Page 38 of Fated to Monsters

And I’m convinced that anyone who ever meets him would think the same thing.

I pace the space Sydney left us in but pause when I hear faint conversation from inside.

“Can you send them through processing, Syd? I don’t really have time today.” Her sweet voice floats out toward me.

I swallow down the unease at her not wanting to see us.

“This one’s different Wills.”

The nickname he has for her brings the corners of my lips up faintly.

Papers shuffle and she sighs. “How so?”

“Just let me introduce you to her, and then we can go from there. Five minutes, that’s all I’m asking.”

“This is very unlike you, Syd.” She pauses for a brief second. “Come here, I want a kiss first, then I’ll meet this mystery girl of yours.”

I wait patiently outside the room for them to do what they need to do, my stomach growing wild with the realization that I'm seconds away from seeing her face-to-face.

My relative. My kin. My blood.

The door swings open, and I take a hurried step back.

Sydney’s face greets me. “Come on in.” He motions for me to enter. “Dash, you can come, too.”

Willow, at least who I assume is Willow, stands from behind a large desk, her smile soft and her features delicate but somehow also sharp and etched like the angels themselves took extra caution bringing her to life. Her nearly white hair, with a long strip of black down one side, billows in subtle curls over her shoulders and falls the length of her elbow.

Automatically, I’m drawn to her, my chest pulling and tugging me toward this woman I’ve only just laid eyes on.

She raises her brow and shifts her focus on Sydney before focusing back on me. “Willow Oliver,” she steps around her desk, walks toward me like she’s gliding across the floor, and extends her hand. “And you are?”

I blink and blink again, my heart stuttering but my arm inching up and sliding my hand into hers. “Wren…Wren Oliver.”

The second our skin touches, a sort of current zaps me, but not painfully. I suck in a breath and meet her gaze. “Is that normal?”

Willow releases me and reaches toward Dash. “Only sometimes.”

“I’m Dash,” he says. “Just Dash.”

She shakes hands with him, too. Willow holds on a bit longer and narrows her gaze. “It’s kind of my job to know what type of supernatural creature people are but I’m drawing a blank with you. You’re not human.”

“No, ma’am.” Dash plasters on his typical Dash politeness. “I’m a phoenix.”

“A phoenix,” she repeats. “Interesting.” Willow shifts her attention between us.

“I told you,” Sydney says from his spot off to the side.

Willow grins at him. "Such the know it all." She nods toward the far corner of the room. "Perhaps our guests would like something to drink."

Sydney goes over without question. “Coffee, tea, water?” He pauses before adding. “I could run to the main kitchen if you’d like juice or something else.”

"Coffee is fine," I mutter and look at Dash.

“Same.”

Willow motions toward a sitting area in her large office. A long couch lines the wall with two plush chairs opposite of it. A table with a few books rests on top, along with a pot filled with flowers with tiny petals.

I settle onto the couch with Dash at my side.

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