an abusive cheat. And then my mother fell into depression and became a little too dependent on certain drugs to keep her going. Then came the neglect, not only of me, but of Jake and Ellora.”
His happy drunk of a female was becoming decidedly less happy the longer she spoke.
“I am angry because I was forced to grow up too fast. I am angry because I’m always expected to be good. Be the good person. Do the good thing. The right thing.”
She was frowning now, her eyes misting with human tears. Tears that Luxirians did not shed.
“And sometimes, I don’t want to be good. Sometimes I dream of doing all the things that I know I shouldn’t. And then I feel terrible because what kind of person wants to be bad?”
Erin reached for the bottle hanging from Jaxor’s hand, her movements slow but jerky. For a moment, with dread coiling in his belly, he almost pulled it away from her. But he let her take it and watched as she craned her neck back and swallowed the drink, her eyes squeezing in an expression of distaste when she settled it on the cave floor.
A long moment of silence passed between them. Jaxor thought over her words, looking at her as she looked at him. He hadn’t expected her answer to make him feel…well, angry. Angry that she’d had that life. Angry that he couldn’t wipe away the look in her eyes or make the tears go away.
You are getting too deep, his mind whispered. Wade in too deep and you might never want to come out.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered after another moment, her words lilting and barely there. “I didn’t mean—”
“Now is the time to do something you want to do,” he told her, cutting off her apology. “Do you honestly think that I care whether you are good or you are bad?”
Her brow rose, interest entering her gaze. “What do you mean?”
“What do you want to do? That you shouldn’t?”
Her lips parted. Her tears were almost dry and that gladdened Jaxor. Relieved him and quieted the prowling beast inside.
She stared, their eyes glued to each other. Tension rose between them, hot and prickly. Jaxor’s belly clenched, he felt desire and lust grow and heat.
Her lips parted and he leaned forward unconsciously again, ignoring the way the stitches in his side pulled. Erin was on the verge of saying something, but then her breath whistled from her lips.
Cheeks warming, her chin lifted. Her eyes flicked to his hair. Her voice was breathless, full of things that went unspoken between them just moments ago, as she asked, “How about a haircut?”
Her question was so ridiculous and so out of place that he actually laughed. Which seemed to shock them both.
Jaxor cleared his throat, slightly embarrassed. “Rebax?”
“I…I’ve only seen Luxirians with long hair,” she said. “Never short. I’ve been wondering what you would look like with short hair.”
She had?
“And this is something bad that you think you should not do?” he asked slowly, trying to understand her reasoning, cocking his head to the side. He couldn’t help but recall her brief moment of hesitation, that heated look in her hungry eyes.
She shrugged one shoulder. She was still lying on her stomach facing him, her feet still swaying behind her. Back and forth. Back and forth. Methodically. Like she was lulling him into a trance, the rixella that she was. Because he would cut his hair for her.
“Of course,” she said, frowning. “When was the last time you asked someone if you could cut their hair? It’s a terribly rude thing to ask, especially of someone you hardly know.”
Confusion dropped his brows. He couldn’t tell by her tone if she was teasing him or testing him. Or both.
“Tev,” he rasped.
“What?” she asked, cocking her head to the side, surprised.
“You may cut my hair, rixella.”
Long hair, especially among Luxirian warriors, was desirable. It was seen as a sign of wisdom, which came with age, considering Luxirian hair grew slowly compared to some species. And among unmated warriors, it was seen as a sign of virility, based on the shine and the length. Jaxor had known a Luxirian warrior who had claimed a mate without speaking to her once. She’d accepted him just from his hair alone.
No unmated Luxirian warrior would ever willingly shear their hair. Only those exiled, disgraced, or insane would.
Considering Jaxor was an odd combination of all three, perhaps he should have cut his hair long ago. He hated it anyways. It