The Matchmaker's Mark Read Online Free Page A

The Matchmaker's Mark
Book: The Matchmaker's Mark Read Online Free
Author: Regan Black
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arm in the mirror and yelped.
    "What the –" Her birthmark was moving. Shifting. What had once resembled a rather small heart shaped leaf was stretching and sprouting vines toward her elbow. As she watched, two delicate leaves unfolded on the vine.
    She yanked the sweater down over her head and tugged the sleeves into place, hiding the mark. Seeing it only stirred up more questions and sent her mood spiraling downward again. With Cade's imminent arrival, she didn't have time to indulge in research or a pity party.
    After changing into clean jeans and her favorite boots, she brushed out her hair and slicked on lip gloss, but none of the outer treatment altered the facts.
    She'd been told her whole life that her birthmark meant something special. Most called it a matchmaker's mark, though they all had differing versions of why. Though it seemed every person on every branch of her family tree believed she was unique, destined for some great thing, simply because she'd been born with a special mark.
    Ri-ight.
    As a child, she'd bought into the hype, happy for a visible confirmation of the big dreams that filled her heart. Happy for any indicator that she didn't completely lack the magic of her father's people.
    Yet here she was in the beginning of a brand new year, wondering if it wasn't all just a load of crap her family shoveled at her to keep her dreaming. As if her dreams were all that important.
    Her human grandpa had once said they were, but he also said fairies were real and declared more truth existed deep in the poetry of their tales. Ridiculous. No one had seen a fairy in centuries and their tales of mischief were as laughable in this era as they'd been in ages long gone.
    Of course, following that logic, if fairies did still exist somewhere, they probably didn't believe in the elves anymore. She imagined fairies would laugh as long and loud as anyone else if they heard of a wood elf operating a flower shop in a human city.
    Half wood elf and born with a matchmaker's mark to boot. Her birthmark tingled, but she ruthlessly put it out of her mind, blaming the weirdness on her bitter mood.
    Lily pushed away from her frustrated reflection, gathered her coat and headed back downstairs to wait for Cade.
    Oh yes, she'd believed once that her mark meant she was destined for something amazing. Then life had become all too real. Now she was alone with her plants and flowers, surrounded by the bold fragrances of fresh cuts and the earthier green of the plants growing in baskets and pots.
    Henry gave a pitiful cry, drawing Lily's attention to his empty food bowl. "Oh, right." She went to the back room and filled his bowl. Returning it to his place by her work sink, she smiled at him. "There you go, your royal highness." Her brother had had a cat for as long as she could remember, always an orange tabby and always named Henry for the addictive song Henry the Eighth.
    She watched the cat, wondering if he was indeed the eighth Henry in the long line of Henrys. As she hummed the silly song, her mind drifted to long ago dreams and hopes. As if in reply, the stupid birthmark tingled again.
    She refused to look. If she was meant for some special purpose on the elf side of her heritage, the Matchmaker would've shown up by now. Instead she was picking cat hair out of her lip gloss while she waited like a child for the babysitter. Exactly what horrible tragedy her family thought would befall her if they didn't check in regularly had never been explained to her.
    Her stomach rumbled and she slid into her sweater coat, buttoning the oversized toggles so she'd be ready to go. Drawing her long, honey blonde hair – another distinction from her dark-headed elf family – out of her collar, she waited, fiddling with the keys in her pocket.
    Henry meowed. Lily sighed. Would Cade never get here? She needed a distraction, or at least the assurance he wouldn't arrive if she started a little research.
    The old folk-tales were too far removed from her
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