Forsaken by E. M. Moore
6
Iprowl the hallway between classes, my skirt swishing against my mid-thigh as I dart my eyes around the corridor. When I spot the door I’m looking for, I stop next to it like I’m just loitering, waiting for a friend.
It’s the door to the academy’s salon. Something I wasn’t aware they even had until Kinsey got a makeover. My advisor must really be a piece of shit. Not that I’m all caught up in my looks or anything, but a spa day would’ve been nice in a place like this.
Casually, I reach out and try the knob. It spins easily in my hand, and a mixture of surprise and happiness rings through me. Add a little bit of saltiness and that’s pretty much my whole emotional state right now.
The wooden door opens to a relatively small room. Unlike the rest of this beast of a building, this space is all white. A wall full of mirrors greets me, showing off my brown hair. I haven’t cut it since I got here, so it’s tickling past my shoulders. My purple and yellow plaid skirt jumps out in all this white as I close the door behind me.
Just like Kinsey said, to the right are drawers of makeup, each labeled with varying tools and supplies—foundation, eyeshadow, contouring brushes.
I stayed up all night working on a plan for Daybreak. Lately, I hadn’t thought much about going back there again. When I first arrived, I did. But as the months dragged on and Sean started showing up less and less, I disassociated myself with my pack.
Well, since I’m stepping foot back on Daybreak Pack property again, I need a change to feel more like myself. For my first shift, my mother begged me to strip my hair to its natural brown color. I appeased her, mainly because I was so nervous about shifting and the reality that I might actually find my mate that night. If she thought the best thing to do was to go back to my roots—literally—I was going to do it.
Now, though, I realize plain brown hair is so unlike me. I want something more. I tiptoe toward the mirrors, spying a line of cabinets underneath them. The faces are also labeled, and I want to kiss the person who put this place together. I find the hair dye cabinet and mentally cross my fingers that they’ll have what I want.
It takes me a minute to sift through them all. Just when I’m about to give up, I’m rewarded by finding a stock of fun colors underneath some normal ones. A squeak of surprise passes my lips when I spot the purple. I do a little dance, then clutch the box in my hands and hold up the picture to my brown locks. I frown. What I had in mind won’t work with my hair’s current color. I dive back in, grab the bleaching kit, and spot a true black. I pull that out, too, holding it up next to the box of purple and smile.
Turning, I see Ms. Ebon is standing in the doorway and nearly jump out of my skin. I bobble the boxes and clutch them to my chest before they have the chance of dropping to the floor. While my heart races at breakneck speed, I stick my nose in the air. I’m not about to apologize for being here—something I should’ve had the luxury of to begin with.
“Let me guess,” she says. “You never got your spot at the salon.”
I want to roll my eyes, but I settle for shaking my head instead. “I didn’t even realize there was such a place until Kinsey came here.”
Ebon’s gaze narrows. If she has an opinion on that topic, she doesn’t share it. I can’t get a handle on whether she’s a friend or not. “I can get the hairdresser if you want.”
My fingers flex against the boxes. I have a suspicion that if she knew what I wanted to do to my hair, she wouldn’t approve. “It’s okay. I’m used to doing it myself. I did back home.”
“It’s no trouble.”
“You sure the academy would want to waste more money on someone who has a time clock above their head?”
Ms. Ebon clicks her tongue. “I understand your mistrust, Miss Adams, but I really am trying to help you. I met with Lydia Greystone today. She approved the return of the Daybreak Pack to their territory for the festivities.”
I blink in surprise. “All of us? Nathan too?”
“If he’s in Daybreak, he’s allowed to attend, yes.”
My heart pangs against my chest. I’ve tried to put him out of my mind. It’s hard to think about him and Sean being in the same place together without guilt settling over me like thick cobwebs.
As if on cue, determination sets in next. It’s not fair that I should feel guilty for what I did when Sean has more than likely been doing the same the whole time I’ve been here.
“I am glad I saw you slip inside,” Ms. Ebon says, smoothing down her narrow skirt. “I was wondering if you were serious about the accusation you placed against your mate yesterday?”
My mouth dries instantly. My tongue is so thick in my mouth that it feels as if I swallowed a bunch of cotton balls. I want to say yes, but dammit, the mistaken loyalty I feel to that asshole shifter keeps me quiet. For the most part. “They dated before we were mated during our first shift. His girlfriend also rejected her mate. Nathan.”
Ms. Ebon nods slowly. She moves her arms up to cross them in front of her. She’s a serious looking woman, but I’m beginning to think more and more that she has a softer side. “I’m not as familiar with your pack laws as I am with my own, Miss Adams. But if they are at all the same, if you find out that they are together, active non-compliance with mate laws would be a major offense in Lunar Pack. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
I take a deep breath and let go of the claw-like grip I have on the boxes of hair dye in my hand. This is the first time someone in charge has hinted that I have to look out for my own interest instead of saying that my one and only duty is to get my mate back.
I bite my lip, trying to keep my emotion in check when she ruins it. “I am sure when you return to Daybreak and have more than the short minutes together that are available at the academy that you’ll be able to find common ground. Shifters can’t resist the pull of their mate, Miss Adams. It’s fate. Undeniable attraction.”
“Do you have a mate, Ms. Ebon?”
All color drains from her face. Sharp cheekbones stick out on her pale-as-death skin. “No,” she states in a way that’s both lifeless and angry.
Sounds like I’ve struck a nerve.
Part of me wants to high-five myself. I’ve been digging up my emotions in this place for a year, and all for nothing. It’s about time someone else was in the hot seat instead of my ass being judged as to why Nathan—
I mean Sean.
