His Unidentified & Untouchable Mate

Preparation (1)

Zahraa POV

Lace was a godsend in the California heat.

I simply couldn’t allow for exposed skin – not with the consequences being so drastic. I was lucky that the party was at the pack house. I was lucky that they’d banned unenlightened human attendees. If an accident happened, it was less likely to backfire.

As we’d planned, Ingrid and I went to lunch together. I told her everything about my meeting with Jacob, and filled her in on what Rowan had asked of me at the van. She was more excited at both prospects than I was.

Now, I was putting on a dress we’d picked together. It felt bold, for sure. The red dress was strapless, and the skirt fell to the floor. My arms were covered in black lace, my matching gloves set aside for now.

“How does it fit?” Ingrid called, from where she stood anxiously behind a folding partition screen.

“Like a glove,” I admitted, stepping out.

Ingrid’s smile faded. “You hate it.”

“No, no,” I smoothed the fabric over my hips. The dress fit my curves almost as though it’d been tailored to, and I had to admit I loved the feel of it. “It’s just… going to be eye-catching. You know how I hate that.”

Pity was an awful, useless emotion. Seeing it reflected in my friend’s eyes was a bitter pill, and I turned, hanging a white cloth over her mirror, so I didn’t have to see into it. “Sorry,” I breathed, though I wasn’t sure what I should be feeling sorry for, exactly. “I just – you know at these events there’s always one or two wolves that wants to get handsy, and then they want their mouth on mine, and then the pain, and…”

“I know,” she said, grasping my shoulders and pushing me into the chair. “I know, it’s just that… well. f**k ‘em! These parties are all about standing out and looking gorgeous.” She lowered her head so it rested on my shoulder, “Besides, you never know. What if it’s you?”

The feeling made my stomach erupt in butterflies. I made myself scoff. “What, me with him? Unlikely.” I pushed her head away gently. “What if it’s you? Are you prepared for that?”

“Rejection on the spot!” she declared proudly. “I’ve been practicing the speech in my head for a month now.”

“How cold of you,” I laughed.

She fell silent, grabbing a brush and a spray bottle. She wetted my hair to run the brush through it, humming in that way she did when she was doing some deep thinking. “How’s therapy lately?”

I should’ve expected a gut-punch when she went quiet like that. “Fine,” I replied, trying not to let my voice become too clipped. “Just… the usual stuff.”

“No luck with the mirror thing, then?”

My heart clenched. “Is this your way of saying you don’t want to do my hair for parties anymore?” I joked, hoping I could brush past the subject.

“Of course not,” she replied. “I love playing with your hair. I just…”

When she didn’t continue, I sighed. “I should just be over it by now, right?”

“No,” she said too quickly, as if brushing past it. “No, it’s just that… well. We’re eighteen now, Z. What if I find my mate, and he’s from another pack? Who will do your hair then?”

“In that case, I’ll grow it out and invest in scrunchies. Or maybe finally get a hair straightener,” I replied, dryly.

Ingrid hummed again, deep in another thought.

Feeling sore, I muttered, “It’s not like I want it to be like this. We’ve tried just about everything – but when I look in a mirror, I just… seize up. Panic.”

Ingrid continued going through my hair. “Maybe you’re just the shittiest vampire,” she joked. “I suppose it’s just another factor to the mysterious Zahraa Snow.”

“I suppose,” I replied, though I felt raw.

She must have noticed, because I got a full hug from behind. “Sorry for bringing it up,” she sighed. “I just worry about you – especially if I think about leaving.”

“I know.” Thoughts stirred in me; the ones I hadn’t dared speak aloud. But now, with the meeting behind me and Jacob and Rowan putting in a good word for me… “Maybe if you leave, I’ll follow you,” I remarked passively, hoping Ingrid might not notice.

She stopped brushing for a minute. “After all the fighting you’ve done to stay here? You’d move away?”

I cautiously turned my head to catch a glance of her expression to find it was exactly what I’d expected: her brows pinched, her lips curved in a tight frown, those seafoam green eyes fixated solely on me. I turned back, so I wouldn’t have to see that look of concern anymore. “I was considering it anyway,” I confessed. “I even got accepted to another college.”

“What?!” Ingrid howled. “How is this the first time I’m hearing this?!”

“It’s Plan C at best,” I tried to sound dismissive.

“Where?” she asked, putting herself between me and the vanity, putting down the brush and the bottle to cross her arms over her chest like a disappointed mother.

There was no putting this genie back in the bottle.

“…London.”

“What?!”

I massaged my temples – Ingrid could be so loud when she was upset. “Like I said – Plan C.”

“Why?!” she demanded. “Why would you even feel like you needed such a drastic plan, so far away?”

I looked at my lap, unable to see the look of hurt and betrayal on Ingrid’s face. “I just… thought that I’ve been here for eleven years, with the Wild Fangs, and I haven’t learned anything about myself or my family. So… maybe I should try something new. Somewhere new.”

“Why London, though?”

I sighed. “I… I thought if I were going to go off alone, without pack support, there was no need for me to base my major off of what the pack needs.”

Her eyes widened, her mouth hanging open in a near comical look of shock. “You said you wanted to do cybersecurity!”

“Of course I did,” I spat, “I would’ve said anything for the right to stay. And it was your mom who told me what the pack needs most.”

She took a deep breath, tilting her head up and exhaling it at the ceiling. Aiming her narrowed eyes back at me, she asked, “Okay. Fine. I’ll bite. What major did you want to pursue in London?”

I gulped. “Architecture.”

Ingrid sat there, quiet for a while, then picked up her bottle and brush. “Okay. One last question, and then we’ve got a party to get you ready for.”

I waited with bated breath as she drew out the silence.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” she asked, and I could hear the hurt in her voice.

I paused a moment, picking the words that felt the most right. “I was afraid…” I took a deep breath. “I felt like it’d be speaking it into existence. Like, if I had defined plans in place, or places to go that I wouldn’t have the option to stay anymore. And… it’s hard to decide to leave.” I felt as though a weight lifted by telling Ingrid.

She was, really and truly, my best friend. If there were ever someone I wanted to confess such a thing to, it was her.

She resumed her work on my hair, and the silence was so thick and tense that I thought I’d fractured our friendship forever.

Then, with a tiny sigh, she said, “Thanks for telling me. I know… I know this has been hard on you. And, for the record…” she came around again, offering me a hug without putting down her tools. “There’s nowhere you could go that would ruin our friendship. If you leave, it just means we’ll have to video call every day.”