That was definitely surprising. Why they would choose a name like that, I didn't understand. But maybe that was also just part of their gimmick.
"Plus this will put you on the map. Their tours have been getting bigger and bigger each month, and if we can get you..." She twirled a pen between her fingers and dropped the clipboard into my lap. There was already a schedule written down and a bullet point list of a few things the venue was expecting of me.
The rest of her words drifted off as I contemplated what this would mean for my career. I could possibly tour, get my name out there, better-paying gigs, maybe even sell some merchandise and online albums...this was definitely going to be big!
“And if you think that's all...they end all their shows shirtless.” Madeline was practically biting her thumbnail, her eyes all but rolling into the back of her head in a feigned swoon. I could smell the yearning on her and shook my head. It was going to take a lot more than just a few shirtless men to make me want to perform with them.
"I don't even know what kind of music they play," I stated, not knowing anything about this band other than how handsome they apparently were by Madeline's tastes.
"I put a few of their songs on your mp3 player for you to listen to. If you are lucky, maybe they will even let you sing on stage with them." She plucked my device from the deep recesses of her large purse and pressed it into my hand, along with a pair of ear buds.
"Kiara!"
"We love you!"
The sudden outburst drew our attention away. Right. I had forgotten about my fans.
"I'll get out of your hair, let you attend to your groupies–"
"They are not my groupies, Maddy," I said with a sneer. The thought of having intimate relations with any of them made my stomach turn.
"–and we will talk about this tomorrow over lunch, once you have rested up." She headed for the door. Another outburst sent her reeling back in, looking absolutely frazzled.
"I'm...going to go out the back way."
I laughed as I waved goodbye and placed the paperwork on the dresser. I would have to peruse them later when I wasn't so tired. For now, I was going to have to endure a meet-and-greet and spend about an hour taking selfies with about half the people waiting outside. Then, if I was lucky, I would make it home before midnight and crash into my bed. Most likely with this dress still on.
Who ever said life for the famous ever got easier?
3
My body gleamed with sweat and I was absolutely out of breath. I hadn't been worked like that in a long time, and it was a wonder I hadn't done this more often. My busy schedule didn't give me much time, but it was a thrill to get back into the gym again and let it all out.
It had been a frequent hobby of mine, getting some exercise whenever I could. Those times, as of recent, had been getting fewer until I couldn't remember the last time I had gone to the gym. I didn't know why, given the long runs I used to take when I was back in Alaska, letting my hair down and just running wherever I wanted, for as long as I wanted. Fresh air, a crisp breeze through my fur, the calls of the other nearby wolves in greeting...it had been a small piece of heaven that I would cherish forever. And could never go back to.
The rehearsals, the schedules, leaving my past behind...I wasn't admitting it to myself, but the stress had been building up for some time, and it was only now, after working out with a punching bag and a stationary bike—just to name a few—that I had realized how much tension I had been holding in all this time. It was a freeing experience, despite my limbs feeling like jelly. I made a silent promise to myself that I would never let things get this bad again.
Thankfully, my personal trainer was doing a great job of working me to the bone. She had been a little upset by my lack of calls to her recently, and I am sure she saw it as a small revenge for not keeping up with our workouts on a regular basis to put me through the ringer. What had drawn me to her and kept me as one of her most steadfast clients was that she never judged me for my figure. She never made mention of going on a diet, cutting anything out of my meals, or going out of my comfort zone when it came to my exercise routine. She accepted my curves—that people were just born with different body shapes—and asked me what I wanted to work on instead of pointing out what my problem areas were. I'd had no goal in mind, just that I wanted to be fit and healthy, and that I needed an outlet to vent the stress that came with being an entertainer. She had understood it all, without judgment or trying to change my mind in any way. Not that she would have been able to; I loved my body the way it was already, and I had no reason to change it to fit in to the standard of human society, a society that I was barely a part of.
The only thing she did judge me for, however, was my constant state of being single.
She would needle me about my social life, if I was seeing anyone or if I had gone out with a fan recently, or if I had tried any online dating sites. All of which I answered to the negative. I tried to explain that my schedule kept me busy, and there was always some hesitation in getting involved when I was mostly in the public eye. Looking at the stories coming out of Hollywood had made that apparent, with scandals, divorces, children out of wedlock, and money being stolen.
But that was another easy lie to pass along as to why I wasn't dating anyone. I was just not compatible with humans and their distrust of anything outside of the ordinary. I didn't want to take the risk of my kind being exposed. Because there would be a hunt to find the rest of my pack and wipe us off the map, and my kind couldn't fight two wars on two different fronts.
Those were concerns for a different life, a different day. despite not being a part of them anymore, I wasn't going to jeopardize the well-being of my pack. For now, however, I just wanted to get back home, get a hot shower, and have a decent meal.
A meal...the thought made my stomach roll with a hunger pang that almost doubled me over. What I really craved was a hamburger and a handful of fries, but that would feel like cheating after all the hard work I had just gone through. Maybe a hearty salad with a little treat for dessert. Nothing too fancy or rich. Yesterday's lunch had done enough for me.
