the baby—due any day now—seems to have enhanced her connection to natural energies.

“She's nesting,” Ruby says with affection. “Just not in her own home. I think she's there more than I am these days.”

“She's happy for us,” I reply, pressing a kiss to Ruby's temple. “We all are.”

From inside the cottage comes a disgruntled meow, followed by the appearance of an enormous orange tabby in the doorway.

Maggie—finally properly named after weeks of being called “the cat”—regards us with typical feline judgment before sauntering onto the porch and settling possessively at Ruby's feet.

“Still not your biggest fan,” I mutter to the cat, who blinks at me with smug indifference.

Ruby laughs, the sound still capable of sending warmth cascading through me even after months of hearing it daily. “She's coming around. I caught her sleeping on your shirt yesterday.”

“Covering it in orange fur, no doubt.”

“Of course. It's how she shows love.”

The easy domesticity of the moment strikes me suddenly—how quickly this has become our normal, our reality, after so many weeks of danger and uncertainty. The bond between us hums with contentment, with a depth of connection that grows rather than diminishes with each passing day.

Reaching into my pocket, I withdraw the small package I've been carrying for days, waiting for the right moment. “I have something for you.”

Ruby's eyes widen with curiosity as she sets her mug aside, accepting the cloth-wrapped bundle with careful hands. “What's this?”

“Traditional courting gift,” I explain, suddenly nervous despite everything we've already shared. “Typically given before mating, but we did things a bit backwards.”

Her fingers unwrap the cloth to reveal a silver pendant, its surface etched with protection symbols that she's been teaching me to craft.

The central design—a wolf and moon intertwined with flowing script—represents our unique bond, neither fully shifter nor witch but something new and powerful in its hybridity.

“James,” she breathes, tears gathering in her amber eyes. “It's beautiful.”

“I had help,” I admit, watching as she traces the symbols with reverent fingers. “Luna guided the magical aspects, but I did the metalwork.”

Ruby lifts her gaze to mine, emotion flowing freely through our bond—love and gratitude and something deeper, something that makes my breath catch with its intensity.

“I have something for you, too,” she says softly. “Though it's not something I can wrap.”

My head tilts questioningly, though something in her tone, in the pulse of our bond, sends anticipation coursing through me before she even speaks.

“I'm pregnant,” she whispers, voice barely audible above the gentle creaking of the porch swing. “Just a few weeks along, but... we're going to have a baby.”

The world stops, narrows to this single perfect moment—Ruby's eyes meeting mine, her hand finding mine and guiding it to rest against her still-flat stomach. Through our bond flows a kaleidoscope of emotion too complex for words, too beautiful for anything but silent wonder.

“A baby,” I finally manage, voice rough with emotion. “Our baby.”

Ruby nods, tears spilling freely now. “I wasn't sure it was possible. With me being unable to shift, with everything we've been through... But Dr. Foster confirmed it yesterday.”

I gather her close, overwhelmed by fierce joy, by protective love so strong it nearly steals my breath.

“Perfect,” I murmur against her hair. “Absolutely perfect.”

I lean forward, capturing her lips with mine, a gentle kiss that quickly transforms into something deeper, more urgent. The bond between us pulses with new intensity, heightened by the knowledge of the life growing inside her.

“I love you,” I breathe against her mouth. “So much.”

Ruby responds by twining her arms around my neck, pulling me closer as the porch swing sways beneath us. Her fingers thread through my hair, sending shivers down my spine.

“Inside,” she whispers, her voice husky with desire. “Take me inside.”

I don't need to be told twice. In one fluid motion, I lift her into my arms, cradling her against my chest as I carry her through the front door. The house is quiet, warm—ours alone. I kick the door closed behind us, never breaking our kiss as I navigate the familiar path to our bedroom.

Ruby's hands are already tugging at my shirt, impatient, eager. I set her down beside our bed, the moonlight streaming through the half-drawn curtains painting silver patterns across her skin. Her eyes, luminous in the dim light, never leave mine as she reaches for the hem of my shirt and lifts.

