reaching out and running my thumb along his bottom lip, raking the dark, wayward strands of his mane out of his face.
He’s just so perfect.
And he’s yours.
Deeming it time to get into a shower, I set a featherlight kiss to his cheek and slip out of his bed, dressing as quietly as possible. Sans panties, I should mention.
I left those tucked in his pocket.
It’s either very early or everyone has busied themselves on this beautiful morning, because I don’t run into a single soul on the trek back to my room. My room...
I wonder how much longer Callan’s going to allow me to sleep in here now that we’ve crossed the line. I can’t foresee it even being an option. Knowing him, he’ll have Violet move my belongings as soon as he opens his eyes.
Not that I’d object.
Last night was both the best and longest I’ve slept in ages. I’m sure the series of orgasms Hook unleashed on my body had something to do with it, but feeling his warmth beside me did, too.
Once I’m under the scorching spray, I wash away the sticky remains of our delicious night, scrubbing every inch of myself, including my hair. My hair, which I don’t notice until my fingers rake through the ends, is darker than a raven. Despite knowing this was going to happen, I’m gasping in a slight panic.
Rinsing the last of the suds out as fast as I possibly can, I shut off the water with a quick hand, wrap myself in a fluffy towel, and scamper up to the mirror hung above the oval sink.
My eyes widen like saucers.
Black. My hair is jet black, the deepest ebony in existence, from my roots down to the tips. Not a single strand has been left untouched. I note its brilliance and texture has returned as well.
“Woah.” Hook’s unexpected chuckle sends me jolting a foot into the air on a startled yelp.
Once I’ve caught my breath, I clutch the towel tighter and spin toward him as he approaches the en suite. “Good morning to me, huh?”
“You look so different. Like a completely different woman from last night.” He doesn’t seem to be put off, but something about the way he states his observation makes me instantly anxious.
“Good different or bad different?”
“I think it looks fantastic on you.” He sidles up in front of me, hands swooping up to cup my face. “Your eyes glow against the darkness.”
“Seems everything about me is dark these days,” I quip at the mirthful hint shining in his blues.
“Yeah, well, I quite like it.” His lips brush my own once, twice, leaving me waiting, wanting, the ominous color of my hair now a thing of the past.
“And I quite liked last night.”
“Did you?” A chaste, teasing kiss. “Funny you say that, because I reached out for you and you were gone.”
“I needed a shower. Badly.” I wind my arms around his neck to reel him closer.
Hook grind at my attempt, knowing full well what I’m doing. “All sticky, were you?”
I nod. “Very much so.”
Humming, his hands glide up my back, pressing me firmly against his hard chest, the tip of his nose grazing my neck. “Are you hungry?”
“I am, but...” I shouldn’t be going here right now, I feel awful simply mentioning it, but after last night and all the comparisons that kept flitting through my mind, I have to know.
“But what?”
“But...I’m also curious.”
Easing back, he arches a brow. “About?”
“About Peter,” I say softly, almost shamefully. “Have you had a chance to dig into what we spoke about?”
Callan’s entire demeanor changes in two point five seconds. He goes completely rigid, his hold on me melting away. “I haven’t, no. I’ve been a little preoccupied with a certain hybrid.”
“And the witches, and the sirens,” I add, tone light and airy in hopes of salvaging the moment.
“Precisely. Speaking of, Fawn said she’d need a strand of your hair for the spell. You’ll have to pluck one for me. They should be here soon.”
“That’s fine. You think they might know, though? About Peter, I mean. Perhaps they can brew up another spell and get into his head or—”
I’m yanked to the bed, sat on the very end as he begins pacing before me. “Can I ask you something?” he questions, though I have a feeling he’d continue on regardless of what my response will be.
Swallowing deeply, nervously, I nod. “Of course.”
His footing stops, head pivoting to where I sit. Those piercing orbs of his...they’re positively arctic, ricocheting a shiver down