Dad nodded. “Sure is.”
“Uh... why’s that?” I asked, already scared of the answer.
They shared a conspiratorial smile.
“Because, son,” Dad began, “we signed you up for the Dragonfate Games season four.”
There was static in my ears distorting his words. Because there was no way my parents signed me—me, their chubby, nerdy, shy son—up for a reality TV show.
“What?” I blurted.
“And here’s the kicker,” Mom preened. “They accepted you! You’re going to be on TV!”
I felt faint. A cold sweat broke out over my skin.
This was not happening.
“Well? Are you excited or what?” Mom asked.
I was the polar opposite of excited. I wanted to sink into the floor. But my parents searched my face for a positive reaction. If the show had accepted me, it was already too late to drop out. And if I didn’t act happy, it would hurt their feelings.
“Y-yeah,” I wheezed. “Wow, thanks, Mom and Dad.”
Mom kissed my forehead. “We knew you’d be ecstatic over this, Mylo. Oh, we should go shopping for some new clothes before you get on that plane.” She patted my tummy. “This shirt’s looking tight.”
The blood drained from my face. “Plane...?”
She chuckled. “Of course there’s a plane! It’s on a private island.”
Reality TV show. Plane. Island.
This sounded like my worst nightmare.
“I can’t wait,” Mom squealed. “I’m going to go tell all our relatives!”
She scurried out of the room. I was glad for that, because I might’ve passed out at any second. The fewer people present to witness that, the better.
But Dad was still here. He kneeled in front of me.
“Oh, don’t look so scared, Mylo. Buck up,” he said.
I wasn’t the kind of person who ‘bucked up’. I was more of a ‘hide in my blanket pile in my room until my anxiety passed’ kind of guy.
“This really is an amazing opportunity,” Dad continued. “And, let’s be honest, you need it. Our whole kind needs it. We need the visibility.”
His statement grounded me. As black-footed ferret shifters, we were rare. Our non-shifter cousins were disappearing in their native territory. As an omega, I’d always known I had an unspoken responsibility to help our kind. AKA, make black-footed ferret shifter babies.
“I know,” I murmured.
“And who knows? You could find a mate. It’s a dating program, after all.”
“I doubt that—wait, what? WHAT?”
Now I was really going to pass out.
Dad didn’t seem to notice. “Right. I forgot you don’t know. It’s all about alpha dragons finding their fated mates. You’ll be competing with other omegas for their love.”
Oh.
