Page 2 of Unravel Me

"Jared Daniels," I correct him, introducing myself with my biological father’s last name as I shake Storm’s big hand.

Alex's eyes practically bulge with shock when he hears that.

Yeah, I’d rather use the surname of a man who never wanted anything to do with me than the surname of my ex-husband who turned out to be a serial rapist…

The matchmaker’s face breaks into a grin.

"Oh, I guess I’m lucky with that surname," he says, his laugh carrying a hint of arrogance. "Three weeks ago, I found a True Mate for someone with the same last name. He even looked a bit like you. Maybe it’s good fortune?"

Saying this, Storm looks like a puffed-up peacock, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans back slightly against the chair.

‘Oh, I found a True Mate for some other guy.’

Well, great. But can he do it for me?

Not wanting him to start bragging about how many pairs of True Mates he’s already matched, I quickly move the conversation along.

"So. About my case…" I start, and Alex, probably seeing my furrowed brow and determined energy, walks over to me and says, "Jared, I’ll take Tommy to the cafeteria so you two can talk," while holding out his arms for my son.

I nod because it’s a good idea.

Thankfully, Tommy lets Alex take him. My cousin slips out, leaving me at the mercy of… well, fate. After all, this matchmaking agency is called Fate’s Choice.

A bit hesitantly, I sit down in the chair across from Storm Nolan’s desk.

This is the moment.

My throat constricts, and my stomach twists with nerves. My fingers curl around my golden leaf pendant, just as they always do whenever I hope my future is about to change for the better.

Storm’s broad frame looks almost comical behind the tiny desk. Swallowing with some difficulty, I watch him push some papers aside, making room in front of him, then lace his fingers together and turn his attention to me.

His eyes are an unnatural color, seeming to glow faintly with a turquoise, almost phosphorescent sheen, something that looks downright magical. I’m really hoping the things people say about him are true, that he possesses a rare gift that allows him to find someone’s fated mate the moment he looks at them, and that it will work in my peculiar case.

"I desperately need to find my True Mate," I blurt out, but my voice comes out almost squeaky.

Storm's handsome face, like that of a salesman, remains calm, friendly, and expectant.

All this time, I’ve been watched by the silent, young omega sitting on the couch against the wall. My nose tells me he’s mated to Storm, and Storm is mated to him. Their scent leaves no doubt. Alex also gave me his name, Damien. Seeing me glance at him, the omega raises a hand and gives me a little wave. I awkwardly return the gesture. He’s a slightly chubby guy around twenty years of age, and he just… perches there with his fingers laced over his knees, an open curiosity in his gaze.

It’s a bit strange to me that Storm brings his boyfriend to work, but from what Alex told me during our ride here, they’re True Mates, so I guess the law makes an exception for couples like them, treating them as practically inseparable.

"You know," Storm says slowly, drawing out the words, "Plenty of people desperately want to find their fated. The question is whether it's possible for everyone."

Oh-ho! Where did all that cocky confidence go? I can already hear a note of caution slipping into his voice.

My eyes narrow. "I've heard it is for you. You helped four people, correct?"

Something flickers across Storm's face, a hint of nervous fluster, and a stab of unease settles in my chest.

"Yes, well… but you have to understand something," he mutters. "Their cases were very different. My gift works when I actually see two potential mates. I observe their auras, and if they shine with the same color, I know they're meant for each other. But I need to have them in front of me, either in person or at least in a photograph."

My throat is so dry it feels like I have sawdust stuck in it. I try to say something, but nothing comes out.

Seeing that I remain silent, Storm lowers his voice and adds, "The problem is I've never tried to find someone's perfect match without seeing the other person first."

My fingers curl into fists so tightly that my nails dig into my palms, as I try to ease the rising panic. Finally, I force the words out.

"You don't understand… my situation is desperate! My marriage—" The confession catches in my throat, and suddenly it feels impossible to take a full breath. I'm ashamed to say it out loud.