That is when my thoughts fell back to yesterday's lunch with Madeline and the talk we'd had about playing with the Fat Bastards. It had been mostly business matters, what the venue expected of me, et cetera. What we hadn't talked about was the band specifically. She had probably seen my eyes rolling the night before and decided not to bring their looks up again. I had forgotten to listen to any of the songs she had given me, which meant I was still in the dark about the kind of music they played. My curiosity piqued and still waiting outside of the gym for my ride, I did a quick YouTube search to find if there were any videos online. There was a decent number already listed. I picked the one with the most views as my starting point.
My car pulled up and I got in, hefting my gym bag onto the seat next to me. I indicated that the driver should head home before rolling up the dividing window, so I could have my privacy. The music started off simple enough, the bass guitar a little heavy and the drums going to town when I just about lost my mind at hearing them sing. It wasn't that they were great, it was the fact that the song felt familiar somehow. It was even a cover song of one I already knew, yet all the hair on the back of my neck was standing up. There was an itching at the back of my brain begging for attention, telling me that the obvious was right there in front of me and I was still missing it. I plugged in my ear buds and turned the volume up.
The way they moved, the lilting of their notes...I couldn't help but toy with the idea that they were like me. Then it hit me that they were.
They were wolf shifters.
It was difficult to physically tell just from the video alone since production quality was meant to only portray them in their best light. But the thought made me even more intrigued to meet them, to see them in person and determine whether I was right or not. I had to give Madeline credit, however, these men were drop dead gorgeous and I found my eyes glued to them.
As the video c
ontinued to play, I pulled up their website on another tab to know a little more about them. There wasn't much on their band page, other than a few pictures of them, and short bios, but nothing that really told me about where they came from. It was most likely that those weren't even their real names, but fake ones they were using just to get by in society. Whatever past they had generated for themselves was probably also fake but sounded legitimate enough that no one would go digging too deeply to verify whether the facts were true or not.
The longer I watched, the faster my heart raced. It was a blessing and a curse that I was going to be around other wolf shifters. On the one hand, they could be easy to talk to and it was good to not feel so alone in this alien world. On the other hand, my kind was known for being territorial, and if they didn't approve of me being in this area, I was going to have to move, whether we performed well together or not. The more I thought about it, the more confused I was on whether I wanted to meet them.
But I had already expressed excitement about working with them and to do an about-face would make Madeline suspicious. And a suspicious Madeline would poke her nose into everything to find the real reason. I was going to have to be onstage with the Fat Bastards and hope the arrangement was only temporary to avoid any hard feelings. Or violence.
I couldn't help but wonder which pack they had come from and how far they had traveled to get here. They didn't look related, which meant they were friends from the same pack or had formed their friendship after leaving their separate packs Hopefully, if we ended up on good terms, that was something I could ask about, away from prying human ears.
I sat back in my seat and turned off the video, felt the wind rushing through the window dry my sweat and left me somewhat refreshed. I still couldn't believe it; other wolf-shifters, here. It was too good to be true, and as long as I played my cards right and they were willing to listen to reason, being around them would be the closest thing to being home again.
4
After my salad had been prepared and eaten, my shower taken, and rearranged a few things in my schedule for the rest of the week, I found myself still humming along to one of the Fat Bastards' songs. I had been playing all their videos on loop for the better part of three hours, and I could see why they were so popular. Their music was definitely catchy, and probably even more hypnotizing to humans than what I performed on stage. Their choice of alternative rock also had a much wider audience than the R&B I chose to perform, which explained why they had such a big fan following.
Their appearances definitely weren't hurting them either. Wrapped up in a towel and with a cleansing mask on my face, I took a good look at the first video I had pulled up earlier today.
The blond drummer was the eldest of the group, with deep-set grey eyes that looked like a calm sky after a storm. He was Landon Woods, a bright young man of only twenty-seven, and a softness to his face that belied his age. He did have a strong jaw, however, and a single pierced eyebrow, probably to give him a tougher look. Which it seemed he needed since he was the shortest one of the group. He seemed to enjoy staying in the background most of the time, but he did look like he was having fun on his drums. It was hard to resist someone who looked so passionate about his music.
The middle member of the group was the bass player, who looked something of a wild child with long black hair slicked back into a skinny ponytail that ran down the length of his back. Xavier Morgan, only twenty-four-years-old, his cheeks were a little gaunt and angled, and sporting the beginnings of a stubble. He had the broody-type look but with the exact opposite personality. He was wearing a mesh shirt, which made it easy to see what he was working with. His torso sported tattoos of various kinds, very colorful but none I could really make out. Ice blue eyes peered out from the dark circles of makeup around his eyes, a stark contrast to the rest of his angled features. I couldn't tell whether he was the fun, party type, or one of those guys that smashes his guitar on the ground. But he definitely played with passion, shaking his long hair in his head thrashing.
