Crimson Haze: The Crimson Series, #5

By Georgiana Fields

A chance to live and love

Imprisoned since WWII and subjected to Eugenic experimentation, Simone is terrified of men and has no clue how to live in the 21st century. Once rescued, she embraces her new freedom. Despite her fears, Simone resolves to reach out to the damaged man who is her lifemate and find the love she has craved for decades.

 

During the mission that rescued Simone, Quaid lost his leg. He has adapted to his prosthesis but is devastated by the loss of his inner wolf and his inability to shift. Quaid retreats to his mountain cabin in New Hampshire, struggling to cope with these new losses and believing he cannot protect those he loves.

Enemies who fear Simone's knowledge about their participation in the experimentation performed on Dhampir women hunt her as she follows Quaid to his mountain home. Nothing will stop them until she is recaptured or dead.

 

Can Quaid and Simone survive the determination of their enemies and face their own emotional scars in order to build a life together?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Saphira Press
• Release date: Aug 5, 2021
• ISBN: 9781736460054

Book preview

Crimson Haze

The Crimson Series

Book 5

Georgiana Fields

""

Copyright © 2019 Georgiana Fields

All rights reserved.

This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form without permission in writing from the publisher, Georgiana Fields. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the publisher's permission is illegal and punishable by law.

All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

ISBN: 978-1-7364600-5-4

Cover Design:  Gina Dyer

Photography:   Gina Dyer

Depositphoto

Editor:   Mary Marvella

Dedication

For all the women helping women and lift them up. Especially all the sisters of my heart.

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Epilogue

More Books by Georgiana Fields

About the Author:

Chapter One

Quaid strode into the spacious conference room as he had countless times. Councilman Max Davenport glanced up from the file he held. Flanked by two orderlies, Simone stood against the wall, her huge familiar smile in place.

Quaid didn’t dare let his gaze linger on her. He couldn’t risk leading her on. The poor delusional woman believed they were mates. They weren’t. He’d had a mate once. A mate, he let die.

Simone was not Quaid’s mate, no matter how many times she called him her Quaid. It didn’t matter if his heart fluttered when he first laid eyes on her or the pride he’d felt when she accepted his wolf. When the beast scented her, it had yipped so loud in Quaid’s mind he winced in pain. But like he’d told his family, Simone was not his mate.

Quaid took his seat, turning his attention to the Administer of Healing. The man had a degree in accounting and financing. The Council inherited their positions even if they didn’t know what the hell they were doing. This tradition Royce, the new leader of the Dhampir, was working to correct despite the opposition he faced. Max Davenport Senior had been a great Healer. When he died, the Dhampir world suffered a significant loss.

Look, I'm just saying I don’t think she will ever be able to live in the outside world. The best thing for her is to be put down. Humanely, of course. I see this as both a benefit for the patient as well as a financial benefit for this institution. The cost of maintaining her upkeep is a financial strain.

The rage consuming Quaid cast a crimson haze over his eyes. He studied Max Davenport, trying to figure out how the man would die. Quaid didn’t think Royce would mind too much if he lost another inept Councilman, especially the temporary Administer of Healing who didn’t know the difference between a rectal thermometer and a BP cuff.

Quaid gripped the edge of the cherry table to keep from lunging at the man and gutting him. That’s the problem with you, Max, you don’t think.

You were only invited to this meeting as a courtesy, Mr. Wolfe—

Healer Wolfe, Quaid corrected the man.

Yes, well, you aren’t practicing medicine anymore, are you? The man sneered. You’re not even a wolf anymore. Besides, you’ve already told the Board, as well as the Council, the woman means nothing to you. Max took a small device in hand.

NO! Quaid lunged at Max, falling to the ground when his legs no longer supported him. Helpless, he watched Max press the button.

Simone smiled brightly as the trackers in her exploded, killing her. Her body crumbled to ash. Her big hazel eyes would forever haunt him.

Quaid bolted upright in bed, breathing deeply, his heart racing. Sweat ran down his face. This made the hundredth time he’d had this dream. Dream? It was a damn night terror. He scrubbed his hands over his face. It was a good thing he wasn’t home. If he were, his whole dang family would be busting in on him. He knew they meant well. But hell, a man could only take so much mollycoddling.

Shit, damn, and hell! He shouldn’t have yelled at his folks. But he had. He’d also yelled at his four siblings. He’d even busted his younger brother Paul in the jaw for no reason other than his face just happened to be there. Quaid had yelled he was heading out for a drink. Alone. It didn’t matter it was only nine in the morning. It was five somewhere in the world.

