Hunting Ember (Pride of Alphas #1) - Milly Taiden Page 0,7

anyone. Or the kind where a group of people were all locked together, and the only goal was to hook up. Better yet, the competition ones irked him. People were fakes, particularly when there was a camera lens pointed in their direction.

“I would go,” the employee said, “but they’re shooting that movie on lot 7. And you said I need to make sure all of us guards are at their post.”

If Kai hated anything worse than reality television, it was actors.

They were so damn entitled, it made his head spin to think about. He slid his walkie talkie into his back pocket and turned the cart around, speeding toward lot 5. The building was a huge gray box, and Greg, the production assistant, was waving him down like a goddamn neurotic pigeon.

“What’s up, Greg?” he asked, walking toward the shorter man.

“Well, there’s been an incident.”

“Okay? What kind of incident?”

“An open-faced light fixture fell from the ceiling and crashed onto one of the contestants.”

Kai had a bad feeling about it immediately. His lion was prowling in his mind, growling low. “Is the person all right?”

Greg flinched. “There is an injury.”

“So why didn’t you call the paramedics? I can’t help with a wound, you know.”

“The director wanted you called because—” Greg blanched. “The wire holding the thing up was—”

“Was?” Kai repeated impatiently.

“It was cut.”

“Are you telling me that on the first day of shooting, someone has already tried to kill one of the contestants?”

Greg nodded, his face pinched.

Fucking reality television.

“For fuck’s sake.” Kai pushed past Greg and pulled open the heavy door. He used his shifter hearing to lead him straight to the scene, deep into the building. The narrow hallways were cheap drywall, barely painted, making it easier for the studio to change its layout in very little time. Sound traveled reasonably well unless you were on the sound stage, where the filming took place. The ceiling was a mess of exposed beams and wiring; everything was done for the sake of simplicity.

Kai found the scene of the incident quite quickly, his long, muscular legs eating up the distance like the hunting lion he was.

There was a wide circle of people, all looking down on the ground. Christ, did no one have sense anymore? This is what humans did when someone was in distress? They stood around, gawking like a bunch of sheep, not bothering to help. They could have at least left the scene to give the injured person some privacy.

“Make a hole,” he snapped with his most authoritarian voice.

It worked like a charm, even though he had barely used his full growling tone. The crowd reluctantly dispersed, preferring to gawk at the injured contestant for as long as they possibly could.

There was someone on the ground, motionless and pale. A woman. But not just anyone woman.

Mate, his lion roared. We have finally found her.

Fuck.

No.

Mate. Our mate is hurt. Do something, or I’ll bust through you to get to her, and whoever hurt her.

If Kai had been alone in the building, he would have roared out the word mate to the sky in relief. In frustration. In anger. There was too much going on in his brain all at once, and his lion’s incessant chatter really wasn’t helping. As it were, Kai couldn’t have any sort of reaction but to be his professional self. He was surrounded by humans.

And his mate.

A contestant on a stupid reality television show.

An attention-seeker. Someone who pimped herself out for likes and followers. It made his stomach roll to think of the kind of woman his mate was going to be — an obnoxious fame chaser.

That was not for him.

In fact, that was the last thing he expected his mate to be. Surely, there was a mistake. His lion was wrong. His mate was supposed to be someone calm and collected, not an attention-seeking reality TV pseudo-celebrity out to make a quick buck and a quicker name for herself.

What a fucking nightmare.

You’re wrong. She will be wonderful because she’s ours. His lion was thrashing around in his mind, furious with Kai for making light of the situation.

The woman — not his mate, he would make sure of that, was lying on the ground, a gash on her temple, her eyes closed. Her auburn hair was like a halo around her head, her hands at her side curled into fists.

That was as interesting as it was infuriating. She was pretending to be passed out because, of course, she was. She was a reality television contestant. She