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Nothing.

No sparks.

No magic.

Just me.

Except, for the first time in thirty-eight years, I'm not entirely sure that's true. And when I glance toward the house next door, Damian Leeds is standing on his porch.

Watching me.

Well, this should be interesting.

Prologue 2: Damian

Forty.

I fucking hate that number.

Not because the threat of gray hair, wrinkles, or some ridiculous human notion that turning forty means I should buy a sports car and start questioning my life choices.

I already own several sports cars. And I know exactly where my life went wrong.

I’m a Leeds.

More specifically, I’m a Jersey Devil Shifter who just celebrated his fortieth birthday without finding his promised mate.

Which means I’m running out of time. And quickly, too.

“Grandmother, I’ve tried everything.” I pace across my study, ducking automatically when the tip of my left wing catches the chandelier. “Every Witch. Every matchmaker. Every ridiculous vision quest you’ve sent me on. I’ve traveled halfway around the fucking world. I don’t have a fated mate.”

“Promised,” Grandmother corrects through the phone.

I close my eyes. Of course, she corrects me.

“Fine. A promised one.”

“Well, Damian, I am your grandmother and I am here to tell you that you are wrong. You do have one.”

“Really? Then where the hell is the blasted woman?”

Silence.

“Exactly.”

“Damian Leeds, I refuse to give up on you.”

I stop pacing.

My tail doesn't.

The damned thing whips behind me and knocks a stack of financial reports off my desk. Papers scatter across the floor.

I glare at them. My tail twitches. Like it’s laughing at me.

Asshole.

“Now, boy, you listen to me,” Grandmother continues. “Be open-minded, and don't forget to drink your medicinal tea.”