Page 7 of Untamed

She stands briskly. “Excellent. Let me show you around, then.” She reaches for the file folder in my lap and leaves me to take the thick notebook of rules and regulations. A painted picture of Greystone Academy covers the front. It’s a shame such a horrible place is so freaking pretty.

I stuff the booklet in the lone book bag I brought with me. I was told to pack a separate bag that would be forwarded to my room. Despite myself, a nugget of intrigue blooms in my stomach. I’ve never been away from home. Never been away from the harsh comments and constant arguments. This seems like a way to start a brand new life.

Ms. Ebon opens the door, and I follow her out into the hall. “Pick up your discarded clothes, Miss Walker.”

Trailing the clipped sound of her heels bouncing off the hall, I pick up the scraps of fabric, placing everything in my book bag, and race to catch up to her.

She shows me the common areas first. The cafeteria and gymnasium are huge, at least five times the size of Lunar Pack School. The juxtaposition of old world with modern flares makes everything seem so foreign. “No one is allowed on the first floor after seven p.m.,” Ms. Ebon instructs. “There are common areas in the different wings if you would like to socialize. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you this, but there is no sexual fraternization of any kind. If you’re caught doing so, both of you will automatically be cast out. It’s not a problem we usually have since your instinct will forbid it, but it has happened.”

“Well, there goes my plan for tonight,” I joke.

Ms. Ebon stops, and I almost run into her backside. She turns yellow eyes on me. “That is the worst threat to our kind. I don’t find that funny at all.”

I nod once, feeling the dread in the pit of my stomach boil up. Trust me, I get the whole we-need-to-mate-with-our-bonded-one-so-we-can-prolong-our-race thing. It’s another reason why I’m certain I’m the product of a mated pair. If I wasn’t, I should’ve come out fucked up or something, right? Otherwise, what’s the big deal? Despite my inner beliefs, her words ring around in my head. Could anyone really blame these wolves for taking solace in another when they’ve just been through the biggest hurt of their life?

I guess in Greystone Academy’s eyes, you can.

“Noted,” I mutter, slinking back. I barely listen as she points out several more rooms in the tour.

Her reaction to my joke is just more evidence that I don’t actually belong. No one thinks like me.

4

Ms. Ebon leaves me outside a room in the Lunar Pack wing, handing me a rather modern-looking key despite the castle-like appearance of the corridor. The echo of her retreating heels bounces off the walls as she descends the winding, stone staircase, leaving me alone to peer inside my new digs.

It’s bigger than my bedroom.

The bag I packed sits inside the doorway. Against the far wall, lying horizontally, is a full-size bed, and to my left sits a simple, dark wood desk. I suppose I’ll be able to study whatever the academy feels necessary to learn in order for me to win Jonah’s heart here. I fake gag, and my wolf practically rolls her eyes at me. At least she’s paying attention instead of hiding in her own self-misery. To my right, a big TV is attached to the wall above a massive dresser. Adjacent to that is a closet and a door to my very own en suite. I don’t know why I’d expected a roommate to be waiting for me. Maybe because that’s how they depict dorms in movies? Thankfully, I don’t have to deal with being around someone twenty-four seven on top of getting my heart broken.

Honestly, this room is ten times nicer than home. My parents are so far down the pack line that we have the worst house in Lunar. It’s a small two-bedroom surrounded by woods. It’s furthest from the center of town where all the other wolves live, but I’ve always loved how out of the way it is, like a built-in sanctuary. Plus, I love the expanse of land. There’s so much space for growing my plants. I might have a bit of a green thumb, which is as weird for shifters my age as it is for humans.

Oh well. No one has ever accused me of conforming. Obviously.

Lunar Pack linens stretch across the mattress, our moon crest taking up the foot area of the charcoal comforter. The midnight-blue sheets are the perfect complement. I trail my fingers over the soft fabric, then plop my book bag down in the center. It’s late, and I’ve had a shitty day. My eyes are itchy and begging to close now that everything is settling down. The shifts are getting to me.

Twice in one day on my first day. That’s unheard of.

On top of that, instead of celebrating with my parents, I was sent away. At home, others are commemorating becoming one with their wolves, and for some, their new mates. I was so preoccupied with finding my own, and subsequently being rejected, that I didn’t pay attention to who else mated.

In my world, today is one of the most important days of the year. Graduation from our primary studies is coupled with becoming one with our shifter form. It’s symbolic to becoming adults. Even I was looking forward to my initial shift, and I don’t look forward to anything pack related.

For a few minutes, my wolf and I were gleefully happy together romping through the woods. But when we caught Jonah’s scent, everything changed. He sent us into a spiral, leaving us at odds again. Since I was a pup and she started to awaken inside me, we’ve fought. She wants to belong to the pack, while I’ve shied away because I knew what waited for me if I tried.

I unpack my things into the dresser, and in the process, find black socks and shirts donning the Greystone Academy crest already folded inside. I don’t think much of it until I move to the closet. A whole slew of skirts and sweaters with the same crest are tucked inside. I pause, my fingers tightening around my one fancy shirt from home. “No fucking way.”

I immediately bring out the booklet from my bag, scanning through the index until I find the dreaded word—uniform. I quickly turn to page seventeen, and sure enough, we’re required to wear matching attire. A pleated skirt paired with a polo and a sweater in the winter.

A knock sounds on my door that I don’t recognize at first because I’m in shock. It gets louder, and I march toward it, tugging the door open, prepared to tell Ms. Ebon exactly what I think about school uniforms. A petite, brown-haired girl has her hand up, preparing to knock again. When she sees me, her eyes round.

Instantly, my fury drains away and is replaced with apprehension. “Oh, sorry.”

She chuckles. “Let me guess. You found the uniforms.”

I track my gaze down her torso to find she’s wearing the same sweats I am but with a Hello Kitty shirt. Prior experiences with shifters my own age have made me standoffish, so I narrow my eyes, waiting for her to talk first.

This new girl is undeterred. “I’m Mia,” she tells me. “Daybreak Pack.” She hikes her thumb over her shoulder, indicating the far end of the hall. “I’ve been waiting for you to get here.” Pulling out a basket from behind her, she shoves it between us. A box of tissues, an inordinate amount of chocolate, and a glittery unicorn journal are all packed prettily inside.

“What’s this?”

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