Page 1 of Cupid's Pack

ONE

QUINN

“Do you think I would look cute with bangs?” My sister, Arielle, sweeps into my work studio with the front pieces of her pitch-black hair folded in the shape of faux bangs.

I let go of Indie’s golden-blonde locks and swing around toward the door, pointing my scissors at Arielle. “For the last time, absolutely not. The last time you talked me into cutting your bangs, you told me you hated me afterward and then hid in your room crying for a week.”

“I’m older now!” she protests. Her face screws up a little, cheeks coloring pink in a way that melts my heart. But only the tiniest bit. I’d do anything for her, but I’m not ready for a nuclear meltdown.

Indie and I share an amused look in the mirror when I turn back toward her. We both remember that the bangs fiasco was only three years ago. Arielle might be older, but not by much, and not enough to convince me to make that mistake again.

“Why don’t you order fake bangs online first and try them out?” Indie suggests.

Arielle purses her lips thoughtfully, and I fight the urge to lean down and wrap my arms around Indie’s neck in thanks.

My hero, my wolf tells my best friend across the silent mind link connection between us. Already I know a lot of tears have been saved with the suggestion. I’m sure my mom won’t be thrilled about us encouraging Arielle’s online shopping habit, but maybe I can get the front-gate guards to intercept the package when it comes so we can collect it in secret later. What’s the harm in one little package if it saves me a month’s worth of headaches?

The tinkling of the bell above the door to the studio pulls my attention away from Indie again, and I regard my mother as she strolls toward us in a stiff pink dress. “I should have known I’d find both of you in here,” she says easily, and a slight smile tugs at her lips. I try not to let it hurt my feelings that she’s already done her hair, a stray sticking out of the side of the updo. I’ve asked her a hundred times to let me help with her hair when she has important meetings.

Pushing away the urge to feel sorry for myself, I grab the hairspray and make my way to her. “I’m finishing up Indie’s layers. Do you need us?”

“Yes, actually.” I’m surprised to hear her admit it so openly. I’ve always helped a lot, but since my dad died four years ago, she’s been reluctant to ask. I wind up helping behind her back, despite the fact that it can be thankless work.

But that’s what families do, right?

“The guards are sending a young woman up for our help, but I have a special appointment arriving soon,” Mom continues as I spritz her hair and tuck the flyaway piece into the updo. My hands still as she continues, “Can you see that the woman is taken care of? If it’s anything you can’t handle, have her sit tight and I’ll deal with her when my appointment is over.”

Fighting to keep my face neutral as she speaks is a testament to the control I’ve wrestled over my expressions in the years since my father passed. I’m surprised to hear her speak so clinically of a woman coming to ask for her help, but it’s not my place to question her, so I choose my words carefully.

“Who’s the appointment?” Arielle blurts out with none of the tact I planned on.

Mom nervously rubs her lips together for a moment before she answers. “His name is Jakob MacKay of the Red Ash Pack.”

“Is it an appointment or a date?” Arielle asks, her voice laced with suspicion. I press my lips together tightly, lost somewhere between laughing at my sister’s ridiculousness and chastising her before Mom does.

“Arielle!” Mom’s sharp voice slices through the air, and Arielle wilts a little, shoulders slumping and eyes falling dutifully toward the floor. “It isnotthat kind of appointment. Jakob MacKay has paid a large sum for us to find him a mate urgently. There’s nothing inappropriate about it.”

“Sorry,” Arielle mutters.

She doesn’t look up from the floor, but the way her shoulders straighten tells me my precocious little sister isn’tthatsorry. I press my lips even tighter together, lest the chuckle bubbling in my throat actually spills over. I know better than to laugh, but Arielle’s antics are one of the reasons I love her so damn much—there’s never a dull moment with her around. Much to Mom’s chagrin.

My momdoeshave quite the voice for chastising us. It’s sharp and stern all at once, and she’s never been afraid to pull it on us when needed. Despite the chastising tone, I notice her cheeks tinge the slightest shade of pink. She’s not angry about Arielle’s question; she’s embarrassed by it. I can’t help but wonder if that means there’s someone Momisdating if she’s that sensitive about the topic. Admittedly, it’d be a nice change of pace.

There’s no time to ask about it now, though. She’s already trying to walk away, knowing Arielle and I will handle the woman coming our way. After all, that’s what we do—follow the orders of our Luna, no matter what.

“Wait.” I touch Mom’s shoulder to stop her so I can use the hairspray to tame errant strands on the other side of her head. She looks down at me with affection shining in her eyes as I fuss over her. “There, perfect.”

I was thinking the same thing about you, her wolf tells me. She runs her hand across my cheekbone.

I want to revel in the tender moment. They’ve seemed fewer and far between these past few months. I can’t help but begrudgingly feel that the more I do, the less my mom seems to notice. In the beginning, I blamed it on her grieving, but it’s only seemed to get worse with time.

Still, I get more of her affection than Arielle does. I glance over at my younger sister to find she’s looking pointedly away from the moment between our mom and I.

Guilt gnaws at my gut, followed quickly by the heavy feeling of shame. Annoyance follows at the very end, and I chew the inside of my cheek, trying and failing to convince myself that it’s notmyfault Mom has been harder to handle the past few years.

“Hey, Arielle?” I turn my focus to my sister, ignoring my mom’s exit. “Why don’t you finish up Indie’s hair for me and I’ll go see to our visitor?”

Her eyes light up, and relief loosens the heavy emotions in my stomach. I grin as she asks, “Are you sure it’s okay?” She looks hopefully at Indie who gives her two thumbs up and sneaks a wink my way.

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