Chapter 2
SELENE
A girl from my work used Kismeet to meet her mate,” Jade—my best friend and most gorgeous gargoyle in the world—says, picking the cheese off her pizza with her jewel-toned green fingers. “It works. Just try it. What’s the worst that can happen?”
Easy for her to say. She met her fated mate, Flint, when she was just fifteen and they’ve been inseparable ever since. I’m happy for them, don’t get me wrong. But when was it going to be my turn? At forty-five, it feels like it was never going to happen for me.
“I’m not sure, Jade.” I dump a healthy shake of garlic powder onto my steaming slice of pizza. “How accurate can an app be that claims to pair you with your fated mate? Get real.”
My favorite pizza place recently switched to a 24-hour business model to accommodate the nocturnal monsters and humans of Nashville, and I couldn’t be more appreciative. When Jade asked if I wanted to hang out, it went without saying that we would grab a pie and an order of garlic bread. We are now chowing down while sitting at my kitchen table in my eclectic studio apartment full of bright colors and local art.
It was one of those days where both of her children are sleeping over at a friend’s house while her husband works a rare day shift. Being nocturnal creatures meant that both Jade and I worked nights, but sometimes our schedules only align in the early morning. It can be inconvenient, but if the only time I can see Jade is when the sun is out, then I’ll take it.
Jade quirks a brow, tossing her long black hair over her shoulder. “But it worked for my coworker, so there must be some merit to it. So, I ask again … what’s the worst that can happen?”
“What if my mate sucks?”
She runs a finger over her spiral horns. “You’re too cool and sweet for the fates to pair you with an asshole.”
My wings twitch as I give the question some thought. She has a point.
“I guess the worst thing then is that I’ve wasted time filling out a profile.”
“Exactly.” Jade nods. “And I’ll even help you fill it out. It might take ten minutes, max. That’s not so bad, right?”
I giggle and pull out my phone, hope bubbling in my chest and making me giddy. Jade and I spend at least five minutes picking out a photo of me. As a mothwoman, I’m very proud of my impressive wingspan, antennae, and chest fluff, colored like that of a Cecropia Silk Moth. It’s best to use a picture that not only shows off my best attributes, but one that doesn’t hide anything from my potential mate. I’m plus-sized, with a soft tummy, and even softer hips and thighs. While I’m not ashamed of my size, I want my mate to have the whole picture of me.
We finally settle on a full-body photo of me outside in my favorite pink dress that compliments my red markings, a large smile on my pale white face, the sun glinting off my long black wavy hair. Once my profile has been submitted, we both stare at my phone, hoping I would immediately be matched with my mate.
“Well,” Jade says after waiting about ten minutes, “as much as I would love to be here when you’re finally matched with your mate, I ate way too much pizza and I’m ready get some sleep.”
“And maybe we’re being too optimistic,” I grumble. “I might not even have a fated mate.”
“I know it’s hard to be patient, Selene. But you need to trust the process,” she encourages.
Once she’s out the door, I let out a deep sigh. I’m thankful that Jade pushed me to sign up for Kismeet, but now my nerves are fried. Picking out a picture, filling out the questionnaire, and getting my hopes up was a lot of excitement for me. And now my insides are a swarm of bees with nowhere to go, itching to escape.
So, I start cleaning my entire apartment. It isn’t even that messy, but I need a distraction. And maybe cleaning will zap all my anxious energy so I can get some rest.
Thank the goddess that as a neon sculpture artist I make my own schedule, so getting to bed on time isn’t exactly imperative, but messing up my sleep schedule still sucks. Besides, my first show at Shadow and Light Gallery is on Wednesday. I need to take care of myself by keeping a routine. Honestly, I shouldn’t have downloaded Kismeet until after my show to keep my anxiety down, but alas, I’m not only a little impatient, but incredibly impulsive.
This show is everything to me. It will make or break my career as an artist. Art has been my passion for as long as I can remember. From playing with paper clay as a child to experimenting with glass blowing as I got older, creating something dimensional has been my one true love. I shouldn’t be letting something like a dating app distract me from the most important show of my life.
But it would be nice to share it with someone. It’s possible for me to be both a successful artist and in love, right?
A pleasant ding emits from my phone. I’ve only heard that sound twice. Once when I downloaded the Kismeet app, and again when I completed my profile.
My heart races as I dive for my phone, fumbling as I rush to unlock it.
And sure enough, my notification banner reads “You’ve Been Matched! 3”
That can only mean one thing … I’ve been matched with who the app says is my fated mate.
Hands shaking and antennae twitching, I tap the notification. Kismeet opens, and I gasp when I see the gorgeous hunk of a human male who stares back at me.
The first thing I notice is that his golden skin is covered in tattoos. I’m talking full sleeves, hands, abdomen, and chest. The photo of him getting inked by a mushroom fae is framed too far back for me to get a good look at all of them except the snake and flowers that span his muscular chest.
His graying hair is slicked back from his handsome face, which is accentuated with a close-cropped salt-and-pepper beard. A slightly crooked nose, as if it has been reset once or twice, gives him a more rugged look. But it’s his intense brown eyes matched with an easy and cocky smile that grab my attention.
Holy shit!
He’s a real panty dropper.
“Caiden Miller,” I murmur out loud, reading his name from his profile, testing it on my tongue.
I like the way it feels.
But anxiety rears her ugly head. Do I message him? Or do I wait for him to message me? Humans and monsters have been co-mingling for centuries now, but fated mates aren’t exactly a part of human culture. Some believe in soul mates, if I recall correctly, but not everyone does. Human belief systems are all over the place.
“Alright, Selene. Quit overthinking this. This man is your mate. No reason to be shy.”
I scan his profile, looking for a conversation starter. Oh. His ideal meal is an Impossible burger?
Excellent. I can work with that.
Selene: Hi, Caiden! My name is Selene! Nice to meet you! I see your favorite meal is an Impossible Burger. I love Impossible burgers myself. Are you a vegetarian too?
Is that too many exclamation marks? Kismeet doesn’t have an edit or an unsend option. Fuck. Well, if he’s really my fated mate, then, hopefully, he’ll find my enthusiasm endearing.
The little circle next to his name indicates that he’s not active. He’s busy. Which is fine by me because I need a break from all the excitement. I’m exhausted. Anxiety always takes such a physical toll on me.
I set my phone to Do Not Disturb and begin my bedtime routine, starting with an intensive teeth care regimen and ending with plaiting my long dark hair into two braids. The entire ritual is very soothing for me.
With a satisfied sigh, I slide between my sheets, careful not to crush my delicate wings. I fluff my pillows then snuggle my face into my favorite plush, a squishy corndog with two perfectly embroidered black eyes. It’s worn from years of use, but I can’t sleep without it.
And maybe by the time I wake up, I’ll have a message from Caiden.