I stroll down the aisle between rows of burgundy-colored cloth theater chairs to get to the stage as a sound technician speaks into the microphone. "Check one. Check one, two, three. Check."

I call out to him, "We need a little more bass."

"They're lined up outside the auditorium," says Alisha as she approaches me. She's clutching a clipboard and wearing a dress that her belly makes resemble a tent. But her beauty manages to light up her face as her eyes shine with excitement.

"You have them warming up as well?"

She nods.

"Beverages?"

Alisha's face falls a bit. "Hot tea with lemon and honey, water, and black coffee are available too. With no dairy, like you asked."

"Good. And— “

"And I did everything you asked me to do, Chelsea. Jeez, you act like I've never had a job."

I flash to one of Rita's first tirades toward me when I was frustrated the way Alisha is right now. This is so not how I want to be. "Right. Thank you." I find a kinder voice and ask, "Did Jayden have enough time slots for everyone?" Even though we have a list of interested werewolves, this audition has been the buzz around town, and I expect more will show up.

"So far. And we've still got a few open spots left."

I’m pleased with the turnout and how well this is going so far. I'm certain one of the guys we audition today is going to be perfect for what Rita wants. My lips turn up with a smile as I imagine climbing out of my Jaguar. My Louboutin heel strikes the ground as I take the hand of a valet and climb out in a one-of-a-kind designer dress made specifically for me. I stroll into a chi-chi café to meet my famous friends before I snap back to reality. Yes! I let out a sigh of satisfaction. This is going to be a real career boost. I can almost taste the chilled Dom Perignon.

"Places, people!" calls out Alisha.

The video guy gets behind his camera. I'm going to send the tape to a friend of mine in casting for her top picks, and once we've made our selection, I'll send Rita the guy's auditions. I take my seat in the front row next to the high school music teacher, Eric. He's an older werewolf who will score the applicants based on musical ability.

Jayden sits next to me with her clipboard and says, "This is so exciting. I feel like I'm in TV too."

"Right now, you are," I say as I smile at her. I grab the special score sheet I printed and hand it to her. "Here. You're going to judge too."

"I am? Oh gosh, I don't know the first thing about what you're looking for."

"Yes, you do." I grin as I point to what I have for her criteria. When Jayden and I were college roommates, we created a judging system for the guys on campus as a joke between us. I’ve resurrected some of it.

"Swoonworthiness?" She starts to laugh as she reads through the categories such as hair, smile, and butt. She snuggles into me, and I welcome the warmth of my friend against my arm. "You're the best, Chelsea."

"I like to think so."

"And hopefully one of these guys is going to as well. I really miss having you around. But even more, I'd love for you to be as happy as Alisha, Juliet, and I are."

"I know." Sadness fills me because I know she’s sincere, and it’s part of why we’re growing apart.

The first werewolf walks onto the stage. He holds a card in front of him stating his name for the video. I take in the tall, dark, and definitely handsome werewolf before me. "Trevor, what would you like to sing for us today?"

He tells us about the ballad he's chosen and proceeds to sing it well. But he doesn't have the charisma necessary. After a few more applicants who are also not exciting me, we get to Byron. He's a close friend of Jayden's husband, Alex, and I perk up, because he's got the right kind of personality for Hollywood. His cowboy boots thud on the stage as he struts out, and he tips his cowboy hat to me. "Hey, Chelsea. I tried to get Alisha to let me go first, but she has the fairness gene and wouldn't let me cut the line." I glance at Alisha, who rolls her eyes. "No worries, though," continues Byron. "I'm going to make this a done deal now. Once you hear me, your search will be over."

"Confidence," I say. "I like it. What are you going to sing for us today?"

"I know you said you wanted rock songs, and I considered it. I really did. But I think what you need for the show is a country singer. So I'm going to do Kenny Chesney's ‘She Thinks My Tractor's Sexy.’"

Jayden lets out a snort and covers her mouth. I elbow her as I try to remain professional. "Okay, then. When you're ready."

I should have known it would be hard to take Byron seriously, and as soon as he starts to sing, he squats down and mimics riding on a tractor. He moves in that position, demonstrating his thighs of steel more than anything else, across the stage while steering with his imaginary wheel and flashing a cheesy smile as often as he can. Jayden's body shakes next to mine with her silent laughter. But both of us manage to hold on until the end of his song.

