"Just one more moment…"
I dove back in with my makeup brushes, my scissors, my hairspray… My many tools of the trade rotated through my hands like they were part of me. I never went anywhere without them, and I'd been using them for so long that they may as well have been extensions of my body.
My canvas wiggled anxiously in her seat. "Is it almost done?" She asked, her voice tinged with excitement.
I smiled brightly. "Almost, but not yet. Patience, my dear."
She gave a nod, just a slight one to avoid moving too much, then went quiet as I returned to my work. This particular client had booked me months ago, and she was as giddy as a child on Christmas when she walked into my studio. It was obvious she had been looking forward to this appointment for quite some time.
And who could blame her? I was only Fabian, one of the most famous and sought out makeup artists in the world.
After a bit more settling, I stepped back to observe her. She was utterly transformed from how she looked when she first arrived, and she looked stunning, but there was still something missing.
"Hmm..."
"Is something wrong, Sir?" She asked.
I smiled to reassure her. "No, not at all. A painter needs to step back and review his work once in a while, yes? And please, no need to call me sir."
The girl sat with her back to the mirror so she couldn't yet see her appearance. I liked my transformations to be a surprise. Of course, that didn't mean I didn't take my client's wishes into account when I began my work. Sometimes my clients would supply me with a brief, ideas and aesthetics they wanted me to bring to life. Other times, like this girl, my clients would give me artistic freedom and free reign to do whatever I wished. They were both challenges in their own right, and I never backed down from a challenge.
As I stood there quibbling over my next decision, I could tell my client was getting antsy with excitement. It helped to get clients talking sometimes, so they would focus on telling their story instead of what I was doing.
"You said you are meeting up with your girlfriend this weekend, right?" I asked, twirling the makeup brush in my hand.
She straightened up. "Yeah! I'm so excited to show her the results of this makeover. She's the one who originally introduced me to your work."
Inspiration struck me and I returned to her side to put my brush into action. "Really? That's so sweet."
She giggled. "It's actually a surprise. I told her I was going on a trip to visit my family."
I laughed. "That's so naughty, I love it."
"She probably wouldn't believe me that I was with Fabian anyway. I was so lucky that I managed to snag an appointment before you were booked up!"
I winked at her. "Not luck, my dear. It's fate. Do you believe in fate?"
"I'm not sure." She smiled. "Although now that you mention it, it does have a nice ring to it."
Ah, humans. They never did quite believe in fate the same way we shifters did. Not that it was their fault, of course, but merely a symptom of the way their society functioned. Humans chose their own mates, for better or for worse. I saw the appeal—being the master of your own decisions and all that—but I couldn't deny the romanticism of being destined to be with someone, of the very fabric of our souls being woven together by fate.
I withheld a wistful sigh. I didn't show my age outwardly, that I had been waiting for my fated mate for a very long time. Omegas came and went, and not a single one of them excited me. Even when omega clients sat in my studio chairs and their sweet scents filled the air, I was never once attempted to indulge. I was aware of the fact that I had many omega fans who had crushes on me. It wasn't just omegas, either. Women, men, non-binary people, alphas, omegas, everything in between… I was irresistible to them.
How could I not be? Not to gloat, but I was beautiful and charming. It was my innate allure as a Phoenix shifter.
"I hope it's not rude of me to ask," my client began as I worked, "but do you have a partner? The tabloids are always saying one thing or the other, but I know they're not always true."
I chuckled. "Ah, the tabloids. They always have something to say, don't they? Let me tell you straight from the source, my dear. I am woefully single."
"Woefully?" She laughed. "I bet there're thousands of people who would like to date you."
I winked. "Yes, I'm aware. But I wouldn't want to lead the moment. For the man I'm searching for is a rare breed, one handpicked by fate herself."
I knew my client thought I was just being whimsical, but I was telling her the whole truth. I had no interest in casual dating. I wanted my fated mate, and that was all. Was that too much to ask?
"Well, I hope that happens for you soon," she said warmly. "Being in love is the best feeling in the world."
The happiness on her face was beautiful to see. I truly believe that being in love made people shine from the inside out. And if that was the case, when I finally found my fated mate, I would no doubt be even more beautiful than I currently was.
