Then, in a move straight from the play’s final scene, the actor asked if they would kiss deeply to symbolize the depth of their connection, their fate as a mate.
The audience roared with excitement.
Alanna, never one to miss the spotlight, tilted her head and kissed him. Her lips brushed his, the moment displayed for everyone to see.
Alpha Waldo froze.
For a second, he looked like a wolf caught in a trap. Then he flinched, stepping back and breaking the kiss.
Our eyes met across the theater.
I felt nothing. No anger, no sadness—just a strange sense of liberation.
Breaking his gaze, I grabbed my bag and left.
As I reached the exit, hurried footsteps sounded behind me.
“Valerie!” Alpha Waldo called, his voice urgent.
I turned, arching a brow as he approached, hair disheveled and breath coming fast. “What now?”
“It’s not what it looked like,” he said, panting. “I couldn’t embarrass her in front of everyone. You understand, right?”
“Uh-huh.” I nodded, my tone neutral.
His brow furrowed. “Are you saying that because you mean it, or are you jealous?”
I couldn’t help it—I laughed. “Jealous? Of what? ”
Just then, Alanna burst out of the theater, wobbling in her heels. She called after him, but in her rush, she tripped.