2
Raider has an hour to kill before the ritual contractors show up. He’s used to the “hurry up and wait” lifestyle, but he’s antsy in a way he never used to get on the job.
Which is fucking hilarious. Twenty years of high-stakes paranormal treasure hunting? No problem. Six months into his new career as a small business owner? Raider’s ready to tear his hair out.
Or his sister’s hair, if Val keeps bugging him about dating.
Propping his boots up on his shop counter, Raider leans back in his chair. The shop is nearly ready—an organized, practical space. Plain wooden shelves for the safe merchandise, and spell-proof glass-fronted cabinets for the slightly less safe merchandise. Anything actually risky will be downstairs. The shelves and cabinets are all empty now, of course. Raider can’t store much inventory before his contractors finish setting up the ritual protections. He’s more used to breaking wards than setting them, so calling in other experts is safer.
Val suggested beaded curtains and incense burners, but Raider vetoed the woo factor. He doesn’t need to wonder whether mysterious wispy smoke is just incense or something actually haunted.
Raider won that argument, because Artifacts, Alchemy, Etc. is his retirement project. Not hers. But Val is much more determined about her new crusade: shoving Raider back into the dating scene. She hasn’t shut up about this HH app, and she’s only gotten more annoying since their Valentine’s Day event rolled out.
“Valentine’s Day is only a month away,” Val said over beers last night. “You need someone to keep you company in your old age. You’re going to turn into a hermit living over your little shop.”
Raider waved at the crowded sports bar around them. “Much pathetic, very hermit.”
Val rolled her eyes. “Hanging out with your cool, awesome sister doesn’t count. I swear, the only way you’re getting laid is if Cupid hand-delivers you a piece of ass.”
“Whatever, Valkyrie,” Raider says. But Val must be getting more mature too, because the use of her full name doesn’t piss her off like it used to. She just smirks like she knows exactly what Raider’s doing.
The worst part is Val’s probably right. Not about the old age thing—Raider is only thirty-five. And he only looks twenty-nine.
Which is the problem. Raider hasn’t indulged in anything more than mindless hookups in six years. Hooking up is easy. Raider’s a confident man, which would be hot enough even if he wasn’t also actually hot. Six foot two, phenomenal tattooed biceps, and piercing golden eyes? Raider’s not really his own type, but he’s obviously a ten.
Serious dating, however, gets complicated with the whole immortality thing.
Drinking from the Fountain of Youth seemed like a good idea at the time. After all the effort needed to find the fountain in the first place, not drinking seemed like a waste. Raider doesn’t exactly regret the sip, but he hadn’t thought through the practicalities.
Val understands to an extent. She was right there with him on that job, and she drank from the fountain too. She’ll be twenty-seven forever, and her brown eyes turned gold the same as Raider’s. The key difference between Raider and his sister is that Val is happy to date vampires.
Call him vanilla, but Raider prefers sticking his dick in warm-blooded partners.
He also doesn’t want to cling to his youth—ironic, yeah. Raider wants a steadier life than the thrills of treasure hunting, at least for the next few decades. He and Val want to spend more time with their parents. Artifacts, Alchemy, Etc. is also Raider’s chance to provide a more responsible home for all artifacts rescued and returned. He can appraise and identify mysterious items, disable dangerous curses, and buy and sell anything with a verified record.
Except Raider’s nervous about getting stuck in a new rut too. Throwing himself into his new business with the same dangerous intensity as his last job. His reckless work ethic made him the best in the fucking business—okay, Val would dispute that. But it didn’t leave much of him left.
So, Raider needs something besides work. Learn a language. Exercise. Dungeons and Dragons. Or even…
Fuck, he hates when Val is right.
What’s the harm in signing up for a dating app? Raider will either score or not. Maybe he’ll find some casual fun to pass the time until he figures out how to actually date while immortal.
Before he can second-guess himself, Raider crosses his feet on the counter and downloads the HeartHeart app. It installs while Raider flips through his photos for acceptable dating profile pics. He passes over the ones with his sister—despite the family resemblance, someone might misunderstand. He also skips the ones with top-secret mystical artifacts. By the time he picks a couple that aren’t horrible, the app has finished loading.
Raider skims through the intro screens without reading them completely. Standard dating app things. The Valentine’s Day event catches his attention: Let Cupid find your perfect match.
Perfect. The divine cherub can do the work for him.
Blind date vs. chatting first is an easy choice. Raider’s trying to reduce surprises in his life right now. He uploads the photos, then ignores most of the specific profile fields to dump everything in the main description boxes. Starting with the important numbers.
