Page 9 of Forced Plus-Size Mate
“Amanda,” Lucy whispers. “Join me.”
I hesitate for a moment, then hurry into the circle to kneel across from Lucy. She takes a big handful of dried herbs and throws them into the fire, making it blaze high, sending sparks above our heads into the column of smoke.
Lucy looks up, watching the sparks trace their patterns across the stars. Smoke bleeds across my vision, showing me shadowed images and arcane symbols. I shake my head as tears begin to roll down my cheeks.
“You know,” Lucy states. Her tone forces my eyes up to hers. She looks so centered, so sure of herself, that I seem to shrink in front of her. “You know more about this than you’re saying!” Her voice has risen, and when she narrows her eyes at me. I feel like she’s seeing through me, right to my soul.
“Here,” Lucy says, handing me a small leather bag. “Cast the runes.”
“No,” I say.
“Why?” Lucy snaps. “Because you know what they will say?”
“Don’t make me do this, Lucy,” I moan. With every fiber of my being, I want to run from the circle, bolt into the woods, and never return.
“Cast the runes,” she urges again.
“I don’t want to,” I mutter.
“You would condemn your circle to a life without magic?” she asks. “The way is clear to me—I can see everything. The great rift between the bloodlines, the unraveling of our powers—it started with you!”
“I can’t,” I gasp, barely able to breathe. “I can’t do this!”
I hear the other witches start to call out to me. All of them sound angry, and I don’t blame them. Hot tears run down my cheeks as sorrow and pain collide in my chest.
Body.
Just the whisper of his name in my mind makes me cry even harder. I tighten my hand on the small leather bag, knowing that I have to cast the runes.
I have no choice. I know what they will say, but I can’t believe it unless I see it with my own eyes.
“Amanda,” Lucy whispers. Her voice is edged with anticipation, and I look up at her with alarm.
“What is it?” I ask.
“You have a mate,” she says. “The smoke shows me… that love has already claimed your heart.”
Stop.
“Lucy,” I beg, “please don’t make me cast the runes. We can find other ways to save our magic—”
“You can’t, and you know this. Even if you didn’t, the evidence is before you. I married a wolf, and I’m stronger than ever. Old Jen was right… we need the ancient traditions. They can heal us all.”
“You don’t understand!” I snap. “I left for a good reason! I could not have survived another day in this town. Whatever the smoke is showing you, whatever the runes might say, all of it is useless because—”
He betrayed me. He doesn’t want me.
“Amanda,” Lucy says, shaking her head. “It’s too late.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, suddenly terrified. “Too late for what?”
“He’s already here,” Lucy points into the smoke towards the nearby trees.
I turn around in horror, seeing the dark figure moving closer. At first, it stalks towards us in wolf form, then as he approaches the circle, the figure slowly shifts and walks upright. He pauses at the edge of the circle, and the other witches move out of the way to let him through.
He stands before me, wreathed in sacred smoke, his body lit by the flickering flames of the low fire. He seems taller, his muscles longer and leaner than I remember. Ash-blond hair that used to be cut short and spiky now curls at the edges of his ears, slightly tarnishing his “good boy” vibe.
Compared to the guy I knew in high school, this could be a completely different person. This is not a carefree, arrogant kid. This is a man, a mature creature tempered by a life of discipline and sacrifice. His expression is drawn and serious, nothing like the lopsided, mischievous grin I used to adore.
