Page 1 of Swipe Right on the Alpha (Fur Real Love #1)
“And that, my faithful disaster witnesses, concludes the saga of Hot Yoga Guy, who—plot twist—turned out to be married… to his yoga studio. I’m pretty sure he attempted to seduce me with tantric breathing techniques, which might have worked if he hadn’t called out his business’s tax ID number during climax. ”
He read through the flood of comments racing up his screen:
“OMG AIDEN YOUR DATING LIFE IS MY THERAPY”
“how are you still single tho???”
“I volunteer as tribute to be your next disaster!”
Aiden smirked, running a hand through his artfully tousled brown hair.
“And that’s why we drink on Thursdays, folks.
Dating disaster number—what are we at now?
—seventy-three? Seventy-four? Anyway, same time next week when I’ll tell you about whoever disappoints me next!
Peace, love, and better dating choices than mine! ”
He ended the stream and flopped back against his pillows with a dramatic sigh.
The carefully curated persona fell away instantly as he stared at his ceiling.
What had started three years ago as a cathartic way to process a devastating breakup had somehow morphed into a lucrative career of professional dating disasters.
The problem? He was starting to wonder if he was manifesting his own bad luck.
Another night, another dating horror story, another sponsored post opportunity for whatever miracle hangover cure slides into my DMs tomorrow, Aiden thought, reaching for the half-empty wine glass on his nightstand.
His phone pinged with a text from Mason, his roommate and best friend since college:
MASON: Just watched your live. Yoga guy really said his TAX ID?
AIDEN: I wish I was creative enough to make this shit up
MASON: Maybe stop finding dates at specialty fitness studios?
AIDEN: But that’s where the abs live, Mason
MASON: Have you tried that new dating app everyone’s talking about? Luna something?
AIDEN: Because apps have worked SO well for me before
MASON: This one’s different. Super exclusive. Matches based on “cosmic compatibility” or some shit
Aiden snorted but found himself opening the App Store anyway. Three more sips of wine later, he was downloading “LunaLove” – the sleek interface featuring a stylized moon and the tagline “Find Your Perfect Mate Under the Same Moon.”
Perfect mate? I’d settle for ‘doesn’t have a secret family’ or ‘can maintain eye contact instead of staring at my follower count’, he thought.
The app opened with an unusually elegant animation of a moon phase cycle before prompting him to create a profile. Aiden’s eyebrows rose progressively higher as he scrolled through the strangely specific questions:
“How do you feel about the full moon?”
? Energized
? Restless
? Primal
? Whatever, it’s just a moon
He tapped the last option.
“Do you prefer partners who are:
? Fiercely loyal
? Independent
? Protective
? Territorial”
What kind of dating preferences are these? Aiden wondered, randomly selecting options while taking another swig of wine.
“What’s your preferred night activity?”
? Hunting
? Prowling
? Running under moonlight
? Netflix
“Is this a dating app or a questionnaire for wilderness survival camp?” he muttered, selecting Netflix with an eye roll.
The final question made him pause:
“Do you believe in fated mates?”
? Yes
? No
? I’m open to being convinced
After a moment’s hesitation, his finger hovered over “No” before switching to “I’m open to being convinced.”
Drunk me is apparently more romantic than sober me. Fabulous.
He uploaded his most flattering photos (the thirst trap from his verified Instagram, a candid laughing shot from a friend’s wedding, one showing his full-sleeve tattoo, and a carefully posed hiking picture that suggested he enjoyed outdoors activities way more than he actually did).
The app processed his information with another moon animation before a message appeared:
“Welcome to LunaLove, Aiden. The stars have aligned. Your perfect mate awaits. We’ll notify you when the moon reveals your match.”
“Whatever, moon app,” Aiden murmured, tossing his phone aside and settling deeper into his pillows. “Surprise me.”
* * *
Fifteen miles away, in a rustic cabin at the forest’s edge, Dylan Silverwood paced the length of his living room, the wooden floorboards creaking beneath his heavy footsteps.
At 6’3” with shoulders broad enough to fill any doorframe, movement in the modest space resembled a caged predator prowling its confines.
“This is ridiculous,” he growled, amber eyes flashing as he glared at his packmate sprawled comfortably on his couch.
Theo, his beta and lifelong friend, didn’t bother looking up from his phone. “The pack elders are on your ass about finding a mate. You’ve turned down every eligible wolf they’ve introduced you to. This app is your last resort before they start with the arranged mating ceremonies.”
Dylan’s lip curled slightly, revealing teeth just a bit too sharp for a human. “A dating app for supernatural creatures. What could possibly go wrong?”
“LunaLove has a 98% mate-match success rate,” Theo replied, finally looking up. “All the young packs are using it. It’s how Ramirez found his vampire mate.”
“And that’s going well, is it?” Dylan’s voice dripped with sarcasm.
“They’re working through the blood-drinking thing,” Theo shrugged. “Point is, the app works. It’s got some kind of ancient magic algorithm.”
Dylan ran a hand through his dark hair, frustration evident in every line of his powerful body. At thirty-two, he was in his prime as an alpha, but the pressure to find a mate grew with each passing moon. His wolf was restless, craving its other half.
“Fine,” he finally muttered, snatching the phone from Theo’s outstretched hand. “But when this fails spectacularly, you’re the one explaining to the elders.”
He grudgingly filled out the profile, answering questions about territory preferences, hunting styles, and pack dynamics.
When prompted for photos, he awkwardly uploaded the few non-blurry pictures he had—mostly outdoor shots where his muscular build was evident even beneath casual clothes, his intense gaze captured despite his discomfort with cameras.
“There,” he said, tossing the phone back to Theo. “Happy now?”
The app pinged immediately, causing both werewolves to freeze.
“That was fast,” Theo said, his eyes widening as he looked at the screen. “Dude, you already have a match! That never happens!”
Dylan’s nostrils flared slightly, a primal response he couldn’t control. “What?”
Theo turned the phone to show a profile. “Aiden Reynolds. Human, looks like. Cute in that city-boy way. Says here he’s a ‘content creator,’ whatever that means.”
Dylan took the phone, something stirring deep in his chest as he studied the man’s photos. Green eyes that sparked with mischief. A smile that hinted at secrets. Something about him called to Dylan’s wolf in a way he’d never experienced.
“He’s… interesting,” Dylan managed, trying to sound neutral while his inner wolf was practically howling.
Theo smirked knowingly. “App says you’re 99.8% compatible. That’s the highest I’ve ever seen.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Must be fate.”
Dylan tried to appear nonchalant as he swiped through Aiden’s profile again. “I’ll message him tomorrow.”
That night, Dylan dreamed of green eyes and a laugh that echoed through the forest. He woke tangled in sheets, his body hard and aching, the scent of an unknown mate lingering in his senses despite never having met the man.
His wolf knew. Somehow, his wolf already knew.