Then, just for shits and giggles, he’d borrowed Morgan’s new truck. New as in it-only-had-forty-six miles-on-it new. His oldest brother hadn’t even sat his butt on the seat new. The car hauler was heading down the drive as the blow-up started. Quaid laughed. Morgan still ran like a sissy. He shook his fist, flipped him off, and threatened to call the cops. Quaid knew Mom wouldn’t allow that.

On the other hand, Quaid had to hand it to Morgan. He did know how to design a nice ride. His brother had custom ordered the sleek black ride with a rear backup camera, Bluetooth, bed cover, the works. Damn thing could even parallel park itself. The seats both heated and cooled. Oh yeah. They cradled his body in a cloud. The only thing missing was the kitchen sink, but that didn’t mean it didn’t have one. He just hadn’t found the right button yet. For once Quaid hadn’t minded driving the over thirty-hour trek to his cabin. It took him more like forty with the frequent stops and his need to catch some shut-eye. He hadn’t yet responded to the fifteen missed calls or the numerous texts.

The drive gave him time to reflect. He’d yelled at his parents—no he’d screamed at them like a spoiled four-year-old. He knew how one sounded. His younger brother Tristan had three. Quaid should have been more of a man, but he couldn’t stand them treating him like a pup any longer. Their smothering was killing him.

His chest tightened. He wasn’t a pup, he wasn’t even a wolf anymore, either. He was nothing. How could nothing take care of a mate, a beautiful, fragile woman who needed him, depended on him to protect her? He couldn’t defend himself, let alone Simone.

Tears streamed down his face. He could handle losing his leg. He could cope with losing his job...but his wolf? Quaid struggled with that.

Because of his pride, he’d lost his wolf. If he hadn’t been so cocky, if he’d kept to his human form, he wouldn’t have lost his leg. But, no, he’d had to take his Alpha form.

Simone had worked feverishly to save his leg. He’d never seen such skill. Her nimble fingers had worked on stitching his muscles and flesh back together. Had he been a stronger wolf, a more powerful Alpha, he would have been able to hold the half-shifted form. But he wasn’t. He was just an arrogant prick who got what he deserved. He’d shifted into his wolf then limped back to the plane. Once boarded, Quaid had turned back into his human form, pulled on a pair of sweats, then mentally watched as his wolf retreated into the recesses of his mind. The beast curled up, licking the stump that had been its hind leg. His wolf hadn’t come out of its den since.

Hell, Quaid couldn’t even get the amber glow to his eyes or have fur ripple over his skin no matter how his brothers pissed him off. Heck he couldn’t even get his nails to shift. He could barely get his fangs to descend.

He lay on his back, staring up at his ceiling, watching the fan turn slowly. The faint cries of coyotes echoed in his room. Quaid hated nights like these. His wolf would push against his skin, demanding to be released so he could hunt down and kill the interlopers. They were in his territory, on his land. Now the cries of the coyotes rubbed salt into his wounds.

The faint early morning light slowly crept across his room until it finally caressed his face. Quaid hadn’t slept in days. He’d napped if he could call it that. Sighing, Quaid dragged his butt out of bed. No need lying here if he wasn’t going to sleep.

His morning routine had changed. No longer could he jump out of bed. Now he either pulled himself into his chair or grabbed his crutches. Usually he used the crutches except when he showered that he did sitting. He didn’t mind sitting since he’d installed the walk-in tub with jets. He could still do some things for himself. He grinned. If his cuss-hating sister-in-law Niki had been there, it would have cost him a small fortune with all the cussing he did.

Once he completed the three S’s, shit, shower, and shave, he pulled on his liner, which acted as a sock fitting over the remaining part of his leg. The liner protected and cushioned his skin against the connection socket of his prosthesis. Finally, Quaid pulled on his boots. Fully dressed, he looked like his old self, a little pudgy around his middle but still his former self. Too damn bad he didn’t feel like it. Maybe he should take the advice he gave his patients about exercising. Maybe. After breakfast. He made his way to his kitchen.

His phone vibrated. Instead of answering, he cracked another egg into the frying pan. He’d call whomever back later.

Man, he was winded. Damn, he was out of shape. He’d only chopped, racked, and stowed two cords of wood before he had to take a break. His hands had blisters. Quaid plopped down on the top step then poured himself a cup of coffee from the thermos. It felt good to be this tired. Back home he hadn’t been permitted to do anything. Not even lift much more than a pencil. If his mother could have figured out a way for him not to do that, she would have.

