“Fine, but if you’re questioning becomes too much for Dasani, I’ll stop you,” Winter said. He pulled Dasani closer, rubbing his cheek over the side of his mate’s face. His heart was heavy that all of Dasani’s long and beautiful hair was gone. There was nothing left but short strands that stuck out in every direction and one large section that hung down in Dasani’s face.
Egbar was going to pay for this. The Shadow elf better hope that the Ultionem found him first because, if Winter got his hands on the man, he was going to tear Egbar apart limb from limb.
Chapter Eight
Dasani stared at himself in the bathroom mirror. His hair was gone, shorn so close that he had cuts where the shears had gotten too close to his scalp. Patches of hair were longer in some places, shorter in others. A tight knot formed in his throat as his eyes stung with unshed tears. He was a hot mess. He’d been at Winter’s for a few days now, and this was only the second time he’d taken a look in the mirror.
How could Winter bear to look at him? Not only had he lost his connection to his mother, but he was also shamed in front of his mate.
Never had Dasani hated his father more. The bruises, the physical abuse at the hands of Egbar, that was terrible, but he’d recovered. Dasani did not believe he would recover from this. The wounds were already healing after a couple of days of rest. He doubted his hair would ever be long again.
The only bright spot in all of this was that Ahm had taken the bracelet off of Dasani’s wrist. It had felt more like a shackle, and Dasani was glad to be rid of the thing.
When someone knocked on the bathroom door, he ignored the intruding sound. Dasani didn’t want to talk to anyone—especially not Winter. He continued to stare at his reflection in the mirror, instead. Seeing his hair this short was equivalent to being horribly scarred—to him at least. He felt like a freakish mutant. He looked like a freakish mutant. The tears stung at his eyes, and Dasani used the palms of his shaky hands to wipe at them.
“We know you’re in there, Dasani,” someone said through the door. Dasani didn’t recognize the voice. “Now, you can either come out or we can come in, but it’s gonna happen, buddy. You just have to decide if you want an audience or not ’cause I can scream loud enough to get every shifter in a five-mile radius here in under thirty sec—”
Dasani yanked the bathroom door open. “Who are you, and why are you so evil?”
The greyish-green eyes on the blond twinkled with mischief as he smiled brightly at Dasani. “I’m Kiki.”
Dasani frowned. “Kinky?”
“That, too.” The man laughed as he grabbed Dasani’s arm and pulled him out of the bathroom. Dasani’s already dim spirit took an even bigger nosedive when he spotted another man stretched out on the end of his bed.
“Who are you?”
“Spencer.”
That was better than Kinky.
“Why are you here?”
The impish grin that stretched across Spencer’s face was just as scary as the one on Kiki’s face. Dasani took a step back. He wasn’t sure why these men were in Winter’s bedroom, and why they’d brought a red duffel bag and a full-length mirror, but he wanted them gone. “What do you want?”
“Why, honey,” said the blond as he winked, “we’re here to give you a paranormal makeover.”
Dasani was afraid to ask. He didn’t like the way the two men smiled at him. He didn’t trust those smiles.
He fingered his shorn hair. The loss of the long luxurious strands was almost more than he could bear. Winter loved his hair almost as much as he did. Would his mate ever be able to look at him the same again? Would Winter want him or see Dasani and wish the two had never mated?
“C–can you do something with this?” he asked as he stroked his hand over the top of his head. Maybe the two could stop Winter from gazing upon him in disgust. “Can you make me pretty again?”
Kiki grinned again. “Trust us, Dasani. We know what we’re doing.” The man held up a sparkling box with a black handle. It was too small for luggage, but big enough to fit a basketball inside.
Spencer guided Dasani to a chair sitting in the middle of the room. Dasani dropped down, and a small kernel of hope began to blossom in him.
“Ready for your transformation?” Spencer asked as he patted Dasani’s shoulder.
“I’m so excited,” Kiki said. “I’m all tingly inside.”
Dasani did not want to think of the man’s tingles. But he was willing to try anything in order not to look like a freakish mutant anymore.
His world became a whirl of scissors and shavers, eyeliner and something white that came from a tube.