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Chapter 9

Kira

I hated Fangmore City. It was so busy, like barely contained chaos. The unending movement and activity reminded me of a bag of snakes. I never fit in when I was there, even though over eighty percent of the population were wolf shifters.

Perhaps that was why I hated it so much. All along the streets and alleys, shifters padded or sprinted along, getting where they needed to go in their wolf form. It made the giant city eerily quiet. There was none of the noise pollution from cars and buses that human or mixed cities had. Seeing them go about their day as wolves reminded me of what I was missing. Regardless of whether or not it was my decision, it was always a sore spot.

Zoe had teleported me to a spot a few blocks from the studio offices where the auditions were being held. That forced me to walk the rest of the way. The sounds of wolf feet on pavement, the panting of breath, and the smell of fur gave me the feeling of being inexplicably out of place.

A massive bus pulled slowly up the street. The magic-electric hybrid shuttled a few of the humans and other creatures who shared the city with the wolf population. I hurried alongside it. A massive vinyl-wrap picture was plastered on the side. Von Thornton’s gleaming vampire smile and glittering eyes were aimed right at me. Season thirty-one! Coming soon! The bright-red letters beside his face proclaimed. Beside that was the signature logo of The Reject Project—a red full moon with a howling wolf’s head in black silhouetted against it.

Gritting my teeth in determination, I quickened my pace and found the studio. Once inside the building, I finally took a breath. The male receptionist behind a large desk glanced lazily at me before turning back to his computer.

“Um, hi, I’m not sure if you’re who I need to talk to, but–”

Without looking up, he cut me off by pointing to the elevators. “Top floor. Second door on the right.”

I frowned. “I’m sorry?”

With a dramatic, heaving sigh, he pulled his eyes from his computer. “You’re here to audition.” It was a statement, not a question.

Taken aback, I blinked. “Well, yes. For the Reject–”

“Project. Yeah, yeah. Like I said, top floor, second door on the right. You’ll need to sign a waiver. They have a whole stack of them up there. Have a good day.”

He turned back to his computer, effectively dismissing me. I glanced over the counter to see what was so damned important. The ass was deeply enthralled in a game of solitaire. I wanted to shout at him but decided accosting one of the employees for being a dick wouldn’t help my chances of getting on the show.

“Thanks for the help,” I said sarcastically and strode to the bank of elevators.

After waiting for what felt like forever, the doors finally dinged and opened. Stepping in, I hit the button for the top floor. The wall on my right had a large poster emblazoned with the slogan for The Reject Project in bright, bold letters. Everyone Loves an Underdog. I hoped to the gods that was true.

A few minutes later, I was sitting in a room full of hopeful contestants. It did not help my self-esteem. The other women looked nothing like me. For one, several of them were gorgeous in that over-the-top, plastic way of the wives and girlfriends of celebrities or sports stars: flowing hair, perfect lips, tight and revealing dresses, but cunning and desperate eyes.

Others looked like they could handle themselves in a fight, like me. Those women were the ones I worried about. They glanced around the room, taking in all the others, judging them, grading them…dismissing them.

Hopelessness clawed at my insides. Why would they choose me? I wasn’t special. I barely even stood out among these women. This was the stupidest idea I’d ever had. I never should have done this. And by now, I was sure people had asked where I went, and Zoe would have told them. When I was turned down for the role, I’d have to go back home, embarrassed and rejected again. It would be devastating. I resolved to go ahead and pack my shit to leave if that was the case. I wouldn’t make Dad have to officially banish me from the pack. I’d do it on my own and save us both the humiliation.

A big, burly wolf shifter stood at the door leading to the office, making sure no one went through until they were called. One younger girl was leaning on the wall and talking to him, though he seemed to be paying her no attention. Without trying, I overheard their conversation.

“And then he said he couldn’t be with me because he didn’t think we were compatible. He actually said that. Said that there must have been a mistake, and we couldn’t even be friends because he didn’t feel anything for me. Can you believe that?” She shook her head in disgust, then grabbed her oversized breasts. “I had a fucking fae doctor give me these because he liked big boobs. Do you have any idea how much that costs? I mean, I could have gotten the fake silicone things some people get, but I wanted my mate to have the real thing, you know?”

Around the room, through murmured conversations, I heard other sob stories of rejections. Most of them revolved around the male not being attracted to the female or some weird pack-hierarchy thing coming into play. One young woman said her blood test had paired her with her own pack’s alpha, who was already mated to someone else, forcing him to reject her for decorum’s sake.

I was surprised by how many gorgeous women had been rejected by their mates—far more than I would have anticipated. It was always thought that rejected mates were incredibly rare, but if this room was any inclination, it seemed to happen far more often than anyone realized. Then again, rejection was so devastating and embarrassing to the packs, the true numbers were probably kept under wraps. It was stressful enough to be paired with someone you might not even know. There was no reason to throw in the worry that you could be rejected and turned into an outcast.