Page 4 of Howling Mad
A wave of hunger reminds me that the burned eggs aren’t enough to keep me fueled.A glance at my watch shows I have time to treat myself to a celebratory meal.The corner café beckons, so I slip inside, ordering a wrap and a fresh coffee.The moment the first savory bite hits my tongue, relief and excitement combine in my bloodstream.
Yes, the city has its challenges, and I still have boxes to unpack.My parents are probably drafting a meltdown response, but I can handle it.This place, for all its unknowns, feels more like home than any pack gathering I’ve ever attended.
A small corner table opens up, and I slide into the seat, letting the coffee’s steam warm my face.I try to imagine what tomorrow brings.I see me, behind the desk at Romance Expected, meeting clients, asking them about their hopes, their heartbreaks, their fur color, and their shifting quirks.Possibly digging into the reasons they haven’t found acceptance in standard pack or clan structures.My heart clenches with empathy.
I get it.Being the odd one out feels like an endless uphill climb.My parents never outright rejected me, but they loaded me with constant suggestions to fix what they saw as flaws.“Why don’t you run more?Train your wolf.Grow your hair out so you look more feminine.Don’t speak so brashly.”Even now, my mother acts like I must be incompetent to find my own partner.Tomorrow is an official chance to prove I can do more than submit to those forced setups and be more than the inferior wolf they see.
After finishing the wrap, I toss the trash, grin at the barista, and step back into the bright day.There’s an upbeat bounce to my walk.Everyone’s trying to match me up, but I’ll do the matching from here on out.That small irony makes me laugh out loud as I push open the door to my apartment building.
In the elevator, I stare at the stack of forms Red gave me.The print is friendly, peppered with silly disclaimers about “possible mid-date partial transformations” and “privacy regarding species-specific cultural rituals.”My grin widens.This is so far from any job I’ve had.It’s a bold new world of romance for shifters who want something different.It’s perfect for me because I need something different.It’s a match made in heaven.The pun makes me chuckle to myself, but this time, no one is around to give me a funny look.
Chapter 2
Finley
ThefirstweekatRomance Expected feels like I’ve been tossed into a circus ring with a unicycle and no instruction manual.My desk is buried under a teetering stack of questionnaires, held together by a single, overstretched rubber band that’s one wrong move from snapping.Red dropped them off with a grin and a cheery, “Welcome to the team,” before vanishing, as if this paper avalanche is her version of a hazing ritual.I’m not sure she’s wrong.
I shift in my creaky chair and eye the top form.It’s got a line for “species,” followed by a dizzying list of sub-questions about shifting triggers, fur allergies, and hybrid disclaimers.This is no ordinary dating agency.Half our clients can turn into creatures straight out of a fantasy novel, and the other half probably wish they could.I’m still adjusting to the fact that a red panda in a caftan climbing bookshelves is just another Tuesday here.
Despite the paperwork threatening to bury me, a grin creeps onto my face.Yesterday, I was sweating over a coffee-stained résumé, dreading the idea of slinking back to my pack, tail between my legs.Now, I’m an assistant at a shifter dating agency, and it’s already more thrilling than any job I’ve had.I trace the edges of the top questionnaire to steady my nerves.This place might just be my perfect fit.
The desk phone shrieks, nearly sending the paper tower crashing.My heart does a jittery flip, but I take a breath and answer with the polite line I remember Red using when I first called to schedule an interview, just swapping in my name.“Romance Expected, Finley speaking.”
A chipper voice replies.“Hi, I didn’t know there was a new assistant.I’m Clarissa, half-cougar, half-leopard.The system keeps listing me as half-lizard, which is rude.Can you confirm my appointment with Red?”
I fumble with the ancient scheduling software, which looks like it was designed for a nineties arcade game.Clarissa’s name pops up with a note in all caps: COUGAR/LEOPARD, NOT LIZARD.“You’re set for Tuesday at three.I’ll fix the lizard glitch.”
“Thanks!”The line goes dead.
I squint at the screen’s chaotic color-coding, thinking I have the hang of it, sort of.Green is for wolves, orange for big cats, blue for bears, and rainbow for exotics.Clarissa’s name blinks in an orange-lime swirl, marking her hybrid status.So, this is my life now.Sorting through a zoo of romantic hopes and hilarious mix-ups.
Red sweeps in, balancing a tray of steaming coffee cups.“I grabbed these from downstairs,” she says, nudging aside a memo about confidentiality to set down the tray.“They’re pretentious, but their cappuccinos are divine.”
I grab a cup, grateful.“You’re saving me from eating that rubber band in a hunger-fueled haze.”
She laughs, eyeing the questionnaire stack.“Not too overwhelmed, I hope?”
I sip the coffee, which is leagues better than my usual burnt toast.“It’s the weirdest data entry I’ve ever done but also the best.These forms are like reading people’s diaries.”
Red raises her brows.“We do get personal.Gotta know if someone’s allergic to fur before they’re swapping spit on date three.”She heads for her office but pauses.“When you’ve got a sec, come see me.I’ve got something special for you.”
Curiosity prickles as she disappears.I gulp my coffee, muster some courage, and follow her into her office, the dazzling cave of red panda knickknacks and her Polaroid board labeled SUCCESSFUL MATCH.She’s rifling through a filing cabinet, her lips pursed, until she pulls out a manila folder and hands it to me with a mischievous glint.“This is for you.”
The label reads “Michael Thornton (Wolf).”I blink, confused.“A client?”
“Yup,” she says, grinning.“He’s a wolf shifter we’ve been trying to match for ages with no luck.I want you to be his primary consultant.”
“Me?”I squeak.“I’m still figuring out which color is for badgers.Isn’t this a lot for week one?”
She shrugs.“I’ve got a hunch you’ll nail it.Michael’s the son of a beta in a traditional pack, but he’s a corporate finance guy, who sips artisanal tea.The wolves we paired him with wanted a rugged alpha who wrestles bears.He’s more about stock portfolios.”
I clutch the folder.“So, they think he’s too tame?”
“Pretty much.”Red leans against her desk.“He’s charming and educated, but every date’s been a flop.Mismatched expectations, mostly.”
I wince, flipping open the folder.A black-and-white photo shows a tall man in a sharp suit, exuding quiet confidence.A note mentions he likes “stargazing in remote locales,” which I find oddly endearing.“Okay, I’ll try to find him a match.”
Red chuckles.“Check the last page.”
