The vintage hair scarf tied in the fashion of a Hollywood starlet doesn’t hide themovementof my affliction.
Grace thinking I need a glamour in the meantime tells me that she doesn’t think this is going to be an easy fix. I hadn’t wanted to pick apart her hypothesis for breaking the curse. I should have asked more questions.
“Um, well… Grace picked up some details from the book that did this, and she thinks that a way to break the spell is to find my mate.” My cheeks burn. “Or… find pleasure on a serpent’s tongue.”
Whatever the fuck that meant.
“Ah.” Rose’s confusion clears. “So, you came to me to find you your mate, or pleasure presumably with a serpent kin.”
“The book is serpent kin in origin,” I say, as if this term isn’t hours old in my vocabulary. “According to Grace.”
“I see,” Rose says. She bites her lip in consideration. “How do you feel about either of those options?”
How do I feel? That’s a can of worms I don’t want to pry open, but the matchmaker asked…
“I don’t usually have casual sex. A-assuming that’s what’s meant by finding pleasure with.” My shyness means that for me to be sexual with someone, I need to get to know them first. Not that I’d been doing any of that for a long time. If I’m not working, which is what takes up most of my time, I’m hanging out with Grace or my mom.
Dating is such a drag.
And the fear that my date is a werewolf in disguise is something entirely new added to the experience.
“But… if it solves this…” I start.Can I do casual sex if it means getting rid of this curse?
Rose waves a hand to cut me off. “No one wants you to do something you don’t want to or that will make you uncomfortable. Not me and not anyone you match with.”
Right. That makes sense. Some worry ebbs away with Rose’s direct verdict, but that leaves…
“Are you wanting a mate?” the matchmaker asks.
1
JASPER
ONE DAY PRIOR
“Yes?”I ask without looking up.
Agnes’s disapproving gaze burns the crown of my head. If the woman were a paranormal being, her glare would undoubtedly be deadly.
Much deadlier than mine anyway.
“The Owens called wanting to set a date for their party.”
I look up and no matter her steel spine, Agnes flinches. The effect is regrettable. It would be much easier to handle donors and their ridiculous requests if my very presence didn’t cause an instinctual wariness.
But there is no way around being what I am.
“Are they still wanting the whole first floor?” I ask.
“Yes.” Her answer reflects the annoyance I feel. This library is a joint organization of the city and the Council that governs the paranormal world. I’m told the building is beautiful and that it’s quite the brag to be able to host events here. A brag that is worth upping the already considerable donations that sustain this library.
The beautiful building is aged and always in need of repairs. The majority of the funds go to managing the invaluable collections we handle, but all the safety wards in the world will not help if the building falls down around our ears.
Until I can squeeze blood from the stone that is the Council’s pocketbook, money from donors is essential to being able to run the library.
I massage the bridge of my nose.
But to close the first floor doesn’t cover what they are asking for and Agnes knows it. For the type of party they are organizing, it would require closing the whole building to the public since there would be no way to access the study rooms and stacks. The library is a bustling place for casual visitors, students, and traveling academics advising on the items we carry.