Sean.
Fuck. Of course I meant Sean. Why I’ve made no progress with my mate, Sean.
The door opens behind Ms. Ebon, and the both of us freeze. She recuperates quicker than I do. “Oh, Grace. I’m glad you’re here. I have a student that would like her hair colored.”
“No, it’s fine.”
“Miss Adams, sit down,” Ebon demands.
I lick my lips, smirking a little. The hairdresser gazes between the two of us like we’re in a battle of wills, but honestly, my argument isn’t with her. I turn, placing my boxes on the counter, color side out, and then sit in the salon chair.
“Ooh, fun,” Grace says. She comes over, maneuvering her black waves over her shoulder. She grabs my hair and runs her fingers through it. “What were you thinking?”
I explain my idea: Instead of coloring my whole head purple, I imagined black hair underneath with the purple sitting like a crowned layer on top.
She nods, her smile growing wider as I explain it to her. “That’s going to look so awesome! What a change!” She takes the boxes to a ledge on the right and starts working. “So, what’s your name?”
I gaze up to see that Ebon is gone. Relief flows through me, though it sucks that I missed her face when she saw the purple dye. “Mia Adams. Daybreak,” I tell her.
The sound of stirring stops, and Grace turns, regarding me.
“What?” I ask her. It’s as if she knows me or something.
“Sorry, that was rude.” She moves over to me, setting the plastic bowl filled with black dye on the countertop. “I recognize your name. Since I’m staff here, we get periodic emails about who’s enrolled. I learn the names in case they come by my salon.”
I’ve already guessed it before she can finish talking. She’s seen my name for a long damn time. “Yeah,” I say, my voice hoarser than I mean it to be.
“Well, I have one rule in my shop, Mia: We don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to.” She flashes me a pleasant smile, and I instantly like her. I’m used to people forcing the subject of mates on me, so to have a mate-free conversation would be amazing.
She sections off my hair and gets to work. Honestly, I always did okay with my hair, but it’s nice to have someone else do it. I’m hoping it will make the statement that I want it to. My mom will be the only one who’ll have a coronary about it; especially since I’ll be sporting it during the Winter Solstice festivities.
Grace and I have an easy conversation moving forward, despite the fact that everything I’ve known for the past year is wrapped up in Greystone. I’m so out of it when it comes to popular songs and trends, but she never makes me feel like I’ve been living under a rock. By the time she’s washed both the bleach and the black out of my hair, we’re laughing together like old friends.
My gaze widens as I peer at the blonde strands rimming the crown of my head. “I know,” she says. “I’ll hurry up and put the purple in it.”
She sections off my hair, then twists it on top of my head with a clip while she retreats to the counter to mix the dye. We go back and forth on the color until it’s the perfect shade of bright purple. “You know,” I tell her. “I hope this doesn’t offend you, but I didn’t even know Greystone had a salon in it until my friend Kinsey told me.”
Her face puckers. “I’ve noticed some of the advisors don’t bring their students here. It’s sad. It’s not supposed to be a beauty contest or anything, but you know when you go to get your hair done, and maybe put on a little makeup, and you just feel amazing? That’s what the intention of this was.” She lowers her voice. “Some of the advisors have petitioned to cut this from the school’s offerings, but I’ve been trying my hardest to keep it here.”
“Could guys come, too?”
“Yeah, I can cut men’s hair. Hell, I’ll even put eyeliner on a guy.” She nibbles her lip. “That can be hot.”
A picture of Nathan sneaks into my head with eyeliner rimming his gorgeous, dark lashes, and I get what she’s saying. That could look amazing on the right guy.
It would look horrendous on Sean. Absolutely awful.
The hairdresser clears her throat and starts to shift from foot to foot. The agitation coming off her unnerves even me. I’m about to ask her what’s wrong when she lets out a full-body sigh that sounds as if it came not just from her toes but the roots in the ground underneath the cement at our feet. She talks to herself briefly, murmuring unintelligible words, before she meets my gaze in the mirror with a frown. “I lied to you about where I saw your name.” She drops her voice to a whisper. “I mean, I have seen it on the roster for a long time, but I was accidentally cc’d on an email from Lydia to the pack advisors. It was in regard to you.”
Okay. Color me intrigued. Grace never misses a beat as she paints the purple on my strands, making sure they’re drowning in dye.
“I saw that you were being given a time limit, and my heart just broke,” she says, glassy eyes greeting mine as she moves in front of me. Even though we’re in the room alone, her voice is barely audible, and she shifts her gaze from side to side like she expects someone to be listening in on us. “Ever since I got that email, I’ve been thinking about you and this rumor I heard.” She fiddles with the bracelets at her wrist. “I heard there’s an area just outside of Twilight Pack where people are more friendly to rejected mates—Ferals,” she says, lowering her voice even more like she’s cursing in a preschool. “That’s all I know about it. But when I read that email, I thought that if I were you, I’d want information like that. Just in case.”
Shit. Twilight Pack. Their alpha heir is the most notable shifter to have ever been rejected. In fact, there was a rumor that his brother made the heir’s mate reject him just so he could take over their pack.
Pretty fucked up if you ask me, but I wouldn’t put anything past anybody at this point.
“I don’t know how true it is,” Grace says. “You know, forget I said anything.” She raises a shaking hand to put the last of the purple dye on my hair.
“Thank you.” I lock gazes with her in the mirror and smile. “I hope it doesn’t come to that.”
She shakes off the awkwardness. “It won’t, because you’re going to look like a hot rock star as soon as you walk out of this salon.”
