Lycan's Prey by Jessica Hall

Chapter 81

The beautician, a cheerful woman with bright pink nails and an even brighter smile, ushers me toward the door of a room out the back. I glance desperately towards the front, contemplating a swift escape, but Maribel has already settled comfortably in the waiting area with a magazine.

As she shuts the door, she tells me to sit down while she prepares the wax.

“Queen Maribel said you have an unusual hair situation, that werewolves have some strange anomaly us Lycans don’t?” she asks, perplexed. Great, just what I need. Thanks Soren!

“No, I shaved already,” I tell her lifting my pant leg, she looks confused when she glances at my legs.

“Oh, you’re already quite smooth, dear. No need for a leg wax then,” she remarks.

“But,” she continues, her smile unfaltering, “since the session. is already paid for, we can move on to the Brazilian instead.”

My heart drops. “Brazilian?” I echo, my voice rising in panic.

“Yes, dear. Queen Maribel insisted you should experience the full package,” the beautician explains as if a Brazilian wax is a leisurely stroll in the park.

“It’s all paid for, dear! Just relax and enjoy,” she calls out, giving me a thumbs up.

follow the beautician into the

Chapter

81

17280 vouchers

overly bright space that suddenly feels more like an interrogation room. As I lie down on the waxing table, my mind races with

my shoulder reassuringly. “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. Think of it as… preparation for the wedding night!” she chirps, apparently trying

I close my eyes, trying to think of anything but what she is about to do. She turns back to me and frowns. “You gotta take your pants off, silly!” she chuckles, and

thumbs as she wanders over and assesses me. She purses her lips. “I

flinch as she spreads the wax on my skin and then places the fabric strip, smoothing it down. She chatters away happily as if she is not about to

blinding speed. My eyes bulge, and I know she must have pulled skin off. I glance down,

Chapter 81

that was a good one!” Her enthusiasm feels almost sadistic as she prepares. another dollop of wax. “Clean as a whistle,” she hums, spreading the wax liberally, tugging my

feel the wax smear in a dangerously low region. I slap my hand over my

your first time,” the beautician teases, clearly enjoying this far too much.

going to kill him. Soren will die by

shriek as the strip comes off, my hands gripping the table like it’s the only thing keeping me grounded in a world that has clearly lost its sanity. How

I’m pretty sure I’m one lip short