Betrayed Forced Mate (Rosecreek Special Ops Wolves #4)

I set the mirror down carefully, trying to control my anger. It’s not Percy’s fault this is happening—I noticed it about a year ago.

I’ve dyed my hair a cerulean blue since the day I left my hometown. During that time, I developed a system—get my roots done once a month, mix dye in with my shampoo, and use a hair masque—which Percy caught me doing once, and hasn’t let me live down since.

But last year, I noticed the blue fading faster and faster, no matter how much extra dye I mixed in with my shampoo. It was like my hair was rejecting the color, forcing it out.

And not only that, but the hair that had previously been bleached had started turning black again. At first, it was several weeks after the bleaching, then days, and now, the bleach doesn’t even strip the color from my hair for more than ten minutes before it’s black to a glossy black.

“Fuck,” I say, bracing my hands on the counter and forcing myself to take a deep breath. It shouldn’t matter—it’s just blue hair—but it’s become a part of my identity.

Part of the way I remind myself that I’m not my family. Something I can do so I don’t have to wake up and stare at a reflection of my brother in the mirror every morning.

“I’m sorry, man,” Percy says, stripping off his gloves and tossing them in the trash can. “You already know what I’m going to say, and I know you don’t want to hear it.”

“Yeah, yeah, talk to Triste,” I say, thinking of the mage Aris, who has recently been invited for a residency in Rosecreek. He wants her to decide to stay, but I don’t care either. Obviously, I’m aware of the fact that magic exists, but I prefer to stay as far away from it as I can. I’m not a fan of the loose, changing rules for how magic functions and how to control it.

Technology is much easier to manipulate. Once you know the rules, you can do whatever you want. It may take you hours to find that tiny little character that’s keeping your code from running, but once you do, the entire world makes sense.

“I’m just saying,” Percy says, sighing and running his hands through his hair, which is a little longer than he normally keeps it, the loose golden curls flopping over his head. “You want blue hair; you gotta talk to the wizard.”

“You know they hate it when you call them that,” I say, referring to the many times Percy has referred to mages as wizards.

‘It’s not a fucking Dungeons and Dragons book’, one of them snapped, when we were working on assignment in Canada.

‘A what?’ Percy had said back, looking like a confused puppy, which just led the mage to sigh and ignore him for the rest of the mission.

“I always forget the words for it,” he says, shaking his head and running a hand over his chin. “But my point stands.”

“Isn’t she busy with Veronica?”

“Well,” Percy says, letting out a long sigh between his teeth, and I regret bringing it up. I know that even being here with me right now is a lot for him—he wants to stay glued to Veronica’s side, but her pregnancy is making her even more touchy than normal, and she called me, begging me to get him out of the house.

So, I asked him to come help me with my hair. Which was clearly a bust.

“I don’t think there’s really a lot Triste can do,” Percy says, flopping down into a chair and staring up at the ceiling. “Rosa and Maisie are checking on her—but Rosa is a chemist, not a doctor, and as much as I love Maisie, she’s a nurse, not a doctor. Aris contacted the guild of paranormal doctors, requesting anyone skilled and familiar with vampires and shifters, but that’s obviously rare. Triste has been casting some health spells on Veronica, but she says they just make her itchy.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing,” I muse, reaching into the fridge. I grab an energy drink for myself, a grape soda for Percy. “I think stuff itches when it’s healing.”

“I guess,” he says, then putting his hand to his heart and accepting the soda, “you know me so well.”

“Yeah,” I laugh, kicking the fridge door shut. I don’t need him knowing that the only reason I keep that soda is for when he comes over. I wouldn’t be caught dead drinking the stuff.

“But that stuff,” he says, popping the tab on his soda and pointing at my energy drink, “is going to kill you.”

I resist the urge to say, that’s the goal, and instead just shrug.

“Humans drink it,” I say, taking a sip, “how dangerous can it be?”

He quirks an eyebrow at me but says nothing else about my choice of beverage. We sit in silence for a moment, each studying the birds hopping outside the windowsill.

“How long are you guys staying for?” I ask, trying to determine how long I need to stay hidden away in my apartment. I know events are coming up in Minneapolis and Chicago soon—but maybe they’ll skip one or two until Veronica is ready to go out again.

“Oh,” Percy says, can halfway to his mouth. “We’re staying until the baby is born. With complications showing up this early, we don’t want to risk anything happening out in the field, or the stress of the job affecting the baby’s health.”

“That’s fair,” I say, laughing, “Olivia must be pissed.”

Percy raises an eyebrow at me. I’m clearly fishing, but I rarely mention her to anyone else, so I’d hoped it would come off as casual to him. He may have been under the effects of the serum back when Olivia liked me, but it’s clear the others filled him in on our situation.

Or, as much of the situation as they were privy to. There’s no one in this town, other than Olivia and me, who knows why we no longer speak.