Page 14 of Untamed

“Well, I’ve never worn makeup before. I was kind of hoping you could teach me how to put it on. Maybe a natural look so I don’t, like, stand out?”

“So the exact opposite of me?” Grace asks, striking a model pose in the mirror and pursing her lips.

I laugh. “I’m not sure I could pull off pink.” I cringe because I honestly don’t know what I could pull off. “I just don’t want people staring at me, you know?”

“I hear you, girl. I got this.” She turns to the corner of the room where a whole beauty bar awaits. Her gaze tracks back and forth from my face to different colors and then she returns with a whole mess of things I only know by name from TV.

She goes through step-by-step, keeping the look minimal like I asked. She doesn’t just put it on for me, she teaches me how to do it myself. She applies the makeup to the left side of my face while I do the right using her technique. When we’re finished, I stare in the mirror at someone who looks like an upgraded version of me. A slightly refreshed, invigorated version that’s somehow still me.

Grace runs her finger under the side of my lip where I messed up a smidge of the natural red color. “There,” she finishes. “You’re so pretty, Kinsey. You were already pretty before, now you just have a little snaz added.” She drops my new makeup items into a bag and hands it to me. “Good luck getting your man back.”

She spins and leaves, and I’m left frowning at her through the mirror. I’d somehow forgotten I was in here for Jonah. It felt like I was at some luxury spa, and here I am, being thrust back into reality. “I didn’t do this for Jonah,” I say to no one in particular.

“I know you didn’t,” Ms. Ebon states. “Like I said, this was for you. Come on, we have other things to do today.”

I swing the bag by my side as we walk from the room. There are a few stragglers in the hallway once again. They all stare at me, and this time my cheeks bloom, most likely darkening the very little blush we applied.

I spend the rest of the meeting with Ms. Ebon reading what else Jonah said in the paperwork. She tells me it’s a way of getting to know him without all the pack pressure surrounding us.

At odds with her words, I don’t actually feel any pack pressure. All I feel is distrust and hurt.

His words on the sheet in precise, careful handwriting only eases my worries a little. He’s quite open and authentic, which makes me glad I filled it out the same way. His only real complaint is that I don’t act as if I’m in a pack. Our initial meeting is going to be an eye-opener because I’m not going to be quiet when we have that conversation. I didn’t do anything wrong, and I won’t have a problem telling him so.

If they want me to lie to get into Jonah’s good graces, that’s not happening.

7

When I get back to the Lunar and Daybreak wing, I peer down its length. I don’t know how many Daybreak wolves are here, but I know I’m the lone Lunar. Dozens of doors line this hallway, and I’ll be happy if most of them are empty. In a way, though, it feels like I’m secluded again, singled out for being different.

My nose twitches when I open my door. Jonah’s scent is everywhere, emanating from the closet. There have only been a few times in my life when I haven’t appreciated my superior sense of smell. This is one of them.

Placing my new makeup on the desk, I drop to my bed and disregard the enticing aroma. I need to get some Greystone Academy manual reading done since I lied to Ms. Ebon and told her I’d already started.

But before I begin, I turn my phone on, expecting there to be texts from Mom and Dad. I’m not disappointed. They have always been the hovering kind. They believed they could shelter me from the shitshow that was my life. In a way, it was nice to have them always asking me how I was and making sure nothing happened at school that day. But when I got into my preteens, parents sticking their noses into school situations only made the bullying worse. According to my wolfpeers, not only did I deserve to go Feral, now I was a tattletale. So, my parents haven’t known what I’ve dealt with as I got older. The constant name-calling, the ostracism. I kept it all to myself. I think they wondered why I never had friends over, but they were probably happy about that, too. One less person around meant one less person to explain things to.

Instead of answering each of their messages, I decide to call the house phone. My mom picks up like she’s just run a mile. “Kinsey?”

“Yeah, it’s me.” I shake my head. My mom has this uncanny ability to know when I’m calling. When I was younger, I thought it was magic that she always knew when I was calling. But when I got older, I realized it was because no one else ever calls them.

Time drags on like an anchor trudging through sludge while I wait for her answer. “How are they treating you?”

“Well,” I breathe, “my advisor is okay. I think. She’s going to do her best to get Jonah to accept me.” My face burns as I say it, and I can’t mask the mixture of horror, disbelief, and uncertainty. Especially not to my mother.

“I can’t imagine what you’re going through.” A choked sound bubbles in the back of her throat. “Your dad and I never wanted this for you.”

Well, of course not. No parent would want this for their child. It just is. Instead of going into that, I change the subject. “I made a friend. She’s from Daybreak. She’s been here a while.”

“I don’t know if making friends is a good idea, honey.”

I bite my lip and roll toward the wall. As usual, I evade and avoid. “The rooms are nice, and I have my own bathroom,” I whisper. “We have to wear a uniform.”

“Kinsey, what are they telling you?” Mom asks, as if she didn’t hear what I said.

My stomach twists into a tangled knot and squeezes. I was trying to avoid this conversation, but seeing as it involves the Pack Council, I don’t think I can. If my parents are going to be investigated, too, they should know about it ahead of time. “Well, there are two different things. Jonah says he rejected the bond because I never tried to make myself part of the pack. Since his future job relies on the pack alpha, he wanted me to come here to reform.”

“And the second?” Mom asks, and I’m no emotional expert like Ms. Ebon, but I can guess she’s already figured it out.

I sigh. “Mom, you know. My advisor let me read the form from the Council, and their opinion on my bond is that I have questionable lineage.”

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