Wants: 35, 6’, 9”, top, looking for casual but not fast. I recently moved to start a new business and could use some new friends, plus or minus benefits. Can I send you random memes throughout the day? My sister is getting tired of the memes, and I need a new victim. Bonus points if you have a great ass.
Don’t want: Someone who likes socializing and clubbing. Someone who needs to be constantly on the move, traveling etc. Someone involved in artifact hunting. I’m serious about my new business, and I’m done with adventures and misadventures alike—though get a few drinks in me and I’ll tell you all the stories. Well. Most of the stories ;)
Raider types it all out in one go and hits match before he can talk himself out of it—right when the front bell rings. Shoving his phone away, he jumps over the counter to let the ritual contractor in.
The evaluation takes all afternoon. The contractor hasn’t even started the security spells by the time Raider shows her out. That will have to be another appointment. A delivery arrives on the contractor’s heels, and Raider spends the rest of the evening setting up the safe box shelves in the basement.
It’s hectic, but a good kind of hectic. Raider’s putting things in place, setting things up. Not breaking things down. He’s feeling good about his progress when he retreats to his upstairs apartment, cracks open a can of beer, and finally remembers the HeartHeart app.
Raider flops onto his leather couch and fishes out his phone. When he opens the app, a congratulatory banner flashes across the screen—Cupid found his perfect, magical match.
When Raider clicks into the profile, his jaw drops. Eyes glued to the phone screen, he sets his beer on the coffee table so he doesn’t drop it too. Because Rune is only the most stunning man Raider has ever seen.
The photo is soft, a selfie taken indoors. Rune’s glossy dark hair falls to his shoulders, framing a soft, narrow face. A spark of fire gleams in the young man’s dark eyes. His sharp collar bones disappear under the neck of his tie-dye shirt. He isn’t smiling—there’s a determined look to his eyes, like he’s concentrating very hard on taking the selfie.
“Well, fuck.”
Raider hadn’t listed “eleven out of ten, sexiest twink alive” as one of his requirements. But that apparently is what Cupid has delivered.
Time to rein in his excitement.
Raider retrieves his beer for a long drag. There’s no way this Rune is completely perfect. With looks like this, there must be another reason Rune is single.
Ready for the red flags, Raider scrolls to the profile information. Rune left most of the fields—age, location, profession—blank too, all his details in the same want and don’t want fields.
Wants: Someone with a sense of humor, easy to talk to. I’m alone a lot, and having someone to chat with would be nice. I like learning about people, and I’d love to hear about your job and your weather and your regular day. As for anything romantic, I don’t know. I would want someone very patient. I’ve never done anything like this before. I hope I’m not asking for too much.
Don’t want: Meeting in person.
Okay, starting with how alone Rune is counts as a yellow flag, minimum. But there’s a sense of na?ve honesty to the description. Raider definitely believes Rune has never used a dating app before, because there’s nothing about hiking or dogs or craft beer.
Still, Raider can handle yellow flags. The main disappointment is not wanting to meet in person. Even though Raider said he was okay with just friends—Cupid wasn’t supposed to believe that.
But Raider puts that aside when the inbox blinks. Clicking in, he finds a pile of unread messages. The first came hours ago, right after the contractor arrived.
Rune: Cupid says we’re matches, and that I should say hello. Hello!
The second arrived half an hour later.
Rune: You must be busy. Your information says you’re starting a business. That sounds really cool!
Rune: I don’t know if I’m actually a good match for you. I don’t remember ever doing anything interesting. So, I understand if you don’t want to talk with me. I’m probably pretty boring.
Rune: I’ve just looked that up, and self-deprecation is not recommended for dating conversations. I’m sorry.
Rune: I am boring, but I don’t mean that as self-deprecation. That’s just how it is, and it doesn’t bother me. I hope it doesn’t bother you.
Rune: I’ve sent you too many messages. I’m sorry. I’ll delete some of them.
There’s another hour-long gap.
Rune: I don’t know how to delete them.
Rune: I’m sorry. I don’t know how to do any of this. I don’t know why I thought it would work. I’m probably not what you want. I don’t even think I have a great ass. I hope you’re having a great day, and that your business is going really well.
Raider can’t help it. The corner of his mouth lifts. Adorable, nervous, earnest. This guy is absolutely not what Val wanted him to go for—but Raider can’t help it. He loves a project.
So, Raider takes another swig of beer and taps a reply.