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He was immaculately dressed in a suit that probably cost more than my old cottage on pack grounds, dark hair swept back from a face that was almost too perfect to be real. His eyes, a shade of blue so deep they appeared almost black, scanned the room with cool detachment.

Until they landed on me.

Something flickered in those depths—recognition, interest, calculation. He changed course, moving toward my desk with measured strides.

"Juniper," he said, voice smooth as aged whiskey. "What a pleasant surprise."

I straightened in my chair.

"Pride. I didn't realize you were visiting today. You know, I do happen to work here. It’s more surprising to see you in this office than it is me. What brings you in?"

"A spontaneous decision." His gaze traveled over me, lingering just long enough to make heat rise to my cheeks. "You look...different today. More vibrant."

There was something unsettling about his scrutiny, as if he could see beneath my skin to the changes within. Could he tell what I'd done with Lust?

"New blouse," I deflected, gesturing vaguely at my outfit.

His lips curved into a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "It suits you."

Before I could respond, Lust appeared at Pride's shoulder.

"Brother. To what do we owe the honor...again?" His tone was light, but I caught the undercurrent of tension.

Pride turned, his expression cooling several degrees. "Family business. A few minutes of your time, if you can spare it."

"For you? Always." Lust's sarcasm was subtle but unmistakable. He glanced at me, a silent message in his eyes that I couldn't quite decipher. Protection? Warning?

Pride nodded, then returned his attention to me. "We should continue our conversation soon. There's much more to discuss about your...unique situation."

The way he said it made my stomach clench—as if I were a curiosity, a specimen he'd created and now wanted to examine more closely. As if reanimating me gave him some claim to my time, my attention. My body. But his eyes said something else. Something softer. Something I don’t want to allow myself to think too much about.

I should be grateful he brought me back. I knew that. But it was hard not to feel like it was just another decision made for me, another choice I'd never been given a say in.

"Perhaps," I said, neither agreeing nor refusing.

Amusement flickered across his face. He turned to follow Lust, but not before I caught the possessive glance he cast back at me.

When the door to Lust's office closed behind them, I took a deep breath to calm my nerves.

I returned to my work, but couldn't focus. My mind kept returning to Pride's words: "your unique situation." As if dying and being brought back was just some interesting condition to be discussed over coffee.

I was more than an experiment. More than a curiosity. More than whatever he thought I was.

An idea sparked, so sudden and perfect I nearly laughed out loud. I was a matchmaker at a supernatural dating agency. I had access to the kinds of people who could make an evening truly memorable—and not in a good way.

What if, instead of avoiding Pride, I arranged for him to have a date? Not with me, of course. But with someone perfectly calculated to drive him insane for an entire evening? A sort of revenge.

The more I thought about it, the more delicious the plan became. Pride clearly thought highly of himself. He'd expect an evening of adoration, intellectual stimulation, or at the very least, respectful deference. What if instead he got...the opposite of everything he valued?

I began mentally sorting through our client database. We had a few candidates who would be perfect—beings who were lovely in their own way but possessed habits or qualities that would drive someone like Pride to distraction. Someone who talked incessantly about themselves. Someone who chewed with their mouth open. Someone who asked deeply personal questions without regard for boundaries.

The possibilities were endless, and surprisingly satisfying to contemplate.

I was still plotting when the door to Lust's office opened, and the brothers emerged. They stood a bit too stiffly, their expressions a bit too controlled. Whatever "family business" they'd discussed hadn't gone well.

Pride gave a curt nod to his brother, then turned to leave. This was my chance. If I didn't act now, I'd lose my nerve.

I stood, calling out just as he reached the door.