Page 21 of Fat Enemy Mate

“But we don’t know why they want to use me or what they think I can do for them,” I say. “Maybe they just want to kill me if they can get close enough.”

He shakes his head. “No, I think they think your power could weaken other shifters. They will be hoping they can use that to attack us.”

“I don’t want to be involved in any of this,” I tell him, unsure which is more terrifying, that they might just want to kill me, or use me in some kind of shifter war that has nothing to do with me.

I swirl the coffee in the cup, realizing that I’ve hardly drunk any and it’s gone cold. The facts are stacking up in my mind, each more damning than the last. I’m in a cabin under heavy snowfall, in Wilf’s pack territory, surrounded by high-tech security designed to stop anything getting in, but also preventing me from getting out. My ankle is still healing, and there’s no way out of here except on foot. My voice didn’t work on Wilf, and therefore might not work on other shifters anyway, and the rogues probably have protection against it now. They seem to want to either kill me or use me in some kind of attack, and Idoubt Wilf’s pack will let me just walk away if they think I could be a threat to them.

I look at Wilf, and he’s watching me closely. Perhaps I have all my fears written all over my face because he seems to be giving me a moment to process it all. The look on his face isn’t pity—it’s something calmer, as though he’s dealt with bigger problems than this and he’s not half as concerned as I am. But then, it’s not his life, is it?

“What do I do?” I ask him.

“Nothing right now,” he replies, walking over to the island and taking a seat across from me. “You stay here, with me. I’ll update the pack and see what the witch has made of the talismans. Maybe they’re not connected to your power; perhaps it’s just more Cheslem nonsense. We work out the next steps as the snow clears.”

At that, we both turn and look out of the window. The snow is coming down harder now, and that almost feels like a blessing because if we can’t get out, it’s doubtful anything else will be on the move out there. But this is a late snowfall, and they never last long, thawing quickly. It’s a reprieve, not an answer.

Chapter 11 - Wilf

The cold helps a bit. It’s probably the only thing keeping me on track this afternoon—being outside with my hand on the axe, my breath fogging the air, and the satisfying burn in my muscles as I split the wood for the new supports to hold up the roof for the rest of the season. In the summer, the pack will come out and build a whole new store; this one has clearly seen better days.

I push the final prop into place and check the others to make sure they’re going to hold before I pick the axe back up and begin splitting some more dry logs to take back inside. I throw a few more on the pile because I’d rather drag this out than head straight back in. The cabin is secure; I won’t be making that mistake again. Though with this new heavy snowfall, I don’t think even Lara would make a run for it right now. Her fear is making her reckless, but she’s not stupid.

My wolf is still pacing beneath the surface. He’s been restless ever since she walked away from me after that kiss, even though I’ve tried to ignore it and let her have her space. It’s not the kind of restlessness that I can talk him down from; he’s been on edge ever since the lottery, and this situation is just getting to him. He can’t have what isn’t available, and that girl isn't available.

But he’s not listening because now he knows how good she tastes. Perhaps, after feeling so out of sorts after the lottery, he’s just wanting to see things that aren’t there. Picking a woman who isn’t human and doesn’t hate shifters would be a start, though.

I swing the axe harder than needed, and it splits the wood before lodging in the block. I curse under my breath as I work it back out and set it down, tossing the split logs onto the pile.

I didn’t go back to see Elder Amelia like I said I would. I just kept telling myself it didn’t matter; there was clearly no match for me. It might never have happened before, but it’s just my luck that even the sacred pack magic didn’t think I was worthy of a mate. Or perhaps the magic doesn’t really see me as being part of the pack, not properly. Which feels ironic, given that Caleb and Dina found their match only recently, after joining from Cheslem.

Not that I begrudge them a happy future, but the weight of my own not being within my own pack sits heavily. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.

So, whatever my wolf wants from Lara is probably just trying to fill some kind of hole that damn lottery, but inside me. And that’s stupid, and certainly nothing I want to examine too closely.

I load up the basket and finish tarping the woodpile, then gather the tools and head back toward the cabin, kicking the snow off my boots and disabling the security before going inside. The front room is warm and quiet. I reset the alarms and glance around. She’s not here, but I can hear her in the bedroom she’s using, so I set down the tools by the door and peel off my coat and boots, checking my phone.

Three missed calls. Two from Nick and one from Connor. There’s a text from Connor too, in his usual no-nonsense style:Wilf. Ring me or Nick. Answer your damn phone. C

I hesitate over replying now, but then spot a voicemail from Nick, so I press play and lean against the counter.

“Wilf, it’s Luna,” she says, “Anya’s here and we’ve got an update on the talismans. Call back when you can.”

I take a breath and call Nick’s number; he picks up on the second ring.

“You’re alive,” he drawls, “I’ve had Connor blowing up my phone over you, but I suspect you’re calling for Luna’s update on the talismans, am I right?”

I smile despite myself and run a hand over my stubble. “I’ll call Connor,” I tell him, “but, yes, Luna left a voicemail.”

He chuckles, knowing exactly how Connor gets when he can’t get hold of folk. “I’ll get her on the line,” he says, and I hear him move through the house before the line goes onto speakerphone.

“Wilf,” I hear Nick tell Luna, and then there’s the sound of her doing something in the background before she comes onto the line.

“Hey, Wilf,” she says, and I can practically see her smiling into the phone. “Are you ok?”

“I’m all good, thanks,” I tell her, “you said Anya had looked at those talismans?”

“She did; we finished up about an hour ago. She says they are a strong protective working. She’s seen the style before, but not the exact composition; definitely not amateur work and very dark. This isn’t good magic. I think we all got that read when handling them.”

That’s an understatement, I think, just touching them made my wolf feel off. But then, anything from Chelselm tends to have that effect. “Protecting against what?” I ask.