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I squeeze the towel, rubbing his head with it. “I used to be fascinated by your world, but after everything that has happened, I don’t want to be part of it anymore.”

His shoulders grow stiff.

“I’m not trying to insult you,” I continue, knowing he’s probably offended. “I just don’t think I’m built for your world. I know I said I won’t regret my decision to leave everything behind, and I don’t. I did it for my mother, and I stand by that choice. But I’m not as strong as your kind, and I can’t protect myself. The only thing I have is my brain. I was able to use it to escape this time, but I still lost over six months of my life. What about the next time? Nobody came to rescue me this time, and they probably won’t the next time, either.” I hear the bitterness in my voice and wonder if I harbor some resentment. “They used me when I was valuable to them but turned their backs on me when I went missing. Almost as if I was not worth looking for.”

“Is that what you truly believe?” Griffin asks me.

I set the towel back in the bowl of water. I don’t have a comb, so I use my fingers to straighten out his hair.

“Maybe. I was told that Leanna was badly injured. If something did happen to her, I would understand that she didn’t come after me. But I was still working for Erik. He should’ve tried to look for me. That he didn’t—”

“How do you know he did not send out search parties for you?”

Griffin’s question makes me feel guilty. “Maybe he did, but wouldn’t they have found me by now?”

“I was in that place for as long as I can remember. If they couldn’t find me, why do you assume they would have been able to find you?”

I purse my lips, and my voice is low. “I know I sound unreasonable, but it feels like I was abandoned.”

“I don’t believe Erik is the kind of person to abandon anybody, especially not somebody who left their entire world to help his kingdom.”

I pick up the scissors. “Why do you talk about him with such familiarity? Do you know him?”

He shrugs. “I’m acquainted with the king.”

I roll my eyes. “Fine. Keep your secrets. I’m not interested in finding them out.” Griffin probably remembers a heck of a lot more than he’s telling me, but I don’t want to pry and learn something that’s going to put me back in the crosshairs of danger.

My answer seems to displease him, but I don’t care. I just want to get out of this place. It’s bad enough that proximity to this shifter makes me feel all kinds of things. He’s wildly attractive, in that cold, aloof way I have never found even remotely appealing. But with him, I find myself sneaking glances. Granted, he’s not completely aloof with me, but there is a standoffish air to him, and it’s mildly irritating.

“How short do you want your hair?”

“As short as possible, if you would.”

I lift my upper body and rest my weight on my knees as I begin cutting. Beautiful locks of silver hair fall to the shirt on the wooden floor. I feel a hint of envy. “You shifters have such stunning hair. I always thought silver hair made a person look old, but it makes you look magnificent.”

The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.

“My father had silver hair,” Griffin tells me. “Unlike me, he preferred to wear it like his ancestors, tied behind his back. I find it cumbersome.”

“I bet your father had some feelings about that.”

“He was certainly not pleased.”

I carefully cut the hair from his nape, trying not to nick him. “Stay there. I have to do this from the front.”

Waddling over on my knees, I come to kneel in front of where he’s sitting and realize that his face is right at my chest. It wouldn’t bother me normally, but the shirt I’m wearing is thin, and I can feel his hot breath on my breasts. It doesn’t help that I’m not wearing a bra. I normally don’t need one because, unlike Leanna, I am not generously endowed. Still…

I clench my jaw when his breath hits my collarbone, trying hard not to shiver. My hand comes to rest on his shoulder as I feel myself topple forward. Instinctively, I assume, he grasps me by the waist.

“I have you.”

Simple words, but an unbidden tension unravels within me.

Swallowing, I continue to trim his hair, snipping the longer ends and styling the shorter ones so that he doesn’t look in the mirror and decide to end me over the monstrosity I’ve created.

His hands are large, and they encompass my entire waist. I wet my lips, feeling uncertain.

What is it with me and this guy? He’s not my type. I always go for nerdy, scientist types, introverts mostly. I enjoy ruffling their feathers, and the sex is always interesting because I like taking the lead and they always let me. But Griffin? As quiet and unassuming as he may be, instinct tells me that in bed, he’ll be the one calling all the shots.