Raider won that argument, because Artifacts, Alchemy, Etc. ishisretirement project. Not hers. But Val is much moredetermined about her new crusade: shoving Raider back into the dating scene. She hasn’t shut up about this H2H app, and she’s only gotten more annoying since their Valentine’s Day event rolled out.
“Valentine’s Day is only a month away,” Val said over beers last night. “You need someone to keep you company in your old age. You’re going to turn into a hermit living over your little shop.”
Raider waved at the crowded sports bar around them. “Much pathetic, very hermit.”
Val rolled her eyes. “Hanging out with your cool, awesome sister doesn’t count. I swear, the only way you’re getting laid is if Cupid hand-delivers you a piece of ass.”
“Whatever, Valkyrie,” Raider says. But Val must be getting more mature too, because the use of her full name doesn’t piss her off like it used to. She just smirks like she knows exactly what Raider’s doing.
The worst part is Val’s probably right. Not about the old age thing—Raider is only thirty-five. And he only looks twenty-nine.
Which is the problem. Raider hasn’t indulged in anything more than mindless hookups in six years. Hooking up is easy. Raider’s a confident man, which would be hot enough even if he wasn’t also actually hot. Six foot two, phenomenal tattooed biceps, and piercing golden eyes? Raider’s not really his own type, but he’s obviously a ten.
Serious dating, however, gets complicated with the whole immortality thing.
Drinking from the Fountain of Youth seemed like a good idea at the time. After all the effort needed to find the fountain in the first place, not drinking seemed like a waste. Raiderdoesn’t exactly regret the sip, but he hadn’t thought through the practicalities.
Val understands to an extent. She was right there with him on that job, and she drank from the fountain too. She’ll be twenty-seven forever, and her brown eyes turned gold the same as Raider’s. The key difference between Raider and his sister is that Val is happy to date vampires.
Call him vanilla, but Raider prefers sticking his dick in warm-blooded partners.
He also doesn’t want to cling to his youth—ironic, yeah. Raider wants a steadier life than the thrills of treasure hunting, at least for the next few decades. He and Val want to spend more time with their parents. Artifacts, Alchemy, Etc. is also Raider’s chance to provide a more responsible home for all artifacts rescued and returned. He can appraise and identify mysterious items, disable dangerous curses, and buy and sell anything with a verified record.
Except Raider’s nervous about getting stuck in a new rut too. Throwing himself into his new business with the same dangerous intensity as his last job. His reckless work ethic made him the best in the fucking business—okay, Val would dispute that. But it didn’t leave much ofhimleft.
So, Raider needs something besides work. Learn a language. Exercise. Dungeons and Dragons. Or even…
Fuck, he hates when Val is right.
What’s the harm in signing up for a dating app? Raider will either score or not. Maybe he’ll find some casual fun to pass the time until he figures out how to actually date while immortal.
Before he can second-guess himself, Raider crosses his feet on the counter and downloads the Heart2Heart app. It installs while Raider flips through his photos for acceptable datingprofile pics. He passes over the ones with his sister—despite the family resemblance, someone might misunderstand. He also skips the ones with top-secret mystical artifacts. By the time he picks a couple that aren’t horrible, the app has finished loading.
Raider skims through the intro screens without reading them completely. Standard dating app things. The Valentine’s Day event catches his attention: Let Cupid find your perfect match.
Perfect. The divine cherub can do the work for him.
Blind date vs. chatting first is an easy choice. Raider’s trying toreducesurprises in his life right now. He uploads the photos, then ignores most of the specific profile fields to dump everything in the main description boxes. Starting with the important numbers.
Wants:35, 6’2, 9”, top, looking for casual but not fast. I recently moved to start a new business and could use some new friends, plus or minus benefits. Can I send you random memes throughout the day? My sister is getting tired of the memes, and I need a new victim. Bonus points if you have a great ass.
Don’t want:Someone who likes socializing and clubbing. Someone who needs to be constantly on the move, traveling etc. Someone involved in artifact hunting. I’m serious about my new business, and I’m done with adventures and misadventures alike—though get a few drinks in me and I’ll tell you all the stories. Well. Most of the stories ;)
Raider types it all out in one go and hitsmatchbefore he can talk himself out of it—right when the front bell rings. Shoving his phone away, he jumps over the counter to let the ritual contractor in.
The evaluation takes all afternoon. The contractor hasn’t even started the security spells by the time Raider shows her out. That will have to be another appointment. A delivery arrives on the contractor’s heels, and Raider spends the rest of the evening setting up the safe box shelves in the basement.
It’s hectic, but a good kind of hectic. Raider’s putting things in place, setting things up. Not breaking things down. He’s feeling good about his progress when he retreats to his upstairs apartment, cracks open a can of beer, and finally remembers the Heart2Heart app.
Raider flops onto his leather couch and fishes out his phone. When he opens the app, a congratulatory banner flashes across the screen—Cupid found his perfect, magical match.
When Raider clicks into the profile, his jaw drops. Eyes glued to the phone screen, he sets his beer on the coffee table so he doesn’t drop it too. Because Rune is only the most stunning man Raider has ever seen.
The photo is soft, a selfie taken indoors. Rune’s glossy dark hair falls to his shoulders, framing a soft, narrow face. A spark of fire gleams in the young man’s dark eyes. His sharp collar bones disappear under the neck of his tie-dye shirt. He isn’t smiling—there’s a determined look to his eyes, like he’s concentrating very hard on taking the selfie.
“Well, fuck.”
Raider hadn’t listed “eleven out of ten, sexiest twink alive” as one of his requirements. But that apparently is what Cupid has delivered.