In retrospect, the time had allowed him to read and study the files Simone confiscated when Royce and the team rescued Jenny and Kimber from Zeno Dorjan’s clutches. They’d gone in thinking it would be a simple extraction mission. It was anything but simple. They rescued Jenny and Kimber and even freed five women and a child from their hell. Sadly, only four of the women made it out alive. The fifth gave her life for Jenny’s. Quaid shivered. He didn’t think he’d make it out alive that day.

Once the dust had settled, they also had forty of Dorjan’s men who surrendered without so much as an angry word. He took a swig of coffee. The bitter liquid ran down his parched throat.

Quaid still had one more file to go through. He might get to it someday. Maybe. Probably not. He’d read enough to give him nightmares for the rest of his life.

He shuddered. The atrocities those women had suffered made him sick. He’d comprised his reports and sent them to the Council. Viktor and Percy were going over the information smuggled out by Matilda Dorjan, Zeno’s wife. Why hadn’t Matilda killed that bastard of a husband sooner? If she had a lot of grief would have been avoided. Oh well, as Pop says, can’t worry about the past, just work on making the future better.

Quaid’s phone vibrated and he glanced at the screen. He’d call Stacey back later—not.

He took another swig of the hot, bitter liquid as he eyed the remaining logs. His wolf perched on top of the woodpile—his wolf. He blinked, not believing his eyes.

Quaid blinked again. The apparition faded into air. Damn, he was going crazy. No, he wasn’t, but thinking like that would surely make him. The logical explanation? An optical illusion. He’d been so concerned about not shifting that the position of the sun allowed his mind to play tricks. Nothing more.

Quaid tilted his hat, shielding his eyes against the late afternoon sun. This time of year the days were getting shorter.

He’d built his cabin just outside of White Mountain National Forest. The view surrounding him would be spectacular in a few weeks. The beauty and tranquility of the area allowed him to purge his mind of the horrors he’d experienced. He loved living in northern New Hampshire. I might stay here a good while this time.

Snatching up his ax, he shook off the chill running down his back. Quaid strode toward the pile of wood. It wouldn’t cut itself. The crunching of tires on gravel made him pause mid-swing. Damn, I miss my wolf. If he still had his beast, he would have heard the vehicle long before it reached his cabin. He embedded the ax in the stump then turned toward the intruder.

Quaid. Samuel Mallory stepped from his SUV. Sam appeared more relaxed than when Quaid saw him at Royce and Jenny’s mating ceremony. The smile took years off his face. Sam strode forward, extending his hand as he did. Good to see you back. His eyes dipped to Quaid’s feet then just as quickly returned to his face. How’s the prosthetic?

It’s good. He shook his friend’s hand. What brings you out here? You’re a long way from New York. He shifted his weight, trying to shake the sudden tension bunching his shoulders. How much did my folks bribe you to check on me?

I got a call from a concerned party asking me to come out to check on how you were doing.

Concerned party? It was a damn good thing his ax remained lodged in the stump or Quaid would have thrown it, probably splitting a tree. Does this concerned party have a name? Was it his imagination, or had he growled that last part?

Samuel laughed. It was Royce. It seems your family decided if you weren’t going to take their calls you might at least listen to me. Royce said he was up to his ears with important matters. He didn’t have time for another child throwing a temper-tantrum. So, he called me.

Temper-tantrum? He wasn’t—screw it! Anything else? Quaid droned. He didn’t think the man drove five hours just for that.

Morgan texted. He told me to give you a message. One scratch, you’re dead. He nodded toward Morgan’s black truck. I take it that’s what he’s talking about? Samuel strode past then sat on the steps. Next on my list of shit I’ve been ordered to discuss with you, for some reason a few members of the Council want to guarantee Simone stays institutionalized. They don’t think she has the social skills to live outside. They fear her giving us away.

That’s absolute bull!

I know it is. I’ve spoken to Simone. I find her extremely intelligent in an inelegant way. She might not know the medical terminology, but she knows her stuff. She explained to me what she did when trying to save your leg. I don’t think even I have that skill level. Who am I kidding? I know I don’t. She did it all with a scalpel and a sewing kit?

You’re telling me. I was the one being stitched up. I sat there in amazement, watching Simone’s fingers fly so fast they were a blur. Sam, that alone should tell the Council Simone’s life is valuable. There’s no reason for them to be afraid of her. She instantly knew which veins needed to be connected. He shook, thinking back to her surgical skill.

"Unless the Council members who want to lock her away perpetually are afraid she knows something that will get them locked away. Some could know about Simone’s eidetic memory."

Maybe we should ask her, Quaid snapped.

There lies the rub, Sam said. "The Council could be afraid someone will ask Simone what she knows."

