Page 42 of Fat Enemy Mate

I nod because I know I have no choice and walk over to stand with her in the morning sun. “You haven’t been to see me, Wilf,” she says, eventually.

“No,” I tell her. “I’ve had a lot on.”

“So I hear,” she smiles, “but it’s been a long time to sit with an issue we should discuss.”

“I know. But I’m not sure there’s much to say really.” I tell her.

She turns to me. Her eyes are pale blue and crystal clear, and they have the same effect on me now as they did when I was a boy, meaning there’s no way to lie to her.

“The girl,” she says.

“What about her?” I reply, evenly, not sure I want to hear whatever’s coming.

“You’ve brought her into the pack, and she’s at your cabin.” She says, and neither is a question; she always knows everything that’s going on.

“Wilf,” she says, and her voice has gone softer, which I’d already learned years ago is worse than if it had gone harder, “I’m not here to tell you what to do about her. That isn’t my business. What is my business is the lottery, and I’d be failing in my job not to say to you what I have to say. Your bowl is still open. Your flame went up at the lottery and didn’t go down. That hasn’t happened before, and I’ve seen so many lotteries. It hasn’t gone down because the goddess hasn’t finished with it. There is a mate for you. Whether she’s in the pack today, or in another pack we haven’t met yet, or yet to be born, I can’t tell you, but the bowl is still open, and the magic is working.”

“Ok,” I say.

“And you’re carrying a connection to a woman who isn’t a wolf.” Again, not a question.

“You could put it like that,” I tell her.

“Wilf,” she says, after a moment, “do you mean to take her as a mate?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think that’s what she’d want, and I’m used to being on my own.” I tell her, the honesty taking even me by surprise.

“That’s an honest answer. I’m not asking you to know today. I’m asking you to be careful, and I’ll tell you why.” She says.

I wait.

“A mating bond between two wolves runs through both of them the same way,” she says. “It anchors in both. It can break, and when it does, both of them feel it, and both are wounded byit the same way. The pain is even on both sides. They’re built for it.”

“Yeah. Well, Fern isn’t a wolf, and she and Connor are fine.” I say.

“They are,” she says, nodding, “But you have the open lottery magic, which I fear may… amplify things. If you bond and it breaks, your wolf could become unstable. It might be survivable, but I wouldn’t guarantee it. Then there’s the mating itself, and I won’t be coy just for you. Humans break far more easily, and for the mating bond to happen like this, it’s possible he won’t be as careful as he should. It can be intense anyway, but this situation is unprecedented. Humans don’t heal the way shifters do. I’m not telling you what to do about this girl, but I would be failing you both if I didn’t warn you about the sheer power of the lottery magic and my concerns.”

I don’t say anything for a long moment.

“That’s the warning, Wilf,” she says, more softly. “I’m not telling you not to be with her. That’s not for me to say. I’m telling you to be very clear with yourself before you take any further steps, because there is no map for this. There hasn’t been a wolf with an open bowl and a human in the same room that I know of, and I’m old enough to have heard of most things. That’s different from what happened with Fern and Connor.”

“Okay,” I tell her.

“Have I made sense?” She asks gently.

“You have,” I say, trying not to let any of the tension I feel leak into my tone.

“Good.” She studies me a moment before turning to walk back inside. “All will be fine, Wilf. You’ll see.”

I stand there for a minute and watch as the door closes. Then I get into my truck, trying very hard not to let my wolf think too hard, though that is a losing battle.

It’s a long drive out through the main square, cutting across town, and then out onto the mountain road toward the ridge. I don’t reply to the conversation so much as I walk through the steps of what she said. The lottery I never wanted to be at, that pulled my name out and didn’t have anyone for me, has left this open magic just circling me ever since, and my wolf has probably latched onto the first woman who fell into my lap, quite literally. My wolf doesn’t care what Amelia said, and he doesn’t think the attachment to Lara is random. He wants her, wants to get back to her, and wants to mate her, regardless of what Elder Amelia said.

But I’m a man, and that balance between man and wolf feels particularly tenuous right now.

I get to the cabin just after twelve. The smoke’s up from the chimney. Fern’s truck isn’t on the drive anymore, which means she’s already left. The yard’s quiet, and the ridgeline looks peaceful.

Lara’s in the front room when I walk in, curled up in the corner of the deep sofa under one of the throws, her feet tucked under her, a paperback open on her knee with the fire going. Her hair’s loose. She’s wearing a navy sweater I don’t recognize, probably one of the ones Luna brought up the other day. She doesn’t see me for a second because she’s reading. The firelight is on her face and on the page. She’s got a mug in her hand on the arm of the sofa, and the picture of her sitting in my front room like she belongs there hits me harder than anything Amelia said in the courtyard.