THE ALPHA’S UNWANTED PLUS-SIZE MATE

Chapter 7

Clara’s pov

The second letter arrived the same way the first one had, tucked under the napkin holder like it belonged there.

Marnie slid it across the counter during the mid-morning lull. “Another one. Same handwriting. You going to burn this one too, or actually read it this time?”

I stared at the envelope. My name in that same dark ink. No return address.

The new heat in my chest, the one that had nothing to do with the old bond, flared once, sharp enough that I had to set the coffee pot down before I dropped it.

“I’ll take it upstairs later,” I said.

Marnie raised an eyebrow. “Suit yourself. But whatever’s in those letters is clearly not done with you. You’ve been jumpy ever since the first one showed up.”

“I’m fine.”

“You keep saying that. One of these days I’m going to stop believing you.”

I shoved the letter into my apron pocket and kept working. The heat stayed, low and steady, the same way it had for days now.

My wolf watched it the way she watched everything else lately, quiet, alert, like she already understood something I didn’t.

Frank came in at his usual time, newspaper under one arm. “Morning, Clara. You look better today. Sleep finally catch up?”

“Some,” I lied. The dreams hadn’t stopped. Last night the silver thread had been brighter, the voice clearer.

I’d woken with the heat in my hands again and sat on the floor until the sky started turning gray.

He took a long sip of the coffee I’d already poured.

“You sure? You’ve got that same look my daughter used to get when something was chewing on her and she wouldn’t talk about it.”

“I’m sure. Extra napkins?”

He nodded and let it go, but his eyes stayed on me a moment longer than usual. I moved to the next table before he could ask anything else.

Denise came in for her oatmeal a little later. She took one look at my face and said, “You’re still pale. Whatever’s going on, it’s not just bad sleep.”

“I’m fine, Denise.”

“You keep saying that too. One of these days I’m going to stop believing you either.” She left an extra dollar under her saucer when she paid, the same way she always did when she thought I needed it.

By the time the lunch rush slowed I couldn’t stand the weight of the letter any longer.

I took my break out back, sat on the concrete step, and tore the envelope open with more force than necessary.

Clara,

The Silvercrest alliance is pushing hard. The elders want a formal mating contract signed by the next full moon.

Their Alpha’s daughter is already being prepared as Luna. I keep putting them off. I don’t know how much longer I can.

The bond hasn’t faded. I feel it every night. Stronger, not weaker. I know you burned the last letter.

I don’t blame you. But if you’re still out there, I need you to know the rejection was never about you. It was politics. Stupid, short-sighted politics. And I’m paying for it.

I won’t ask you to come back. I have no right. Just… be careful. Things are getting complicated here.

Kael

I read it twice. Then a third time, slower, like the words might change if I stared hard enough. They didn’t. Politics. That was the reason. Not that I was weak, or unworthy, or a mistake the bond had made.

Just that an alliance with another pack had mattered more than the mate bond that had slammed into both of us that night in front of everyone.

I should have felt vindicated. Instead I felt the same cold anger from the clearing, only quieter now, and underneath it something I didn’t want to name.

The back door opened. Marnie stepped out with a cigarette she still didn’t light and a glass of water she set beside me without comment.

“You're going to tell me what’s in it this time?”

I folded the letter carefully. “Pack politics. Alliances. The usual reasons people do cruel things and call them necessary.”

She studied my face. “You going to burn it?”

“Not yet.”

“Progress, I guess.” She nodded toward the alley. “You look like you want to hit something. Don’t let it be one of my customers.”

“I won’t.”

“Good. Because whatever that letter said, it’s sitting on you harder than the first one did.”

I didn’t answer. She waited another few seconds, then went back inside.

I stayed on the step, letter in my hand, the heat in my chest pulsing in time with my heartbeat.

My wolf pushed closer, restless in a way that felt almost like recognition.

I whispered, “He regrets it. So what? He still chose the alliance over the bond. Over me.”

She didn’t answer in words. She just kept watching the place where the old bond still lived, stubborn and unfinished.

I went back to work. The rest of the shift passed in a blur of plates and coffee and forced small talk.

Every time the bell over the door rang I felt my shoulders tighten, like some part of me expected him to walk in even though that made no sense.

He wouldn’t. He was busy managing elders who wanted a convenient Luna and an alliance that would keep the borders safe.

That night I sat on the edge of the bed with the letter open on my lap. The coffee can of tips was under the bed. The thrift-store boots were by the door.

The room still smelled like soap and old wood. All of it was mine. None of it had anything to do with Moonridge or Silvercrest or political pressure.

I read the letter one more time, then folded it carefully and put it in the drawer of the dresser instead of the burn barrel.

The heat in my chest rolled again, stronger, warmer, almost insistent.

The dream would come later. I already knew that.

The silver thread, the gold light in my hands, the voice telling me I was never meant to stay small.

I lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling, one hand resting over the place where both the old bond and the new heat lived.

“Politics,” I said to the empty room. “That’s what you chose. Not me.”

The warmth answered with another slow pulse, and somewhere far away I could almost feel the echo of his unease, like the bond itself was tired of being ignored.

I closed my eyes and waited for the dream to take me, knowing that when it did the heat would only get stronger.