Page 2 of The Art of Professing Love

“I’ll be waiting with bated breath.” Sylvan winked.

“Don’t do that. You may die from lack of oxygen before you get your response.”

“I’m joking, cousin. I know it will take some time. Rest assured, though, I’ll be more than ready when that call finally comes through.”

With Sylvan’s profile completed, I bade him goodbye and set to work finding the perfect match. I was prepared to wait weeks or even months for the right man to come looking for his other half, but as soon as I opened my matchmaking book to place his profile inside, I knew the one was already there. I pulled out a sheet of paper, scanning it several times over to ensure I’d chosen the correct one.

“He can’t be it…But he is.”

I shook my head and sat down to write a letter. Sylvan might not be pleased, but I had only successes and no failures under my belt at this point. As long as he trusted me and my intuition proved right once again, my cousin would soon meet his one true soulmate, odd of a match as it might be.

2

IRVING

“How goes it, Irving?”

“Well enough, Cyrus. And you?”

My orc colleague smiled. “I can’t complain. I did bump my head on the door frame coming into work, but I’m rather used to that by now. And it doesn’t hurt that I’m hard-headed enough to barely feel it.”

I smiled politely. “I can imagine.”

“Do you have any plans for lunch today?”

I shook my head. “Not yet.”

“Come with me, then. I met a very nice gentleman who just started working here at the beginning of the semester and I think you would enjoy his company as much as I do, if not more.” Cyrus gave me a knowing smile.

“You know I’m not interested in that, my friend. After Lachlan, I would be happy never to date again.” I unlocked the door to my office, hoping to slip inside and shut it behind me before Cyrus could respond.

Cyrus was a chatty fellow, the polar opposite of me, and his conversations tended to drag on far longer than I wished.

“You have to move on eventually,” he called back before I could fully shut the door. “There are a number of good men out there who would happily love you for who you are if only you would give them a chance.”

“I doubt it. I’ll see you at lunch, Cyrus.”

With the door safely shut behind me, I sighed and leaned against it, grateful to be alone in the silence of my office.

Until, that was, I saw the pile of mail awaiting me in my inbox.

“God almighty,” I murmured, collapsing into my desk chair. “Does everyone in my life want me to have a nervous breakdown?”

I began the arduous process of opening each piece of mail, inspecting it for its importance, and sorting it into one of the three neat piles in front of me. The last piece in the tray was from the library, and for a moment, I doubted it was for me.

“They sent it to this room instead of Cyrus’, didn’t they?” I shook my head, turning it over to read the address. “No, that’s my name and my office number. How strange.”

I tore into it with a letter opener, slicing the top before setting the sharp little tool back on the desk. I unfolded the letter, adjusted my glasses, and read it carefully, eyes narrowing as I realized exactly what I’d gotten myself into.

Applying to the library’s matchmaking service had begun as a dare from some of my colleagues, Cyrus included. I’d just come out of a tumultuous relationship with a man who had, at one point, been my fiancé, and I was feeling bolder than usual.

That boldness quickly dissolved once I sat face-to-face with the idea of a soulmate, but the Librarian assured me that I was unlikely to get any matches for some time. That had been true, but now my time had come, and a few months were nowhere near long enough for me to come to terms with my foolishness. I’d hoped for years, if not longer.

“Ah, well,” I murmured, “it’s too late to turn back now. I suppose I should contact this so-called perfect match.” I shook my head. “How perfect can he possibly be if he got matched with me of all people?”

The contact information was included in the library’s letter, and based solely on the name, I had a sneaking suspicion that I’d been matched with a fae. A fae. There were worse monsters out there, to be sure – Luke Hammond got paired with a centuries-old vampire and our very own town priest ended up dating an incubus, of all creatures. Faefolk had nothing on vampires or incubi, but they were flighty flirty fellows at best, and at worst they were my greatest nightmare.

Still, I needed to give this particular fae a chance. The picture I painted of his kind could be far from reality. All monsters were different, much like humans, and stereotypes could be just as harmful to them as they were to us.

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