Chapter One
WHY OH WHY DID I LET myself get into this again?
The timer on the table blinks red. Two minutes left with Bachelor Number Four.
Or is it Five? They’re all starting to blur together in a parade of disappointment that would make my grandmother roll over in her grave.
She’d arranged so many “meetings” for me back in Athens, and here I am in Hollywood, voluntarily subjecting myself to the modern American version of the same torture.
“—and that’s when Mother suggested I should try meeting someone more...traditional.” The man across from me adjusts his glasses for the third time in as many minutes. “She says a woman who’s never had a boyfriend by your age must be waiting for the right man. Someone who understands family values.”
I force my lips into what I hope passes for a smile. “That’s...nice.”
“Mother will be so pleased when I tell her about you. Greek girls are known for being good homemakers. And you’ve never dated anyone?” His eyes light up like he’s found a mint-condition collectible. “That’s so rare these days. Mother says modern women are too—”
Ding.
“Oh, time’s up.” I try not to sound too relieved as he reluctantly gathers his scoring sheet. “It was nice meeting you.”
“I’ll definitely be marking you as a yes. Mother will want to meet you for lunch tomorrow. She—”
“Next rotation, please!” The event coordinator’s voice cuts through whatever else his mother has to say.
I scribble ‘Does not believe in leave and cleave’ on my notes as he shuffles away. Loving your mom isn’t ever a bad thing. But loving them too much to the point that she’s become more like your god?
Oh well.
At least he didn’t judge me for being relationship-inexperienced. Point in his favor, never mind if he also spoke of me being boyfriendless sound like I’m some untouched artifact in a museum.
The chair across from me fills again. “Hi there.”
“Hi—” My voice falters as I try but fail to read what he’s written on the name plate he has pinned to his coat.
“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?”
I nod, already regretting putting that on my card. The event organizer said honesty was important, but I’m starting to think I should have been more creative. There are other truthful things I could have talked about instead of me being—
“That’s incredible. A virgin in Hollywood.”
—that.
“You’re like a unicorn!”
And they always react like that, too.
Chuck leans forward, invading my personal space. “I could teach you so many things, babe. Show you what you’ve been missing. I’ve got a place in the Hills, king-size bed, mirror on the ceiling. You’d love it there.”
“Oh.”
It’s all I can think of saying. I just wanted to be polite. But this still ends up backfiring—
“Am I scaring you?”
—because now he’s looking at me like he wants to scare me even more.
“I know I’m pretty big. No, I’m a lot bigger than you. But you don’t have to worry. We can make it work. I promise I’ll be gentle.”
He winks after saying this, and I guess I really am a lot more innocent than I realized...since I’m not sure what he’s winking about?
“You know the reality show Fangs Suck? I was a guest there, and man. Those blood-drinking chicks dug me. They really did. You’ve seen it, right?”
I shake my head.
“I think I have it in my phone. I’ll send you a clip if you give me your number now.”
“Oh, that’s not allowed—”
“Even better. That’s when the fun starts, babe. When we start breaking rules, and then later, when we’re alone, we can break what’s between your—”
His words cut off with a startled yelp as two massive shapes literally lift him out of his chair.
Was that security?
Make that preter security, since they’re moving so fast I can barely track their motion as they carry a-still-seated Chuck and his chair through the emergency exit. The door slams shut, cutting off his protests about knowing people, lawsuits, and his father’s connections.
What just happened?
I’m still frozen in shock in my seat when someone quickly places a vacant chair in front of my table, and the next man—wait, there can’t be any next candidate yet. The bell hasn’t rung, and so who in the world—
Oh.
I finally remembered to look up, and I think...I think I’m having hallucinations.
Rub, rub, rub.
I open my eyes, but it’s still there, so...
Yup, still hallucinating.
I’m about to rub my eyes one more time when the hallucination actually speaks—
“Nous nous revoyons.”
And the voice...
Unmistakably real, painfully familiar, and that’s why I know, even if though it should be impossible...
Hexius Mercier.
Six years have passed since that day he rejected me as his bride, and...I just don’t know what to feel about him.
Back then, all I knew was that he was this French billionaire in need of a virgin bride.
Back then, I was still so young, my world so terribly small, and so whatever Pappoú said for me was law: real, true, unbreakable. It was only afterwards that I learned that the people you’ve lived with your whole life...
They can lie to you, too, and they’re not even doing it for your sake either.
Enough, Sam.
I shake off the past with an effort, and my stomach twists itself in knots as I reluctantly turn my attention back to the man who still haunts my dreams more than I want to admit.
He’s taller and more powerful than I’ve allowed myself to remember, his aura more warrior than billionaire, and his eyes of gold so piercingly sharp that he seems to see everything. ..except me.
The memory of his rejection has me torn between squirming...and just running away. But because I really hate the thought of acting like a coward—
“Are you...are you here for the speed dating?” I realize it’s a stupid question as soon as I ask it, but it’s too late to take it back...since he’s already looking at me like, yes, I don’t know why I keep thinking that way, but yes, he’s looking at me like I’ve grown a pair of horns.
Let’s just mentally wipe the slate clean and start again, I urge myself. Maybe this is just a coincidence and he simply wants to say—no!
I reach across the table to stop him, but nope, I’m still too late. Again. And now he has my notes in my hands, and all my secret thoughts exposed to his soul-piercing eyes of gold.
Please let him NOT know how to read—
“Does not know how to leave and cleave.”
Eep, too late, he reads Greek, and I’m doomed.
“Traumatized by past,” he continues to read.
“Please give it back—”
“Seeks validation in educational attainment.”
I feel so bad hearing him say these words out loud. I wasn’t lying when I wrote them, but it just feels...wrong.
“Sexually preoccupied.”
Is it just me or did his lips tighten while saying those words? Then again, so what if—no!
I make another attempt to snatch my notes back when I see him flipping to the previous page, but my reflexes fail me for the nth time. Is it because I’m human or I’m just...not physically gifted?
“Please give it back.” I try to sound calm even though I’m panicking inside. “Those notes—”
“Knows how to take charge, keep his word, and stand his ground.”
I think I’m going to die of shame. While waiting for the speed dating to start, I absently enumerated the traits that embodied my ideal husband. And at that time, I didn’t see anything wrong with it. How was I to know that my notes would end up being read out loud by—
“Doesn’t need to put others down to feel big.”
I’m so tempted to just close my eyes and cover my ears like a little girl wanting to deny reality.
“I want...to belong to just one man, no one else.”
I think I’ve heard enough.
But the moment I start to rise—
“Sit down please.”
He says this softly in strongly accented English, and I’m not sure why, but...I feel like I’m this newly enlisted private being comanded by his sergeant, and so, yes, I do sit back down like a dutiful little soldier.
Golden eyes capture mine, and my breath catches as well. Why do I feel like he’s seeing me for the first time?
“It seems I fit all of your requirements, Samira.”
Uh...
“How soon can we arrange our wedding?”