If they are afraid she’ll spill on them, why imprison her? Why not just kill her? Even as the words tumbled from his mouth, fear’s icy claws gripped Quaid’s heart. No one would ever hurt her again if he had anything to say about it. The Council could kiss his furry ass. Well, his hairy ass.

Good question. Could be the Council’s afraid of what Matilda would do to them. That woman is scary on a good day.

You’re telling me. Glad Mattie isn’t my mother-in-law.

You sure about that? Sam laughed.

What? You know something I don’t?

Sam laughed louder, shaking his head. No. Quaid. You turned as white as a sheet. Damn. Anyway, half of the Council are kissing Royce’s ass after all the evidence Matilda and Simone handed over to him. The other half are busy pointing fingers at everyone they can.

Sam, who’s to say why the Council members are doing what they are doing. I know the files Matilda and Simone handed over to Royce opened a nasty can of worms. I’m beginning to think their reaction toward Simone is retribution, pure, and simple. He exhaled.

"Do you know what some of Dorjan’s ex-guards call Simone? They call her The Lost. It’s like—hell, I don’t know how to explain it. Ever since what she did spread like wildfire, they look at Simone like she’s some rock star. I guess when you consider how many women and children she helped save, I can understand. Maybe that’s why the Council wants to lock her away."

Maybe it’s retribution for being the monkey wrench in their well-oiled machine.

Possibly. But it doesn’t matter why the Council wants her. She needs protection. Who better to protect her than her mate?

Nice try, Sam. Well, until we figure out who it is, you’re going to have to be the one to keep her out of reach of the Council.

Sam’s eyebrows nearly rose into his receding hairline. I have to? Huh, interesting. All right. Now that I’ve filled you in on what everyone else wanted you to know, it’s my turn now.

No offense, but I don’t need—

Shut the hell up and listen to me. I’m a lot older than you, been there, done the same frigging thing you are now. It took me a hell of a long time to deal with my demons. Yeah, I hit rock bottom about a hundred and fifty years ago. Let me tell you that the only way out is if you stand up on your own two feet.

Two feet? Funny Sam. Real funny. Quaid couldn’t help poking the older man.

You know what I mean, damn it!

Quaid snapped his mouth shut, never recalling ever hearing the man raise his voice. He joined Samuel on the steps. Samuel was as mild-mannered as they came. Of course, Quaid always heard the quiet ones who were the deadliest. I’ve lost my wolf, Sam. I can’t shift. Hell, I can’t even get my eyes to glow, never mind fur to sprout.

You feel like you’re nothing without your wolf? Am I right?

Yeah, he admitted. It was the hardest thing he had to do. No, he’d take that back. Leaving Simone was the hardest thing he’d ever done. Then to add insult to injury, right before you arrived I saw my wolf perched on the woodpile over there. It wasn’t my imagination. The damn thing was as real as you and I. He just stood there. I blinked and he faded from sight.

Quaid exhaled. Strange as it was, it felt good to talk. Yeah. Losing my leg was one thing. Losing my wolf, I can’t seem to get my head around that.

Samuel leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. Okay let me tell you something young man. Young man? That was a joke. Quaid felt every day of his over two hundred years. When you live as long as we do, you expect to get into a funk. But this pity-poor-me-shit must go.

Pity-poor-me? Damn it, Sam! I’ve lost my wolf. I haven’t been able to shift since I lost my leg. He felt as if his guts were torn from him.

Quaid, it’s only been a little over five months since you lost your leg. You’re a Healer. You, of all people should know, healing involves more than flesh and bone. It also involves the mind and soul.

Once I shifted back, my wolf sulked off into the back of my mind. I haven’t sensed him since. Yeah, it wasn’t the loss of his leg that made him maudlin but the fact he couldn’t shift. As much as he used to bitch about that furry side of him, not having that part of him felt worse than being crippled.

You haven’t lost your wolf. Maybe you need to ask forgiveness of it.

Forgiveness? Of myself? For what?

Oh, I don’t know. Maybe some part of you is blaming your wolf for the loss of your leg. That’s for you to figure out, but the matter is simple.

Simple, my ass. Quaid stared at the dirt between his feet. Sam didn’t understand. Hell, no one did.

Your other problem, Sam continued. "You are going to have to keep Simone away from the Council. She calls you her Quaid. If Simone is your mate then it is your job, not mine. Samuel nodded as he stood. My work here is done. Speaking of work, get your head out of your ass. I’m tired of doing your job."

My job?

