Page 27 of Wolf Blood

I'd forced myself to act like I wasn't dying on the inside when my best friend showed up with the hair color earlier than I expected.

I think she was worried her mate or his Beta were going to try to stop us from dying it. I didn't think either of them were emotionally invested in my hair enough to care.

"Most hair dye fades," I said.

I had to use purple shampoo to keep mine the icy shade of blonde I liked, because of the fading.

Well, I used to.

Now, I could probably just throw more pink hair dye on it.

I still kind of wanted to make it black, though. Black would fit my current persona.

The face of death.

Maybe there was something poetic about it if I looked hard enough.

Rhone stepped into the room suddenly, his expression as pissed off as ever until he took in the chopped strands of my hair dusting the floor. And the incredibly pink dye soaking my now-shorter strands.

We'd gotten some of the dye on my face. There was a big pink stain on the center of my cheek that was a similar shade to Bloom’s hands.

"What the fuck did you do?" Rhone’s resting dickishness turned into pure rage.

"Harper wanted a change," Bloom said, glaring daggers at him. "It was this or black, and this will come out easier."

I wasn't taking it out.

I was done being blonde. I'd changed too much to go back.

Hadn’t changed enough to grow my hair out, though. That was never going to happen. Even in the darkest pits of my deadened soul, I had a short bob.

Rhone let out a slow breath, like he was struggling to maintain control. He stalked toward us, and I eyed him with a small amount of interest.

Crouching in front of me, he stole the fang necklace I'd been holding in my hand the whole time Bloom was struggling to apply the hair dye. I wasn’t sure if fangs could be stained, but I liked them white, so I’d protected them.

I watched him transfer the fangs from the chunky gold chain to a shorter, daintier rose gold one.

He didn't give it back when he was done, eyeing my hair as a glob of dye plopped onto the old shirt Bloom had brought. Rhone seemed to have done something with my old clothes.

"You can have it back afterward," he said.

I nodded.

Another glob followed the previous one to my shirt.

Rhone sat on my bed, stone-faced and overly still and very clearly unhappy as we waited for the dye to work. I probably would've found it awkward if I was feeling anything, but I wasn't.

Bloom played music and told me about the latest drama in our office building. Phyllis was being her usual, bitchy self.

My mind went back to the nightmares that had awoken me hours earlier.

I'd been draining my mom while she screamed,"KILL HER,"and strangled Carter with her bare hands.

Steven had gasped"monster"while the light left his eyes, over and over and over and over again.

I'd watched myself attack the human—Davis—at the gathering again and again, feeling nothing but the bloodlust that never left me.

In my dreams, Bloom and Timber didn't stop me from killing Davis. Rhone didn't carry me out of the Gathering while acting as a living straitjacket.