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“Who is Alessandra?” I ask, thinking about the look on Nat’s face. Underneath all the anger lay devastation. Whoever Alessandra was, she had meant a great deal to Nat.
He ignores my question. Instead, he reaches his hand out, fingers brushing my arm, leaving a trail of electric tingles in their wake. My breath catches in my throat as he wraps one of my curls around his fingers.
“So soft,” he murmurs, running his fingers through the bottom of my long hair. My heart pounds, and my insides turn to liquid as he plays with my curls. “You have the most beautiful hair.”
I’m incapable of speaking, watching with wide eyes as Damian coils a curl around his finger, the brown strands gleaming in the lamp’s light. It’s getting harder to ignore my throbbing core, and I try to adjust myself, crossing my ankles.
“It’s a pity we’re going to have to cut and dye it.” Damian sighs, looking disappointed.
“What?” I gasp, feeling like I just got doused with cold water.
He furrows his brows. “The Brotherhood knows what you look like, Alexis. Of course we’re going to have to alter your appearance. The goal is to hide you in plain sight.”
“B–But…” I clutch my hair. It may sound stupid, but my long, thick, curly hair has been my pride and joy. People would stop me all the time to remark on my ringlets. It’s the one thing Emma was jealous of as she had pin straight hair that couldn’t hold a curl.
It’s almost like my security blanket. I’ll feel naked without it.
“Do you want to get caught or not?” Damian asks me. “This is the only way, Alexis.”
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” I mumble, staring at the box of hair dye on the bathroom counter. I’ve never dyed my hair before as I’ve always liked the chestnut brown color I was born with.
“Don’t chicken out now,” came Damian’s voice from the doorway. He leans against the doorway, wearing a pair of black joggers and a gray T-shirt. His white bandages peek out from underneath the shirt collar. “This is for the best. Besides, don’t all girls want to cut and dye their hair? Isn’t it cathartic or some shit?”
I feel my cheeks flush as I meet his gaze in the mirror. “Maybe for some girls, but not for me. I’ve always liked my hair.”
“It’ll still be your hair,” he points out. “Just a different color and length.”
God, men are clueless.
My hands shake as I tear open the box, ripping the smiling black-haired model’s face in half. I take a deep breath before looking back at Damian. “Are you going to help me?”
There’s a predatory gleam in his eyes as he pushes away from the door, chuckling. The sound sends a shiver down my spine. “As you wish.”
He steps up behind me, his warm presence surrounding me as he deftly plucks the bottle of dye from my trembling fingers. My breath catches in my throat as his fingers graze my own.
“Turn around,” he murmurs, already working the applicator brush through the thick black cream.
I obey, my heart thundering as Damian carefully brushes the first streak of color through my brown hair. His other hand cradles the back of my head, holding me in place as he methodically paints my hair with broad, confident strokes.
The dye is cool against my scalp, but I barely notice. My entire body is burning up from Damian’s proximity. His sandalwood cologne clouds my senses, surrounding me until all I can focus on is the scorching path of his hand as it brushes against my neck, my shoulders, the sloping curve of my collarbone…
A soft moan escapes from my lips before I can stop it. Damian freezes, his heavy-lidded gaze locking with mine in the mirror. The corner of his mouth twitches up in a smirk.
“You okay there?” he murmurs, his voice a deep, liquid velvet.
I manage a shaky nod, feeling like I’m ready to faint. Damian’s smirk deepens for a moment before he continues painting strokes of black dye through my hair.
“You know your way around a dye brush,” I say breathlessly.
“I’ve helped Nat dye her hair a fair few times,” he says, his voice still low and gravelly.
By the time he finishes, I’m seconds away from combusting. Damian pulls his hands away with reluctance, his scorching stare roving over my newly dyed hair.
“That’s better.” He winks at me. “Now, follow me. Nat’s hairdresser is here.”
In a daze, I follow Damian out and sit in a salon chair. I’m soon introduced to Richard, who promises to give me the best haircut of my life.
Snip. Snip. Snip.
