At the idea of letting something—someone—decide who I’m meant to be with.
My Tiger stirs.
Not interested.
Not invested.
Just aware.
Behind me, someone snorts.
It’s Reg.
The jerkwad.
My annoyingly happy brother strolls over, his mate tucked under his arm like she belongs there.
“Hi, Uncle Uzzi. Welcome! So, what’s going on here?”
“Hello, Reg, Gretchen,” the old man says and smiles. “Just telling Rob here about Date to Mate, but he’s declining my services.”
“What? Come on, Rob,” Reg says. “You should hear him out.”
“Yeah, Uncle Uzzi is amazing,” Gretchen adds.
Nothing against my brother’s mate, but I beg to differ. See, in my experience Witches aren’t to be trusted.
And this one?
He looks iffy to me.
“Sorry, but uh, I don’t need love.”
My Tiger huffs.
Liar.
Everyone just stares.
So, I repeat myself.
“I’m not looking for a mate.”
“But what if I already found her?’ the old man asks.
“No thanks. I just don’t believe in fate.”
Hunter folds his arms, clearly enjoying this.
Uzzi tilts his head like he’s examining a particularly stubborn puzzle.
“Ah,” he murmurs. “Yes. Classic resistance. Very common with Tigers.”
“I’m not resistant,” I say. “I’m realistic.”
“Of course you are, Liebling.”
Then he pulls out his phone.