"You have a great voice," I say. "And I appreciated the acting too."

"Yeah?" Byron grins with pride. "I thought you might like that extra touch." He spreads his feet and stands a little taller. "I prepared a little something else for you to see how my skills really shine."

"That's okay," I say. "We've got enough to go on."

He holds out his hand. "No. Wait. You really need to see this."

"Ah, okay," I say.

Byron looks up toward the ceiling and holds out his hand as if he's talking to someone in the balcony. He is, because he starts in on a Shakespeare speech from Romeo about Juliet.

"He's not bad," whispers Eric.

He isn't, so I listen patiently. When Byron's done, I say, "Thank you very much. Now— “

"Hang on. Check this out." Byron stiffens as he makes his face as expressionless as possible, and I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing when he begins to mime. I swallow down my giggle. "That's great too, Byron, but we really need to move on."

Alisha moves across the stage toward him to help us out. "We talked about this, Byron," she says in her best teacher voice. "You're not being fair to the other singers." She takes him by the arm and starts to pull him away.

Byron’s eyebrows shoot up into his hairline as his mouth forms a perfect “I’m surprised” O, and he grabs the mic from the stand. As Alisha drags him away, he breaks character to cry out into his microphone, "I'm good at comedy too! Why did the chicken cross the road?"

Alisha barks, "That’s enough!" and pushes him to move faster. Once they're off the stage, he pokes his head out beside the curtain. "How about my ventriloquist act?"

"Byron!" yells Alisha, and he disappears again. Even though they’re now off stage, Byron’s voice carries over the speakers from the microphone. “I have more! Tell me what you want, and I— “ He’s cut off by a loud click.

Jayden, Eric, and I let out our laughter. When I recover, I say, "She's going to be such a great mom."

When Alisha doesn't come back, Jayden says, "She might be indisposed for a bit. Should I go call the next guy?"

I shake my head. "I need to stretch my legs. I'll go get him."

There are steps on the side of the stage, and as I climb up them, the gathered stage curtain is before me. I push it aside and nearly bump into a very large chest. I put my hand on it to steady myself before I look up, and the tingle I felt in the gas station rushes up my arm. Quinten.

He grins down at me, and the most compelling male scent I've ever smelled fills my nostrils. I sway as if it's just sucked all the energy out of me and clutch at his shirt.

Quinten grabs my arms and asks, "Chelsea, are you okay?"

I shake my head as I open my eyes and look at him. My brain doesn't want what I know to be true, but my body wants nothing more. "No," I say.

"What's wrong? Are you sick?"

I lift my arms quickly to break Quinten's grip, and I step back to break the connection I feel to this man. This werewolf.

"Something worse."

I think about how much I love my life in California and about how true mate attraction is so strong that Jayden and Alisha left the real world and their careers to become werewolves. This is not a battle I want, and tears of frustration fill my eyes.

I say, "You're my true mate."

"I know."

I hate that I'm crying. I pride myself on being strong and capable of controlling my emotions, but I'm not either of those things right now.

Quinten holds out his hand. "Welcome to the pack."

Suddenly I have no trouble stopping my tears, because his assumption, along with my friends’ insistence that I need to be part of the pack, makes anger rush forward. I grab the emotion and hold on tight.

"Just one minute, cowboy! Nobody said I was into the true-mate thing. This cult-like world you've got going on here is not for me."

He takes a step back in surprise, and I say, "Now, let’s get back to the auditions, shall we? Tell whoever is next to come onto the stage, please."

A grin covers his face, and he tips his hat at me. "Yes ma'am."

I want to smack the smile off his face, because I don't think he took me seriously. I turn and consider that I would stomp down the stairs if I weren't wearing stilettos. When I get to the bottom, I pause to take a deep breath, and I dab at my eyes with my fingers to wipe away moisture as I compose myself.

When I get to my seat, Eric asks, "Is everything okay?"

I glance up at the stage to see Quinten is standing with his name card in one hand, a guitar in the other, and a cocky smirk on his face as he looks at me.

I sit down and mutter, "Everything's fine." But it's not. Far from it.