Fat Enemy Mate (Silvercreek Lottery Mates #8)

Chapter 1 - Wilf

I’m late.

Not late enough to have missed the lottery completely, which is the bit that annoys me the most. If I’d dragged my feet a little longer, they’d probably be wrapping it up by now.

I cut the engine behind the general store and sit there, dragging out a few more moments, watching my breath fog the windshield, before I force myself to get out and head toward the sounds drifting from the packed town square.

Skipping the lottery isn’t something you do in Silvercreek.

I told Nick I’d be here, so that’s what I’ll do.

The square is already full when I come up through the side alley; the sound of an entire pack gathering becomes louder the closer I get.

Folding chairs line the sidewalk for the elders, and kids run between the lampposts, obviously overexcited for the fair that follows the lottery.

Bunting has been strung up, probably organized by Luna and her friends, and is swaying in the early evening breeze.

Someone has lit the firepits, and a band is setting up at the other end of the square, ready to kick off after the newly bonded pairs are announced.

I scan the crowd and find a spot behind Bryan and Fiona with a clear view of the dias set up for Elder Amelia, with the bowl still empty because the fire hasn’t been called yet.

Bryan clocks me immediately and turns, nodding.

I nod back. Fiona has their youngest on her hip, swaying him in that way that mothers do.

Neither comments on me turning up late, which I appreciate.

That’s one of the things I like about Bryan; whilst he notices everything, he rarely remarks on any of it.

Nick and Luna are already standing on the stage area, off to one side.

Nick’s arm is around Luna’s lower back, the way it usually is when they’re in public together, and he keeps glancing at her.

Not nervous—he’s never nervous—but checking on her.

I force myself to look away and spot Connor and Thomas walking the perimeter, counting heads, eyes moving over the pack, forever watchful.

I’m surprised Caleb isn’t with them, but then I see him standing with Alora and Dina; they look like a proper family these days.

A growing family, if I heard right. Good on him for settling in the heart of the pack so fast. Something I haven’t managed in a lifetime.

I see some movement to the side of the stage, and watch Elder Amelia move into position, standing in front of the bowl and seemingly waiting for everyone to get into position as the crowd begins to settle.

She has the sort of presence that doesn’t require a loud voice in order to garner attention, as everyone reacts by instinct.

She seems to be looking for something, or someone, and catches my eye, tipping her chin in quiet acknowledgment, as if to say Good, you’re here. I feel immediately unsettled, but I’ll be damned if I show it on my face. She looks away, satisfied that the crowd is ready, and lifts her hand.

The square falls completely silent.

She doesn't make a speech. She doesn’t need to. She just says, in her familiar and steady voice that somehow carries further than it should, "Let’s begin."

She waves her hand over the bowl, and the flame appears.

It rises slowly, flaring blue at the base, then turning gold at the top, and finally settling into a low burn.

The light illuminates her face, and behind her, I see Luna close her eyes for a second, almost as if she’s processing the weight of the magic in the air.

“Mira Calloway and Thomas Reid,” Elder Amelia begins to call the names.

Everyone watches as Mira and Thomas step forward. They’ve known each other all their lives and have mutual friends, so the pack titters and jokes as they make their way toward the stage. Elder Amelia continues to call names until a small group is assembled.

“You ready for this?” Bryan murmurs in front of me, barely turning his head.

“For what?” I reply.

“Your name being next,” he chuckles.

I shrug. “Never has before.”

“Yeah, well, could be the year.” He says before Fiona nudges him in the ribs to get him to focus.

I smirk at how he falls into line, but don’t answer.

Bryan tells me it’s going to be my year, every year.

I suspect he just likes winding me up, though ever since he met Fiona, he’s been so loved up that he’s got that air of a guy who just wants everyone else to know how great it is to have a mate.

He and Fiona are good people and probably one of the best examples of how a steady bond benefits the pack—doesn’t mean it’s for me though.

"Wilf Hareford," Elder Amelia says. "Hannah Bright." Elder Amelia calls out, and I feel the pack around me shift slightly. Hannah is standing a few feet away, and she glances in my direction as Bryan and Fiona move to the side, encouraging me to walk forward; Bryan with a shit-eating grin as I pass by. I push off the post I’ve been leaning against and walk toward the stage, taking my place to the side. I catch Luna’s eye as I settle into place, and there’s something gentle and knowing there that I don’t want to dwell on.

