I have to maintain my power. It’s the only way to keep the pack safe.
The loading screen keeps spinning, and I start to relax out of sheer boredom.
Maybe there are no matches.
That would certainly make things easier, at least for now. I could tell the council I made an attempt, and it would buy me a few weeks before they started clamoring about it again.
My phone blinks and makes a tiny sound.
“Hi, Kit! Sorry to keep you waiting. Thank you for contacting us.”
My nerves slam into me again, almost taking my breath straight out of my lungs. I stare at the screen as if the phone has come to life and might be ready to attack me.
“It just so happens we have a potential match for you. Would you be interested in pursuing this?”
My blood rushes to my head, making my temples pound.
Come on, man. This is what you came for.
“Sure,”I reply.
“Excellent! Can you attend a meeting at Gryphon Eyrie tomorrow?”
Gryphon Eyrie is to the south of Cyan Lock. It’s a pretty little town under Vulture Peak and Gyrfalcon Lake. The trip isn’t difficult, and it won’t take me long to get there.
So why am I resisting?
Stupid question… I know why.
I stare at the screen for a full minute, frozen by indecision. The last thing I want to do is meet some random woman, but going through one more day of the current situation is just unacceptable.
My finger hovers over the screen. I’m close to opting out until a clear image materializes in my mind. It’s Galen, hoisting his son up onto his shoulders while Clara wraps her arms around his waist and kisses him. All of them wear huge, happy smiles. Along with the beautiful memory comes the pang of jealousy I still can’t shake.
Maybe this Iris Porter can do the same for me.
Before my hope can fade, I quickly tap the screen.
“Send me the details. I’ll be there.”
“Wonderful! See you there, Kit.”
As I close my phone and put it back in my pocket, dread rises, swallowing my optimism.
What have I done?
Chapter 3 - Lexa
The harsh glint of the sun hurts my eyes, even through my dark-tinted glasses. I turn my eyes downward and try not to wince.
Anxiety piled on top of a hangover on the eve of a blind date. How could this get any worse?
“Are you alright, dear? Can I get you something?” Iris asks brightly.
“No, thank you,” I mutter, taking a sip of incredibly strong coffee. When I arrived at the park, she was sitting at a picnic table waiting for me with a tall cup of straight black, super strong, sweet coffee.
Did she somehow know I take my coffee black and bitter as hell, or did she instinctively provide a tried-and-true hangover remedy?
Either way, it’s a bit creepy.
