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Dammit.
Four years without a single hair mask. Not a surprise. It wasn’t like Dusk knew what good hair products were. The issue was, I had an omega now.
My hair couldn’tliterallybe matted.
I had to talk to her at some point—properly, actually, talk to her. I’d woken in a state of panic, the tail end of a rut in my system, and every time I caught sight of her all I wanted to do was jump her bones. By the way her scent hit the air every time she looked at me, she wanted the same.
Maybe talking was overrated.
She was mine. We were going to be fine.
I tensed with a snarl as the hairbrush snagged again.
“Dammit.”
But I jumped as I caught sight of a glittering golden flash in the mirror. I spun to see her at the doorway, peering in curiously. My heart thundered out of control as her scentbreezed in, white petals of nightshade like a cool breeze on a summer’s day.
She stepped toward me, fists bunched in her T-shirt.
I tugged at the brush.
Thoroughlystuck.
Well.
Shit.
She reached me, eyes wide as her gaze flickered from my face to the brush, something nervous in her expression.
I tugged at the brush again.
Nope.
This was the first time we’d been around each other without something fucking insane going on. Literally, kind of our first actual… meeting. This was the worst romantic introduction in the history of ever. Period.
“Uh…” I trailed off, totally lost for words. I didn’t get nervous around girls, but she was so fucking pretty. Her nose had a cute curve to it, and wrinkled adorably when she was snarling at Decebal earlier. Her cheeks almost always had a little blush of pink, and her eyes. I could get lost in her eyes. I had. I remembered the first moments, an angel with golden eyes.
She was still staring at me, then at the brush, and her scent was getting oddly… possessive.
She lifted her hand, then drew back, rapping her knuckles against each other anxiously like she was about to do something she wasn’t sure about.
“You’re… having hair trouble?” she asked. Her eyes shone—and when had her pupils blown that much? Even in the bond I felt her tumbling far from the intensity she’d had when she was studying. If I had to name it, I’d say she was on the edge of feral.
I nodded.
Another wildly strange beat passed, and a smile wobbled on her lip for a moment. Then she leaned up and drew her jaw alongmy cheek so gently I wouldn’t have known what it was—until nightshade drowned me.
That was a scent mark.
Then she had me by the arm and was dragging me from the bathroom. She stopped me in front of the bed and was making me sit rather aggressively.
What was going on?
Then she got to work, plucking strands of my hair from the hairbrush. Even more oddly, little purrs kept rumbling in her chest.
Once she was done, she scent marked me again and began to brush my hair gently from the ends to the roots. It was going to take a while, but she didn’t seem to mind.
A number of times I opened my mouth to speak, then shut it. I didn’t need to. This was fine, even if I had no idea what was going on.
