4 Then say the words “I, Danika Starbourne, accept you, Orion Thalos, as my fated mate.”
5 Those words and that acceptance of the bond will provide enough fuel for the portal to open wide enough that more than a letter can pass through. The bond will pull you straight to me. You will be able to walk through a rip in time and space and directly into my arms.
That is all. It requires no effort. It is not difficult. And yet here I sit, still stranded on the other side of the cosmos, waiting for my future queen to act. I have already done my part. Can’t you feel it? The bond is a living force, a two-way current. Yet this last zenith I felt it dimming, as though you are willfully pushing me away. As though you are rejecting what is between us.
You are resisting something that is already a part of you. Do you understand what you are refusing?
The moment you accept the bond, you will no longer be confined to that dismal little planet. You will no longer suffer the monotony of mortal existence. Here, you will live in the lap of luxury, doted on by our subjects, revered as a queen. Your every need will be met before you realize you have it. I will see to that personally.
And, Danika, let us not pretend I am the only one suffering from this delay.
I have been patient. I have been restrained. I am not accustomed to such denial.
You should understand something about fated mates: We do not ease into one another as casual lovers do. We do not tease, or hesitate, or delay. The bond demands consummation. When I arrive, you will need to be prepared to receive me in all ways.
So accept the bond. Now. Say the words and come to me.
I expect you will not make me wait any longer.
Orion Thalos
Crown Prince of Frosthelm
Your Fated Mate
Danika Starbourne
High Ridge Observatory
17488 Starview Trail
Mount Palomar, CA 92060
To “Orion Frosthelm” (or whoever the hell you are),
I don’t know what kind of game you think you’re playing, but let me make something very clear—leave me out of it.
At first, I thought this was from the old man at the other end of the compound, but the police informed me that he had passed away, and while I was in town I found his death certificate in the county archives.
I’m not entirely convinced this isn’t some elaborate, pathetic attempt from Matt to get my attention again. Honestly, it would be just like him, wouldn’t it? If this is him, then let me say this once and for all:
Matt, I dumped you for a reason. Several, actually. You were bad in bed. You were cheating on me. And worst of all? I didn’t even care.
Not really.
By the time I found out, I was already gone. Numb. Checked out. There wasn’t a single tear. Not even rage. Just this heavy, dull silence inside me. Not because of what you did. It’s always been like that with me and the guys I’ve dated.
No one’s ever reached me. Not in that deep, curled-up-inside-my-bones kind of way I read about in books and see in movies. Not the way my parents love each other. Or the way my friend Libby’s parents would just sit and gaze at each other. I’m not sure if we lucked out seeing true manifestations of love, or if it cursed us with high expectations for the mediocre guys we’d meet in our lives. I’ll probably end up living with her and a herd of cats. Which doesn’t depress me.
I get more joy out of my vibrator and my own fantasies than I ever did with a man. At least my toys don’t talk over me, don’t need validation, don’t lie. And if I wanted something different, something better, I could just order a new one online. No emotional damage, no drama. Just batteries and bliss.
So if this is Matt, marry Bebe. Don’t marry Bebe. I do not care. Just leave me the hell out of it.
And if this isn’t Matt—if I’m actually receiving unsolicited soulmate proclamations from a complete stranger, then let me be even clearer. I. Am. Not. Interested. I don’t know who you are or how you got my address, but I don’t need a man. I don’t need a cosmic mate. Or soul mate. Or whatever.
I don’t need some overbearing, arrogant weirdo interrupting my career with ridiculous demands to accept our bond and pledge my eternal devotion.
I have real things to focus on. My work is what matters. Not you.
