Chapter 85
“Of course, Soren. I am grateful for your… understanding,” he says, though the gratitude seems to claw at his throat on its way out.
“Good.” My gaze doesn’t falter as I fix him in place with a look that brooks no argument. “Then we are clear. Your debt will be settled, and the alliance can proceed without further hindrance.”
“Thank you,” he mutters, the words barely audible.
With a nod, more to myself than to him, I prepare to disconnect the call, knowing full well that while today’s agreement might pause any pack wars for now, it’s the actions that follow that will decide if these two packs ever come to an alliance again.
*****
~Aubrey-
I stagger out of Damian’s car, wincing with each step as if I’m navigating a minefield in my trousers. The raw aftermath of my waxing session makes every movement feel like I’m rubbing sandpaper between my thighs–or what’s left of them. The castle looms ahead, its ancient stones suddenly mocking my very modern pain.
My pants chafe with every step, a cruel reminder of my now too–smooth situation. It’s like walking with two angry, hairless ts fighting in my underwear. With no protective buffer,
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every seam feels like it’s plotting against me.
Soren is waiting, his smile quickly turning to a puzzled frown as he watches me waddle up the drive. The confusion on his face morphs into shock as I approach, moving like a penguin.
“Having trouble there?” Soren calls out, trying to mask his concern with humor as he takes in my peculiar shuffle.
“You could say that,” I grunt, managing a glare in his direction. “Feels like I’ve just ridden a cactus bareback.”
His eyes widen in amused horror as I limp past him, my walk turning into a bizarre bow–legged shuffle. “What happened to you?” he asks, trailing behind me, his curiosity piqued.
I shoot him a glare that could curdle milk. Ignoring his question, I beeline for the kitchen, each step a reminder of the day’s atrocities. “Just a brief trip to hell and back. Thanks for asking!” I mutter under my breath.
“Why, what happened?” he asks, looking at me with concern.
“Let’s just say your mother introduced me to a waxing strip, and it took a liking to me–a lot,” I say through gritted teeth.
He chuckles, then winces sympathetically as I make a pained face. “Looks like you’re trying to smuggle a porcupine in your pants.”
“Not smuggling, the porcupine violated me!” I correct him with a pained smile.
Soren’s laughter rings out, a clear, joyful sound that, despite my discomfort, makes the corners of my mouth twitch upwards. “I’d offer to carry you, but I fear the porcupines
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might object,” he teases, opening the door for me as we reach the kitchen.
“Very funny,” I mutter, heading straight for the freezer. I’m on a mission for anything cold, my new best friends being frozen peas or, ideally, an entire iceberg I can shove inside my pants to bring my core temperature down.
Inside the kitchen, I make a dive for the freezer, fishing out a bag of frozen peas. I press it against my tortured southern region, sighing in relief as the cold numbs the stinging. Soren follows, amusement written all over his face.
Soren snickers, clearly trying to imagine the scene. “It can’t be that bad.”
I give him a look that would burn him alive had I been born a witch. “I think my lips have been ripped off.”
His laughter fills the kitchen, and I can’t help but fantasize about smothering him with the pea bag. Instead, I storm off, walking like a cowboy who’s spent a week riding bareback to our room so I can remove these pants.
With my hands full of frozen peas and dignity nowhere to be found, I trudge up the stairs, praying for a miracle that would numb this pain. Soren’s laughter echoes behind me, only making me boil alongside my humiliation. “I’m sorry,” he says between fits of laughter, “I’ll make it up to you.”
“Yes, you will!” I snap at him.
Once in our room, I take a deep breath and brace myself, pulling the denim down my legs with a hiss.
Soren ventures into the room and perches at the side of my
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bed. He tries to stifle a grin but fails miserably as he takes in my predicament. “Do you need help with anything?” he questions me with a wicked glint in his eyes.
Huffing, I reply, “Unless you’ve got a magic ointment that can grow back hair within seconds or conjure up an ice cloud to sit on, your ‘help‘ isn’t required.”
His laughter rumbles through the room once more. “I’ll take that as a ‘no.“” My reply is a glare.
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Chapter 86