The youngest was the lead singer, twenty-two, and also the tallest, with chocolate brown hair and bright green eyes that burned with the ferocity of a forest fire. Jasper Frost, a man who appeared as if he could take you down with just a look and didn't pull any punches when it came to speaking his mind. There were absent smile lines on his face, and his grip on the microphone revealed just how much control he exuded on stage. Unlike his older band member, Xavier, he commanded the music rather than feeling it, which made him the perfect choice for front man and singer. It likely meant that he ran them all like clockwork too, keeping the others in check so they could be taken seriously by their fans, their manager, and whoever they chose to work with. Having a good head on his shoulders was likely why they were so successful. For someone so young, however, there was definitely some mystery there, and I would be lying if I said I wasn't intrigued.
He was also the most conservatively dressed of the three, wearing a simple tank top and jeans that flared out at the bottoms to reveal black boots. He had no piercings of any kind, not even a tattoo, and the only striking thing about his appearance was the black nail polish he wore only on his pinkies. There was definitely a story there, one I hoped to discover on my own.
Just from watching the videos, it was difficult to figure out if any of them were my type. Of course, it had been a long time since I had ever been in a relationship, so I couldn't be sure I even had a type. Which was fine; I was keeping my options open if any of them returned any–
I shook the thought from my head; I was getting ahead of myself, already considering a relationship with any of the Fat Bastards before we had even met. Not a good first start, but I was so desperate to be with one of my kind again that I was letting my imagination run away with things.
I shoved the laptop to the end of my bed and fell back to the covers, still in my plush robe. Staring up at the ceiling, I felt nostalgia wash over me and sink into every pore of my body. I closed my eyes and imagined the large desolate plains of Alaska, dotted with evergreens and untouched by the hand of man. It was peaceful. Quiet. Serene. And home.
No. My former home. There would be no going back for me; packs rarely welcomed those from other groups, afraid that the added numbers would disrupt their very foundation and bring their pack to collapse. Another risk no one wanted to take, and that meant abandoning everything I had known to come all the way out here.
I sighed as I sat back up, no longer wanting to dwell on a life I could never have again, despite being this close to having a paler comparison of it. There was no use being sad about all of it. I snatched up my laptop, flipped it open, and went back to the band's website. I found links to each member's social media sites and opened them up.
Xavier's page was the first I found, and his page was filled with selfies, pictures of guitars, and alcoholic drinks. His icon was the band's logo, and the majority of his posts sounded like the random daily life of a skateboarding teenager. The pictures he took of himself mostly involved some kind of lewd hand gesture and a bottle of beer in the other hand, some with his hair down, and others with it tied up. He was without his makeup, which made his eyes look a little smaller than they did in the video. It was much easier to see the color of his eyes too and looking back at them felt like they were burrowing through the screen right at me. I was mesmerized by his stare, so much so I had to shake myself out of it minutes later when I realized there was still more to look at.
I found other pictures of him bent over a desk with blank sheet music and a pen. That made me think he was responsible for writing the music they played or at least played some part in that role. Someone else had obviously taken the picture because he didn't seem aware of it even being taken. His profile was intriguing to look at. The bridge of his long nose had a small bump that angled down as if he had broken it in the past and it had healed wrong. Without the cocky smile, his features were softened and appeared more honest than the persona he kept onstage and his social media. That de
finitely made me want to meet this other side of him, to see what he was like behind the curtain, the makeup, and experience what he really had to offer.
Jasper's page was the one I clicked on next and was definitely without the life and excitement that Xavier espoused on his page. His posts focused on official announcements, responding to fans, and contacting media companies and managers about performing gigs. His pictures were also less colorful: pictures of stages being set up, outside shots of the venues they were playing at, mostly buildings. There were a few of him shaking hands with various people, possibly fans or hiring managers, but what was most startling was the smile he had on his face. It seemed forced and never really reached his eyes. As if he had rehearsed the look plenty of times just to appear friendly to those he spoke to. It was a little unnerving, to say the least, but it touched something within me. Something made me want to find out why he was like this and possibly inspire a true smile out of him. Because if he was missing out on all the fun that could be had by being in a band and creating music, then he was going to burn out long before they truly became famous.
Landon's page was next...and it definitely wasn't what I was expecting for a guy with blond hair and a pierced eyebrow. There weren't very many selfies. Parks, animals, people playing with their dogs, the sky...it seemed a little bizarre to me, but even more so were his posts. They were...poetry. Small, four-lined stanzas about different emotions and feelings, random things that happened throughout his day, a few even seemed like personal wishes he felt like sharing with the world. Reading one post from a few months ago, the words seemed familiar until I realized they made up parts of a song they sang. That meant he must contribute to the lyrics, toying with what worked or not and using social media as a record of his ideas. That definitely made him intriguing and wondered what it would be like to work with him on a personal level.
Loved by the Alpha Wolves Page 2
