“How’s that for you, Mrs. H?” asked Shaya, angling a handheld mirror at the back of the middle-aged woman’s head so that the reflection would be seen in the large mirror opposite.
Mrs. Harley turned her head from side to side, touching her perfectly straight dark hair as she examined the reflection. Then she shot Shaya a beaming smile as she stood. “How you manage to make my hair look so smooth when it’s usually like straw, I have no idea, but I love you for it.”
Shaya laughed, removing the black waterproof cape from Mrs. Harley’s shoulders. “It’s not like straw.”
“Oh it is, honey. Not like your beautiful hair. What I’d give to have curls like yours.”
Paisley made a face at that comment, while Kent nodded his agreement and reached out to tug on one of the corkscrew curls. “They just make you want to play with them.”
Shaya scowled playfully as she swatted his hand away. He did that a lot—mostly because he knew it irritated her. If he wasn’t such a good friend, she might have chopped off his spiky blond hair. Years ago, she and Kent had studied hairstyling together at college, and they had clicked instantly—not sexually, though, seeing as he was gay and all.
They had never once lost contact over the following years, and he’d asked her to visit him plenty of times. When she had called six months ago and asked if he would allow her to stay with him for a while, he’d been delighted. More perceptive than Shaya was comfortable with, Kent had immediately sensed that it wasn’t simply a social visit. She had admitted that she was hiding from someone but hadn’t wanted to say more—she had promised herself that making a new start would include not dwelling on having been rejected by the Prick of the Century, otherwise known as her true mate, Nick Axton.
Being as fabulous as he was, Kent hadn’t pushed her for more information. Instead, he had helped her find a place to live and had given her a job at his hair salon. In other words, she owed him big-time. But she still often found herself yearning to go back to California. She missed all her friends, especially Taryn, Jaime, Dominic, and Caleb. She often spoke with them over the phone or Skype, but it wasn’t the same. And, though she would never admit it to Taryn because her friend would come to collect her, she wasn’t happy.
It wasn’t just because of Nick’s rejection. Despite having a job, it didn’t exactly pay well. Although the home she rented was cozy, it was also slowly falling apart. Shaya did not specialize in DIY. Of course it was her landlord’s responsibility to fix the problems, but he was extremely good at dodging that responsibility. Then there was her hypochondriac of a mother and her constant calls to deal with. Each call was the same—she would moan about all her “ailments,” complain that no one cared, send Shaya on a guilt trip for leaving, and then become insulting when Shaya refused to return. It wasn’t that the woman was pissed about not knowing Shaya’s location or even that she missed her. She didn’t even care that Nick hadn’t claimed her. The woman just didn’t like not having someone to fuss over her and cater to her every whim. How nice was that. Shaya had taken to ignoring the calls altogether.
And then, of course, there was the fact that she missed the social touch her packmates had always provided. Her wolf, too, missed that closeness. Nonetheless, Shaya had no intention of returning to California. No intention of ever again coming face-to-face with Nick, even if he was the other half of her soul.
Shaya had already lost part of her soul before she was born. That was exactly what Mika, her twin who had died in the womb, had been—an integral part of her. All her life, Shaya had felt an emptiness inside like a part of her was missing…because it was. She had always felt the sense of being “alone” much more acutely—something that had been worsened by the incident that happened when she was four.
The guilt had lingered deep inside—guilt that she had survived and hadn’t been able to save her twin, despite how little sense it made. “Vanishing twin syndrome” people called it. During her teens, that guilt had led her down a path of self-sabotage as Shaya had felt that she hadn’t deserved to be happy. With support, she had eventually given herself permission to live a full and healthy life, honoring her twin and using her as her motivation. But the pain, the emptiness, was still there.
Losing Nick before she’d even had the chance to know him was exactly like it had been with her twin. She hadn’t had the chance to know Mika, to have a life with her…and now she would never have a life with her mate either.
Her wolf was going through a similar pain. She didn’t understand why Nick hadn’t staked his claim, and she viewed his actions as a rejection. But although her wolf was angry with Nick for rejecting her, she was also angry with Shaya. Her wolf still wanted to be in close proximity to her mate, not understanding that Nick had no intention of ever claiming her and that he would make life difficult. Awkward animal.
Snapping out of her ponderings, Shaya walked to the reception desk to say good-bye to Mrs. Harley, who was at that moment taking her receipt from Paisley. When Mrs. Harley tried to give Shaya a most generous tip, she shook her head. “That’s too much.”
“Honey, I’ve been going to have my hair done regularly for a long time. Usually, my stylist patiently listens as I moan and groan about all the trouble going on in my life—things that were always difficult to talk about with family members.”
“You don’t moan,” objected Shaya. If anything, the woman was a delight.
“Not around you,” agreed Mrs. Harley. “Because for the two hours that I’m with you, I totally forget all about my problems and find myself laughing and joking with you. What’s more, you always have me walking out of here feeling good about myself. So, honey, you will take this tip.” She forced the large tip into Shaya’s hand, winked, and walked right on out the door.
“You have a way with people,” Kent told her. “They like being around you, even seem to gravitate toward you. Considering you haven’t been here very long, you’ve built yourself a nice clientele. You should be proud of yourself. I’ve never known anyone to form connections with people so easily.”
Yeah, she was quite good at forming connections with people—lasting ones, in fact. She just had a really hard time forming deep connections. Although she craved one, she was too distrustful and guarded to allow it to happen. Was that really any wonder when her first real relationship had been an absolute mind-fuck?
She’d been just sixteen when she met Mason. She had been infatuated with him, practically worshipped him. He had told her he felt the same, that they were true mates. Still plagued by a feeling of emptiness after losing her twin, she had been so desperate to feel some sort of connection that she’d bought it hook, line, and sinker. Later she had realized that she had given her virginity to an asshole who liked to target young females and convince them they were true mates.
After that, she had flitted from guy to guy, never letting anything deeper develop. Not that she’d been a slut or anything, but she hadn’t been in a serious relationship—determined to wait for her true mate…a guy she had spent the past half year trying desperately to hate. She was failing miserably with that. How could she possibly hate her mate, even if he was a prick?
Well, at least she didn’t cry herself to sleep anymore. That was an improvement. She’d even started dating again. Not that the dates had amounted to anything, as apparently she was flypaper for losers lately. The world seemed to be against her meeting a decent guy. As much as it would make sense for Shaya to want to keep things simple and stick with meaningless encounters or short affairs after Nick hurt her the way he had, she wanted more than that.