Page 119 of Psycho Shifters

I stood over him and punched him in the gut to wake him up. He was at fault for this painful shopping adventure.

“Perfect timing, Sadie. We have a hair appointment now!” Aran’s bright-blue eyes blinked open, and he shoved me out the door before I could protest.

It was my day off, so I didn’t feel like fighting him. It was just easier to acquiesce to his demands. Plus, he had a massive grin on his face. I hadn’t seen Aran this happy the entire time I’d known him.

The beta was unwell.

Before I could mutiny and ride my horse back to the compound, I sat in a hair salon.

“What color sums up your personality?” the hair stylist asked as he spun me around in a fancy leather chair.

“Um?” I didn’t know what to say. I just gaped at him.

The stylist was a tall, burly man with bright-orange hair. He also had a massive face tattoo of a middle finger and “fuck off” in big letters across his forehead.

My brain short-circuited, and my mouth flapped open as I stared up at his tattoo. The middle finger was perfectly placed between both bushy eyebrows and took up most of his forehead. The fist covered his cheeks and mouth.

“What color!” he barked at me, and I jumped up in the salon chair.

This was not what I had imagined a hair salon would be like. Suddenly, I was grateful I had chosen to cut my hair myself once a year with scissors.

“Probably black,” Aran said from the far corner, where a normal-looking woman was delicately snipping his electric-blue hair.

How come he got the normal stylist while I was getting assaulted?

“I can’t do black on white hair. That’s so boring!” the stylist yelled and breathed heavily like he was trying to calm himself down. He seemed to be one second away from an aneurysm.

Thankfully, he mumbled words under his breath and began to work without me saying anything. I closed my eyes and prayed he didn’t choose an ugly color like pink or purple.

Aran wasn’t wrong. My favorite color was black. Or gold. Still, I was too afraid of my stylist. I wasn’t saying shit.

At the thought of gold, my mind flashed to a certain alpha covered in golden piercings. I didn’t like being separated from him. It was worrisome that I had gotten so used to being around the alphas constantly.

I needed to remember I was on my own. As a female alpha, the shifter realm was a lonely place to be. Always had been, always would be.

Sadly, it was dark by the time I finally left the salon.

Once again, Aran hurried me outside. Apparently, there was a masseuse visiting the training compound for two days and he had booked us appointments.

Since I had been struggling to survive training and the fae last week, I was genuinely confused when he’d had time to plan all this. Hadn’t he also been training?

When we got back to the compound, I barely had the energy to drag my tired body behind Aran.

Today I’d learned I would much rather physically attack people and get attacked during training than have to get poked and prodded by stylists. Honestly, it was almost as painful as running.

As we headed toward the masseuse, I shuddered thinking about how the tailors had laughed as they’d prodded my naked body.

Those null women were ruthless and way scarier than beta soldiers. Someone should recruit them and my hairstylist for the war. His aura, and his face, literally screamed “fuck off.”

Finally, Aran led me to a room at the top of the compound. The masseuse was a big, burly beta named Mika. He had pretty blonde hair and dark eyes.

For some reason, every time he smiled at me, I blushed like a ninny. It had been a long day.

A few glorious minutes later, I found myself face-first on a soft bench, getting massaged. Thankfully, Mika said it was fine to leave my clothes on.

Still, the experience was divine. When Mika massaged my aching feet and hands, I swore I saw the moon goddess.

The room had soft music and a delicious lavender scent that put me to sleep.

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