Page 8 of Finding Her (Lore of the Fields #1)

I looked around for a trash can to put the bloody bandages from my feet in, with no luck.

That’s fine, I’ll leave them on the sink .

After our prior interaction, I was no longer desperate to be the perfect, considerate guest. If he was going to make decisions for me like I was a child, then I would act like one.

I couldn’t suppress the bitterness that brewed as I looked in the mirror one more time at my shining blonde hair.

After two baths and a full night of rest, it looked so healthy.

Even if he was telling the truth about the dangers it posed, it was easy to resent him for the change.

“Are you ready?” Graysen’s voice was calm as I rounded the corner into the living room, holding onto the belt of the robe for added security. He had seen me naked once, that was enough.

“How are we going to do this?” I replied, observing that he had spread out a large sheet in front of the now extinguished fire.

“Come sit with me.” He patted the ground in front of himself. “I’m going to rub my ash through your hair. It should leave enough of a tint.”

I hesitated for only a moment before walking over and lowering myself with my back to him and my legs crossed in front of me.

Every stubborn and defensive bone in my body protested, but my mind was set.

If this was my key to existing in the outside world safely, then so be it.

This was a small price to pay to avoid house arrest or getting eaten by a local.

“May I touch your hair?”

I scoffed. “Sure.” It wasn’t like he had left much room for negotiation earlier.

“Can you say ‘yes’? I don’t want to do this without your consent.”

“Yes, Graysen. Go ahead. It’s not sex, you don’t need to be so weird about it.” Why was he making everything difficult? I had the distinct feeling that if anybody else had found me, things would have been far more normal .

His large hands rested on my scalp, and I felt a grainy powder being slowly scrubbed into my damp roots.

His fingers massaged my head in large circular motions as they worked the ash everywhere, before focusing on one strand at a time.

I felt my shoulders relax . Fuck, that feels almost…

good? Now was not the time for pleasure to hijack my emotional state, but I couldn’t help but melt a little at the soft sizzling and firm grip.

“It doesn’t have to be sex for me to care how you feel about something.” His voice turned gravelly as he stroked a thumb over the nape of my neck. “It’s a part of you, and I’m sorry I have to be the one changing it.”

I didn’t expect an apology, nor did I particularly want one.

“Why did you say you didn’t like the blonde?” he asked, discontent marking his tone.

Because I didn’t want you to think I was affected by this. “I don’t have any particular attachment to the color. I thought it looked like straw the first time I saw it.” Before I washed it, I thought that. It was pretty when I woke up.

Despite my resentment for the whole ordeal, I fought a moan as his fingers ran behind the backs of my ears.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been touched pleasantly.

Although that wasn’t saying much, considering I couldn’t remember the last time I’d experienced most things.

I tried to remind myself he was just dyeing my hair and that was it, but it felt overwhelmingly intimate having him grasp the base of my neck while his own ashes exfoliated my skin.

“Why ashes and not hair dye?” I asked, trying to distract myself from the contented noises that were threatening to escape my throat. I had to focus on projecting my words, at risk of sounding listless.

“It’s illegal to sell hair dye here.” I heard him scoop up another handful of soot from the fire that he started rubbing in mid-strand.

“Ah.” For a moment, I was sad his warm palms had left my head to work further down the length of my hair, the occasional knuckle brushing against my back wasn’t nearly as relaxing. “How puritan. Why?” He said nothing for a long moment, only running his hands through my hair.

“It’s complicated,” he finally sighed.

“Of course it is.”

“I’m almost done, it seems to be taking. While it sets, can I get you anything? Food? Water?” He changed the topic, signaling he would not be explaining the complications.

“I’ll take some answers,” I braved saying, a moment of lucidity coming over me in the absence of his massage.

“I’m not sure I can give you many.” As if he heard my voice shifting from its placated state, his hands returned to my sensitive scalp.

Fingers traced their way to my temples before brushing back and down.

His nails scratched tenderly over my neck.

There was no way this was necessary to the process.

My breath steadied, and I allowed myself to close my eyes for a moment.

It was a nice break from the pain that occupied all my new memories.

Hell, it was just nice . Although I felt a small ounce of shame for not keeping my guard up, the guilt was subtle enough as my thoughts turned mostly quiet.

He didn’t have to know how much I was getting out of this, and it wasn’t hurting anybody. Like I said— it’s not sex .

“Do you know what happened to me? Where was I?”

He was silent for another long moment before taking a deep breath.

“You were lying face down on the gravel of a forest road. I don’t know where you came from; the region is a peninsula, and I haven’t been past where I found you.

I turned around and had the Silvates hurry us back to get you to safety.

The wildernesses of Trebianna are unforgiving. ”

Nude, bloody, and face buried in mud. What a visual. “Thanks for picking me up.” It felt like something I should say, despite our tumultuous day together. At least I wasn’t in the digestive tract of an eldritch horror.

“I wouldn’t have left you there,” he said solemnly.

I felt his body adjust behind me, and his tone became more matter-of-fact.

“I’m all finished here. Let it sit for a few minutes before you rinse it out.

Hopefully that’ll be enough to help you blend in.

” I heard him wipe his hands on something, presumably the blanket we sat on.

Still in a reluctantly satiated state, I bowed my heavy head to my chest. “Got it.”

“I’ll bring you some food and water while you wait.

We need to get your strength back.” He stood to his feet.

A whooooosh sounded to my left as the fire flared back to life where the pile of lukewarm embers and charred logs had been.

He walked off, the sound of opening cabinets in the kitchen promptly following.

“ I have plenty of strength,” I grumbled to myself, licking my finger, dipping it in the ash of the fireplace, and scrubbing it into my eyebrows. Of course Graysen wouldn’t think about matching them to my hair. Men .

My initial impression of the living room still stood—cozy despite the neglect.

A little cleaning, and I was sure this space would feel like a grandparent’s cabin.

Old-fashioned, but timeless. Wood, brick, and polished metals would never go out of style.

The more modern features, like the granite countertops in the kitchen, felt as though somebody was trying to add their personal touches to the space.

The off-brown tones were complementary to the more natural elements, making nothing seem out of place despite the presumed renovations.

I caught a peek at my reflection in the golden rim of the grandfather clock. I was expecting my hair to appear black as coal, but instead it read as warm gray. I was instantly relieved it wasn’t too dark—I didn’t want my features to be overpowered. After all, I was just getting to know them.