She took a sip of her coffee. “Just trust me—Shaya’s no fragile flower. Don’t forget I sparred with her all the time growing up and taught her all my combat moves. And do you remember how talented I am with knives?”
How could Trey forget? When he’d pissed her off a few weeks ago, she’d hurled five knives at him—all of which buried themselves in the wall around him, framing his body. “Yeah.”
“Shaya taught me that.”
Dominic’s brows flew up. “Shaya?”
“And you remember those stories Caleb told you about how my ex-boyfriends often found their cars had been vandalized?” Caleb was a childhood friend from Taryn and Shaya’s old pack. Trey nodded. “That wasn’t me. Shaya’s good with a bat—thanks to Caleb teaching her how to play baseball. She’s real good with a rifle too.”
Marcus gaped. “You’re kidding me.”
“Her dad’s actually human, so he knows what it’s like to be targeted in a pack for being weaker. He didn’t want that for Shaya, so he taught her a few things. Being a Navy SEAL, he had plenty of stuff to teach her. Plus, he’s not totally stable.”
Dante chuckled. “No wonder I sensed a serious amount of impishness in that girl—there’s almost as much as there is in my girl.”
Jaime gave him a mock scowl and flicked her long sable hair at his face, making him puff it away. “I guess it’s an advantage that Shaya looks so sweet.”
Taryn’s smile widened. “Yeah, everyone’s fooled by Shaya’s innocent exterior. They never see the mad coming. If Nick does manage to find her, he’s in for a few surprises.”
CHAPTER TWO
SIX MONTHS LATER
I won’t aim this hairspray at her eyes. I won’t aim this hairspray at her eyes.
Shaya Critchley chanted it to herself over and over as she made the finishing touches to her client’s hair, pointedly ignoring the irritating woman at her side who was delivering snide remark after snide remark. It wasn’t that Shaya gave a shit about the peroxide blonde’s opinion. It was kind of hard to care what a person thought of her when said person’s face was so caked in makeup that she looked like a warrior going into battle. But after a long, busy day spent mostly on her feet, Shaya simply didn’t have the tolerance required to deal with Paisley right now.
Each of her fellow hairstylist’s insults had been delivered with the most patronizing tone and the falsest smile, and the message was clear: Shaya’s hair was too red, her body was too thin, and her skin was too pale. Yeah, well, at least Shaya wasn’t smeared in fake, blotchy, unevenly applied tan. The girl looked like she’d rolled in Doritos.
Having Paisley hanging over her shoulder as she worked only served to increase Shaya’s annoyance, and she had a feeling that Paisley was well aware of that. And why would she be so set on driving Shaya insane? Simple: Although Paisley had been working at the salon for four years, Shaya had more clients than her. Sensing Paisley’s distaste, Shaya’s wolf bared her teeth—she could be sassy and snippy like that. Though her wolf wasn’t a fan of confrontation or the type to begin brawls, she was quick to defend herself or those she cared about and had little tolerance for petty people like Paisley.
If Paisley knew that Shaya was a half-shifter, her attitude toward Shaya would be even worse. The girl and her family were all strong supporters of the human extremist groups that had been calling for certain laws to be put in place to monitor, control, and isolate shifters. There would be a court hearing in four months’ time to address the matter. If the human extremists were successful, all shifters would be chipped, placed on a register like child molesters, forbidden from mating with humans, and confined to their own territory. It also meant that any lone shifters would be forced to live outside human society in what had been referred to as “gated communities”—it was simply a way to contain and isolate them.
As such, Shaya had ensured that no one other than Kent—her boss, friend, and a fellow half-shifter—knew what she was. Not even the local shifters were aware of her mixed blood, as she had ensured she was never close enough for them to sense it. Why? Easy. Members of the Sequoia Pack had a nasty habit of “disappearing.” Given that their Alpha was a drug lord, it wasn’t difficult to guess who was responsible.
“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 g*y 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.