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    Not Your True Love, But Your True Love
    Not Your True Love, But Your True Love
    Not Your True Love, But Your True Love
    Ebook53 pages49 minutes

    Not Your True Love, But Your True Love

    By R. Cooper

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    About this ebook

    After a curse gone awry has turned him (more or less) into a cat, Melchior Duban’s devoted assistant calls in Scarlett Waterhouse, Mel’s rival in the mage-for-hire business, to help. Well, Mel thought they were rivals, or at least competitors, despite his admiration for Scarlett’s skills and insight. But he’s never been good with people—it’s how he wound up cursed in the first place—and it takes Scarlett’s cheerful assistance for him to realize that the two of them might actually be friends.

    Scarlett uses magic differently from Mel, and thinks differently than Mel, and yet Mel, who is particular and reticent, doesn’t mind. He has even come to like her more intuitive style, something he’s never had to think about before. But now they are alone in his giant, magical library, collaborating on finding a cure to Mel’s problem—any cure but the old standby, the cliché so many mages use to end their spells, the unquantifiable and confusing notion of True Love’s Kiss, and Scarlett seems to be all he can think of.

    But true love, even if it were real, which it isn’t, isn’t precise, and it’s not definable, and Mel has no interest in it. All he cares about is his studies and his work, his family and his loyal assistant... and Scarlett. Now, if he wants to be himself again, he has to think about that, and what something as nonsensical as True Love’s Kiss might mean for someone like him.

    A queer romance for the unromantic. M/trans f

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherR. Cooper
    Release dateNov 1, 2020
    ISBN9781005677350
    Not Your True Love, But Your True Love
    Author

    R. Cooper

    I'm a somewhat absentminded, often distracted, writer of queer romance. I'm probably most known for the Being(s) in Love series and the occasional story about witches or firefighters in love. Also known as, "Ah, yes, the one with the dragons."You can find me on in the usual places, or subscribe to my newsletter (link through website).www.riscooper.comI can also be found at...Tumblr @sweetfirebirdFacebook @thealmightyrisInstagram @riscoopsPillowfort @RCooperPatreon @ patreon.com/rcoopsBluesky @ rcooper.bsky.social

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      Book preview

      Not Your True Love, But Your True Love - R. Cooper

      Not Your True Love, But Your True Love

      R. Cooper

      Copyright © 2020

      All Rights Reserved

      Content tags: consumption of alcohol, mention of abusive/stalkerish behavior

      Author’s Note: Every year I try to write a small something for my birthday for everyone, if I can. These stories are meant to be fun for me, without stress, which means they are free for you but also unedited. If the typos or imprecise use of language bother you, you are free to hit the back button. But please try to take these free little stories in the spirit with which they were made and just enjoy them.

      Mathilde’s voice carried easily up to Mel despite the three levels of the library currently between them. Mel, can you come down, please?

      The acoustics of the library were the work of one of Mel’s great-uncles. The expanding levels, sometimes three, sometimes four, were of uncertain origin. It was possible the library itself had done it. Buildings absorbed energies over time, magic included.

      Mel looked up from the pile of opened books before him and was about to answer when another voice made its way to his roost.

      You hiding up there, Mel? The familiar, but unexpected, voice had Mel tense in an instant. You’ve had Mathilde digitizing your family’s records for years now. You could have looked up what you wanted from down here.

      Absolutely not! Mel shouted back—as much as he was currently able to shout. The sound that floated down to the ground floor was more like a small, tinny echo of his voice, but the library ensured it reached its destination.

      Ignoring his visitor, Mel focused on his assistant. Mathilde, I did not tell you I needed help!

      He jumped to his feet, or rather, jumped to a standing position but remained as he had been before, levitating slightly above the floor. He moved toward the spiral staircase out of habit, although he could have taken the antique birdcage lift or simply floated gently downward. Taking the stairs allowed him to delay the inevitable.

      Mathilde coughed. Of course, you didn’t. But I figured it was time—unless you no longer want to keep your dignity?

      She asked it lightly, but pointedly, and Mel stopped, all four of his padded feet hovering above one wrought-iron step. He had found that he did not care for the sensation of walking in this body. His paws were entirely too sensitive.

      A thought which kept him frozen, still safely out of sight. I will solve this eventually. Thank you for your time, Miss Waterhouse. Have a good night.

      He assumed it was night. Or at least evening. He’d been in the library for hours now without bothering to glance out a window.

      You only ever call me Miss Waterhouse when you’re stuck, Miss Scarlett Waterhouse herself pointed out. Mel could hear the smile in her voice, which he was starting to suspect was more for the Miss than any malicious laughter at his expense.

      Still, he hesitated before exhaling loudly through his nose.

      Or, he tried to exhale through his nose. Since he was currently, sort of, a cat, it came out as a sneeze.

      He couldn’t tap his fingers. He couldn’t pinch the bridge of his nose. He noticed his tail lashing about, and the urge to thwap it down was nigh irresistible, but he resist it he did.

      It’s not a favor if I didn’t ask for it, he argued instead. Anyway, you still owe for me for the cursed sneakers incident.

      First of all, Scarlett replied immediately, "no, I don’t. Secondly, ‘cursed’ would imply malevolence Those were ancient artifacts, perhaps semi-sentient beings in their own right by now, who happened to have taken the form of red high tops, and anyone could have tried them on without realizing their power."

      Mel wanted to cross his arms smugly. Except it was you. And you danced, exhausted, to my door, and demanded I help you.

      Scarlett’s little snort of derision was perfectly audible. And the shoes kicked you in the face.

      Mel was several steps down the staircase in a blink. "The shoes dance. You kicked me in the face!"

      There was a pause. "I admit nothing. But if that had happened, it was likely an accident, and it was only because I was distracted."

      Distracted? Mel

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