With a small group now established on stage, Elder Amelia calls Thomas to the bowl first, then Mira. They each approach and hold their hands over the bowl together, palms down, the way we all know to do it by now.

The flame instantly brightens to pure gold, but no more than that.

It doesn’t flare blue, and it settles quickly.

Elder Amelia inclines her head, and Mira steps away.

The pack gives them a small round of applause as usual.

Mira waves at Thomas playfully as they laugh at something their friends call out—clearly, these two are definitely just friends, and a match wouldn’t have been right.

Elder Amelia calls one of the other women forward, Sara, one of the young teachers.

Thomas and Sara repeat the process, but this time, the flame instantly flares bright blue, and the crowd erupts.

Thomas and Sara beam at each other, and I suspect this match is much more welcome.

Mira steps forward to embrace Sara as the crowd settles slightly.

At least one match always guarantees a good party afterward.

Elder Amelia raises her hand to silence the pack as she works her way through the list. Two more pairs result in two more steady gold flames rather than a blue flame match before my name is called, and I step forward.

Only Hannah and a girl named Aria remain unmatched, and I catch Hannah’s eye as I step forward.

She gives a small, nervous smile, which I try to match but probably fail.

I lift my hand toward the bowl, and the flame jumps before I’m even close.

Not the golden rise it gave the others at first glance, but something deeper and sharper.

The flame climbs gold and then shoots up so high that someone in the crowd gasps.

A mix of gold and blue begins to weave through the flames, and I look up at Hannah, who was called forward but now hesitates.

With Elder Amelia’s encouragement, Hannah steps closer, but when she tentatively puts her hand forward, the flame diminishes slightly, and the blue disappears altogether.

It keeps burning, though.

Elder Amelia’s eyes move between the flame and Hannah before she thanks and dismisses her. Hannah drops her hand and steps back, looking confused, but clearly relieved. Elder Amelia lifts her hand and passes it over the bowl, slow, palm down. The flame holds.

"Wilf, hand still over, please," she says.

I keep my hand where it is.

"Aria Penn," Elder Amelia says.

Aria steps forward. I don’t know much about her, only that she's a friend of Skylar's in her mid-twenties and a healer-in-training at the clinic.

She walks to the bowl with the same wary curiosity Hannah had.

She glances at Elder Amelia for reassurance, perhaps, before putting her hand over the flame across from mine.

The flame stays gold but diminishes again, any trace of blue vanishing. We all seem to pause for a moment, but after a few seconds, it is clear that it’s not going to change now.

Elder Amelia's mouth tightens, just a fraction. She checks her notes again, almost searching for another name, but we all know there aren’t any more called in this lottery. She gives Aria a small nod, and Aria steps back, but the flame returns to that same impossible height with the blue flecks.

The pack has gone completely silent now, the kind of silence that gets louder the longer it goes on.

I can hear the crowd shuffling and the cry of a small child being soothed.

The pack is processing. Two women, two strange flame reactions.

The flame is answering me, but it doesn't match any of the women who could have matched tonight.

So what does that mean?

My wolf feels wrong, restless, and too hot.

It’s a tight feeling, like I’m being pulled towards something, but there’s nothing there.

I noticed it the moment the flame started rising, and it hasn’t settled.

I almost wish one of those women had been a match because I feel like that’s what it needs to settle, but there’s nothing.

It’s as though the magic is reaching for something, but there’s nothing there.

Elder Amelia looks to me, and the focus in her gaze goes razor sharp for a moment. I watch as something unreadable passes across her face; it might be surprise, or it might be something much cooler than that. It’s gone in a flash and replaced with her usual calm and capable demeanor.

"That's enough for now," she says quietly. "Wilf, you can lower your hand."

I lower it, but the flame doesn’t stop; it just keeps going. And even when it finally drops, it doesn’t fall the way it did with the others; it simply falls and extinguishes as though it’s given up.

The bowl is filled with dull embers, and the smoke curls up into the sky. The pack remains deadly silent.