Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 89554 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89554 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
“It’s Rhys.”
“Rhys.” I repeat his name with a smile while trying not to show my confusion. Is it because I’m Greek or is it because he’s a shifter and I’m human that I didn’t know how to pronounce ‘Rwyz”?
I glance at the short bio the organizer has supplied me with about Rhys, and my eyes widen when I read how he describes himself.
Heir to alpha?
It’s only been a couple of years since That Day, but we humans are quick to adapt and assimilate when our survival depends on it. Even before L’Alliance was officially established, thousands of videos were already up online, talking about the common tells one can look for to determine if someone’s preter or not.
So, this guy?
Mm.
I honestly can’t sense anything ‘alpha-like’ in him, but maybe that’s just me knowing so little about preters in general. Maybe, if I look at him hard and long enough, I’ll eventually—
“Samira, right?” He glances at my info card, and did he just...sneer? “And you work in show business?”
I know I should be offended, but I’m just having a hard time fighting back a smile at the way his voice drips with judgment.
“You want to be an actress?”
I really think I should be offended by now, but it’s just so hard. I was born with pretty thick skin, and it’s only gotten thicker over the years, with my Grandpa being the way he is.
But...wait.
I should probably let Rhys know he’s gotten it all wrong about me, right?
So I shake my head and say, “Actually, I—”
Rhys raises his hand in a gesture for me to stop speaking. “It’s fine. Everyone in Hollywood’s an aspiring something.”
“Well, if it, um, means anything—” I don’t know why, but he makes me feel obliged to share the rest of my work history. “I also worked in retail. I started at sixteen. Part-time bagger then—”
“Back up a bit, will you?” He’s looking at me now like I’ve just admitted being guilty of, I don’t know, having my name blacklisted from a Michelin-starred restaurant because I violated their dress code?
“Did you just say you’ve been working since you were sixteen?”
“I did, yes—”
“But you graduated from high school, right?”
“I did—”
“And college?”
“I couldn’t afford to.”
“Why not?”
“It’s...complicated.” Like, grandfather-kicked-me-out-when-I-was-rejected-as-a-potential-bride complicated.
Rhys’s nose wrinkles, and that...says a lot. It’s obvious that his life up to this day has never had any complications, and I’m glad for him. Complications suck, especially when it has to do with one’s family. I know it’s not cancer or anything, but it still eats at you, and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.
Rhys leans back against his seat. “I have three degrees myself, you know. Got it from all of the top schools. Education matters, and there are times when you need credentials just to prove to some ill-informed human that being preter doesn’t mean we’re some brainless animal they can just boss around.”
Bitterness has seeped into his voice by the time he’s done speaking, and now I feel absolutely awful for him. “I’m so sorry you had an experience like that—” I break off at the way he’s jerked in his seat and looks at me like I now have two pair of horns.
“I’m sorry,” I immediately apologize. “Did I say something wrong?”
“No.” His voice is stiff this time, and I’m just wondering if anyone’s ever told him he might need to see a doctor for his mood swings? “You’re just...you’re just the first human to say that.”
“But I’m sure I’m not the only one who...thinks...it.” My voice trails off at how he’s looking at me, and yes, it does feel like I now have six horns from four!
What is it with this man?
“What’s your name again?”
Ding.
I can only smile apologetically as the event ushers keep me from replying, and as he’s urged to move to the next table, I grab my pen and start scribbling my notes about him. Poor guy. He must have had encountered a really awful case of prejudice in his past, and it’s what pushed him to use all of those fancy degrees of his as a shield.
“Well, hello there.”
The next man that slides into the seat on the other side of the table is 50% homo sapien, 50% just pure testosterone, and the type of man that I usually avoid at all cost.
“I’m Chuck.”
I know he’s speaking to me, but he’s staring at my chest all this time, and I just really don’t know what to do in cases like this.
“Samira’s a lovely name. Exotic even.”
I want to cross my arms over my chest, but the few times I’ve done this, it just seems to make things worse. I’ve actually resorted to wearing oversized shirts because of men like him, but it’s as if they just...know.
“Says here you’re twenty-four and single. Never married, no kids...” His grin widens. “And no relationship history at all? Seriously?”