Page 67 of Lycan Prey
“Perfect for those super skimpy bikinis, right?” I attempt to joke with the beautician, but my voice is a tad higher than usual due to the discomfort. “No need to worry about any unruly lip slips!”
Should save on swimwear fabric, right? No lips to tuck because this wax-wielding lunatic just claimed one as her own. Flaps be gone.
The beautician chuckles, apparently enjoying my torture. “Just a few more strips, and you’ll be smoother than a baby’s bottom!”
“Fantastic,” I groan, bracing myself. “Because clearly, my life’s ambition was to achieve the sleek aerodynamics of a hairless cat. Maybe we can schedule a tail wax next time?”
As another strip is ruthlessly removed, I think about the newfound breeziness I’ll experience.Forget the wind in my hair; now it’s all about the wind down there.
“Almost done, and you’ll be perfect,” she assures me, oblivious to the inner turmoil and the plotting of revenge brewing inside me.
Perfect? I’ll be lucky if I leave here and I’m still able to sit. Soren owes me big time. I’m talking about lifetime supplies of chocolate, foot massages, and maybe a pet unicorn that poops delicious jello.
Rip, another piece of me gone! There’s no way all of me survived this unscathed. I swear I can feel the breeze doing a whistle-stop tour through my newly reconstructed vagina. I start to sit up, thinking she is done when she turns back to me and pushes my shoulder back down. I look at her questionably.
“Now for the last part,” she says.
“Last part? I’m pretty sure there are no parts left; you removed them!” I shriek, wondering how much more my punani can be stripped back; it’s not an onion; last I checked, I got no more layers left. She took it back straight to the damn core.
“Of course, can’t have any stragglers for the wedding day,” the beautician cheerfully chimes in, slathering a new batch of wax on…
I freeze, my eyes widening in horror. “Stragglers? Wait, what part of town are we venturing to now?”
She gives me a knowing wink. “Just a little tidy up around the back alley, dear. We aim for a clean escape!”
“A clean—whatnow!” The concept of having my back alley waxed hadn’t even crossed my mind. “I thought we were just doing the front porch, not landscaping the whole damn property!”
She snickers, slathering the wax on while I internally groan, thinking of how I’m going to kill Soren when I get my hands on him.
Chapter 27
• King Soren •
Bree will be furious at me for going through her bags for that birth certificate; it was the only ID I found, she must have her wallet on her. But the sooner she registers, the sooner I can get my brother off my back.
Falling into my desk chair, I click the link with a sense of annoyance, the digital chime echoing in my office as the screen flickers to life. Rhett’s face appears blurred at first, then sharpens into that all-too-familiar visage marred by a frown.
The room behind him is shadowed, giving nothing away, just like the man himself. He is nothing like his father, and if it weren’t for him, I would let Alpha Jefferson destroy his pack. But I was good friends with his father. And was devastated when he passed. Unfortunately, Rhett is driving his pack into the ground.
“Rhett,” I greet, my voice even, giving no hint of the irritation simmering beneath the surface. “We need to discuss your debt.”
He shifts uncomfortably, eyes darting off-screen for a moment before locking back onto mine. “King Soren, I’m aware. It’s just… there’ve been complications.”
“Complications won’t appease the council or fix the alliance you broke; I can’t allow you the permits to cross over thepack borders until it is paid; I have Alpha Jefferson breathing down my neck; he wants your pack dissolved,” I state flatly.
My fingers tap an impatient rhythm on the desk, a silent drumbeat counting down the time until this alliance could crumble into dust. “The money you owe isn’t just currency; it’s a promise, a truce between packs. Without it, there’s no alliance. And soon, the council will step in.”
Rhett swallows hard, the bob of his throat betraying his stress. He runs a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture I remember from when we were both much younger and far less entangled in the messy politics of our kind.
“Look, I’ll have it sorted. I just need time,” he insists, but time is a luxury neither of us can afford. He has had too many extensions.
“Understand this, Rhett,” I lean forward, the camera capturing the intensity in my eyes. “You need to settle your debt with the Alpha and the council. No money, no alliance. And without the alliance…” I let the implication hang between us, a heavyweight neither of us wants to carry.
“If you step over those borders without the appropriate paperwork, the council will not intervene if Jefferson decides to attack. Until you pay the council fines, I cannot reestablish your pack for business in the neighboring cities; by not paying your fees and fines, it put him out, and you both nearly lost those import contracts. Jefferson wants me to cut you out now. His company is capable of handling the imports alone.”
“That is my pack’s main source of income running those docks,” he argues.
“I know, which is why the council gave you the extension in the first place.”
