Page 35 of His Retribution

No, I'm not expecting to get an enormous erection and try to bone the queen, but a female's touch, no matter how platonic, is so very different from a male’s.

Posey's gentle hands and warm intentions may just bring me to tears, and after I fell apart in the hallway the other night, I'd like to avoid it happening again.

"Kai told me to, and I quote,shave that shit off completely and don't let the bastard fight you on it, end quote." She grins. "This won't hurt a bit, Vok. Just have a seat and let me work my magic. Afterward, I'll leave you to get changed, but you better come say goodbye to us before you go and sweep your girl off her feet."

If only it were that simple.

But I give up the fight anyway, grab a kitchen chair and plant it in the middle of the room before I drop down on it with a sigh. "I wore a goatee when I met my light," I grunt. "And my hair was shorn on the sides and underneath, long on top."

Posey squeals her delight and quickly wraps the barber’s cape around my neck. "Long like a pompadour? Did you have a fade? Or was it long enough to pull into a man bun?"

"This was the eighteenth century, woman, I cut my own hair with a damn straight razor and my sword most of the time." Until my angel started trimming it for me.

"Got it, got it. Goatee, short on the sides, long on top. I'll do my best but I'm taking a little creative license to make you look so hot for your girl."

Then the queen gets to work.

* * *

Two hours later I'm standing in front of the mirror in my bathroom, the steam still thick in the air from a much needed shower, staring at a face I have not seen in years.

I run my hands through the pin straight hair on my head, now cut into along, side swept undercut with a high fadeas Posey called it. I pat my clean shaven cheeks, smooth my thumb and forefinger over the very tight goatee, eyes wandering to the scar my beard had hidden.

It's deep but not too deep, part of the collection I received during a battle where I was far too close when a laced cannon went off. Eyebrow, under eye, cheek bone, cheek. The scars continue to my chin and collar bone, my left pectoral. I got them well before I even met my light and hopefully they will also serve as little reminders since she had, at one point, eagerly traced each of them with her tongue.

I shake the thought from my head, refuse to let too much hope spring forth, then pull on the simple black t-shirt and basketball shorts that will be sufficient to wear while working on my angel's truck.

I check the clock on the wall and see that she should be leaving work in a few hours so I slip on some ankle socks, the black trainers Posey bought, and throw on a ball cap for good measure.

The night air is crisp, cool but not cold, a hint of summer still hanging on as fall draws near, winter’s impending cold just around the corner. The moon is bright tonight, bright enough to light my path as I make my way to the mansion, and I smile because my blue light will look so beautiful with the moon beams illuminating her skin.

My phone buzzes in my pocket just as I hit the front door so I stop.

ANDREJ: The little one is in good spirits tonight.

ANDREJ: Seems excited about something. Wouldn't happen to know what, would you brother?

I grin like an idiot.

ME: Perhaps she's been sneaking shots of vodka when you aren't looking. Surely she couldn't be excited about fixing her piece of shit truck with some asshole in the woods.

ANDREJ: My thoughts exactly. Judging by the way she frequently chews her thumb to hide her smile, the little one must be three sheets to the wind by now.

ME: She isn't really drinking though, right?

My light is not known for being able to hold her liquor and the last thing I need is for her to be so shitfaced that she passes out before I get to spend time with her.

ANDREJ: No, dumbass. The little one has had nothing but water since I've been here. Although, she could use a stiff drink after the way the plastic one keeps treating her.

I pause in the foyer and take a deep breath, fight the urge to march down to the bar and teach Joyce a lesson in manners.

I am very familiar with that phony bimbo and her treatment of other women.

She is a downright bitch to Posey and Casey, just as bad to Grace and Allie. Apparently, she is very territorial and enjoys having a go at the fresh meat in town. Joyce wanted all four of my brothers and has a deep seeded hate for their mates, and when I joined them last summer she set her sights on me.

Unfortunately, the ruder I am the harder she tries.

And knowing that she already has an issue with my mate makes me despise her all the more.