I pull my shirt over my head in one quick motion, revealing skin that prickles with goosebumps in the cool air. Ruby's hands are immediately on my chest, her touch both familiar and electric. Her fingertips trace the lines of muscle, the scars that tell our story.

“Your turn,” I whisper, and she lifts her arms in silent invitation.

I slide my hands beneath the soft cotton of her blouse, savoring the warmth of her skin as I draw the fabric upward. She shivers as the garment falls away, leaving her in a simple lace bra that makes my mouth go dry. The moonlight catches on the curve of her breasts, the dip of her waist.

“You're so beautiful,” I tell her, voice rough with need.

My hand drifts to her stomach, reverent, protective. Ruby leans into my touch, a soft sigh escaping her lips. The sight of her—moonlit and wanting—breaks something loose inside me. In one swift movement, I pull her against me, my mouth finding hers with newfound urgency.

We tumble onto the bed together, hands everywhere at once. Her fingers fumble with my belt buckle while I reach behind her, unhooking her bra with practiced ease. The lace falls away, and I lower my head to taste her skin, drawing a gasp from her lips that sends heat coursing through my veins.

“I want you,” she breathes, arching beneath me as I trail kisses down her throat, across her collarbone, lower.

Clothing disappears in a frantic rush—her jeans sliding down her legs, my remaining garments joining them on the floor beside the bed.

When we're finally skin to skin, I'm overcome with need, driven by primal instinct and overwhelming love.

Ruby's body welcomes mine, her back arching as I cover her completely.

Our mouths find each other in desperate hunger, breathing each other's air as we move together.

The bond between us pulses, amplifying every sensation.

Her hands grip my shoulders, nails digging into my skin as I push forward, joining us completely in one fluid motion.

The sensation is exquisite—her warmth enveloping me, her gasp against my mouth, the tremble in her thighs as they wrap around my hips.

“God, Ruby,” I groan, burying my face against her neck.

Words fall away as we establish a rhythm, urgent and deep.

The knowledge of her pregnancy heightens everything—each touch more electric, each kiss more meaningful.

Through our bond, I feel her pleasure mingling with mine, creating a feedback loop of sensation that builds with each movement.

Her hands tangle in my hair, pulling me into a kiss that's all heat and need.

The pace of our bodies increases, desperate and wild.

I can't get enough of her—the taste of her skin, the soft sounds she makes when I hit just the right spot, the way her eyes flutter closed then open again to lock with mine.

I slide my hands beneath her, lifting her hips to deepen our connection, and she cries out, her body tightening around mine.

“Yes,” she gasps, “right there.”

The world narrows to just this—our bodies moving together, the ancient rhythm carrying us higher.

Ruby's breathing grows ragged, her movements more frantic.

Through our bond, I feel her hovering on the edge, so close to shattering.

I drive deeper, harder, watching her face as pleasure overtakes her.

When she finally breaks, it's with a cry that echoes through the room, her body tensing beneath mine, around mine.

The sight of her—head thrown back, eyes closed in ecstasy, my name on her lips—sends me hurtling over the edge after her.

The tension that had been building snaps, pleasure crashing through me in waves as I bury my face against her neck, groaning her name against her skin.

For endless moments, we cling to each other, trembling, pulsing, our bond amplifying every sensation until I can't tell where my pleasure ends and hers begins.

Gradually, our breathing slows. I press my forehead against hers, unwilling to break our connection just yet. Ruby's hands drift lazily up and down my back, her touch soothing now rather than urgent. The moonlight bathes her face in silver, highlighting the flush in her cheeks.

“I love you,” I murmur, carefully shifting to lie beside her, one arm still draped protectively across her body.

“I love you too,” Ruby whispers, nestling against me. Her fingertips trace idle patterns on my chest as our heartbeats gradually slow to a synchronized rhythm.

We lie in comfortable silence, the moonlight painting silver streaks across the rumpled sheets. Ruby's breathing grows deeper, more even, and I glance down to find her eyelids growing heavy.

“Sleep,” I whisper, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

She makes a soft sound of contentment, her body relaxing further against mine. “Stay with me in the morning?”

“Always,” I promise, pulling the blankets over us. And I mean it. Nothing has ever been more true.

*****

THE END