Page 80 of Fang Fatale

"Sleeping Beauty arises!" he says, like I haven't just been mauled by half the forest.

I pocket the comment and accept the mug.

"That's her, all right," I say. "Beauty, emphasis on the bruising."

“Glad to see you’re vertical, Birdie. You gave us a scare.”

“Sorry,” I say, and actually mean it. “I had other plans, but the Ridge disagreed.”

Theo leans in. “Are you hungry? We can send Trent out for rabbits⁠—”

“Nobody is sending me out for rabbits,” Alaric rumbles, and Theo shoots me a look that says, See what I have to endure?

I shake my head. “Just coffee. And... is there an actual bathroom in this place?”

Alaric points down the hall. “Second on the right. Avoid the one with the green door unless you wanna meet the resident spider.”

“I appreciate the warning.”

“I appreciated the spider first.”

Theo snorts into his coffee.

I find the bathroom easily and laugh out loud when I catch my reflection again.

I look like a raccoon who lost a knife fight in a beauty salon.

The braid is beginning to unravel, and it is one hundred percent Alaric's handiwork. I know, in the way you know who's been eating your leftovers, that he did this without a single witness and would absolutely perish before admitting it.

A flicker of movement catches the mirror.

Alaric.

His arms brace casually against the doorframe, face carefully neutral, but his eyes are doing a whole novella's worth of subtext.

There are fresh bruises shadowing one cheek and a tear in his shirt near the shoulder where the bandages peek through. He looks exhausted.

Not sleepy.

Used up.

The kind of tired that settles into someone after they've spent the night making impossible decisions.

Guilt pinches somewhere behind my ribs.

His gaze travels from my face to the crooked braid before politely bypassing the rest of me.

I suddenly become painfully aware of my own existence.

Like I'm auditioning for a part I didn't realize I wanted.

“Morning,” I say, trying not to sound like I'm already planning to interrogate him about the braid.

He nods once.

“How's the head?”

“I'll survive.”