Yep. It should have been you who did Libby’s tongue transplant, not I. You stitch better than I do. A half smile curved Sam’s lips. I don’t think she minds her scar is a little off center. It’s not like she’s going to be sticking her tongue out at everyone.

Sam. The man thought he was a comedian. I know better than that. You were the one who trained me. Has she regained her voice yet? He needed some good news.

She has. The transplant was a success, but she hasn’t regained her sense of taste. Even as a Dhampir the ability to taste may be forever lost to her. Sam nodded. Her voice is a little rough. But she hadn’t used her vocal cords in years. She’s coming along fantastically with the speech therapy and voice lessons. I think she could even sing again. He shrugged. If she could, to begin with.

The other women? How are they doing? How is Simone? That was what he wanted to know but couldn’t bring himself to ask. Has she gained any weight? When they rescued the women, they all were walking skeletons.

Drummond took Morgan’s offer to work with him. Maria and Drummond left yesterday for Oregon. They’ve taken Libby with them. Mavis will be looking after them while you’re on hiatus. I gave Maria a final check. I think there’s a good chance she might be able to conceive, given Drummond is her true mate.

I read her file and the report you sent. There doesn’t seem to be damage to her reproductive organs from what she’s undergone. My concern is if she’ll be able to carry full term. The hell those women went through. Quaid shook his head. They were treated like damn lab rats.

If she conceives, I’ve told them both I want Maria monitored throughout her pregnancy. I don’t think it will be a problem. In case you are wondering they haven’t mated yet, Drummond confided in me. He knows the hell the women went through. Drummond understands the sexual torture they all suffered. Hell, he witnessed it, tried to put a stop to it. Anyways, as he put it, he’s helping Maria to see sex as a pleasure. Something beautiful shared by two people who love each other. Baby steps, he told me. As for the men? I know some have reunited with their families who’d escaped Dorjan’s rule earlier. Others have gone with Declan to Pennsylvania. Royce has some plans for them. Don’t know what. Sam arched his eyebrows expectantly as he hovered over Quaid.

What? Your son-in-law keeping you in the dark? Quaid laughed. After those who are still loyal to Zeno are weeded out, he wants to train and use them as part of quick response teams here in the States and the UK. Royce isn’t a fool. He knows some of the men are sleepers. Anyway, some of the mercs are already in the UK training with Royce. The rest are training under Declan. Royce is also trying to find jobs for the ones who didn’t want that kind of life anymore. Pop took on five to work on the ranch. Magnus DuMond is considering taking on a few to work security in his company. So far, everyone is getting a new start.

Not everyone. There’s still one.

Damn it, Quaid didn’t want to argue about this again. Sam.

Don’t Sam me. He shoved his finger in Quaid’s face. You rescued her from one prison only to put her in another.

Simone wasn’t put in prison! Quaid stood, not realizing he had until he glared down at Sam. She went to West Grove along with everyone else!

Only everyone else has a place to live with people who care about them, supporting them, while Simone’s stuck in a blasted hospital with no one. Her friends are no longer there. Simone has no family we can find. The only person who she wants anything to do with tucked his tail and ran for the hills. She needs to be out here. Sam threw his arms wide. She needs to be with people. You know the worst thing in the world is not to be wanted. By all that is good, man! Simone was held captive since the age of five! Five. Years. Old!

I know, Sam. I know. Every night when Quaid closed his eyes, he saw her big hazel eyes, her beautiful smile, but he couldn’t do a damn thing to help her. He wanted to protect her. He had to. He would do everything in his power to ensure her safety. But it’s not as bad as you’re making it out to be.

"Really! No matter how you look at it, Quaid, she’s still being held as a prisoner. Simone still wears hospital scrubs, granted they’re clean, but they’re the same type of clothing she wore when you found her. She still has a metal bed in her room, eats institutional food, and drinks processed blood. The only thing different is she isn’t raped nightly and beaten daily. But she still lives in fear. Simone still fears the male staff members. She walks around staring at the ground. Simone sleeps under her fricking bed! Under. It! Do you know why? Huh? Do you? Because she doesn’t want the male staff members to play with her." Shit, Sam even used air quotes. That’s what she calls the abuse she’d suffered—play! What type of fucking life is that?

Under the bed? Quaid’s heart dropped.

Yeah. Simone’s afraid if she sleeps in the bed she’ll be raped. Kinda puts perspective on the hell she’d endured.

He couldn’t argue with Sam. Quaid had seen Simone’s recent photo. She looked just like she had when he rescued her. Heavier, cleaner, but dressed the same. Simone might be healthier, but that wasn’t any way for his mate to live. She’s getting the nutrition she needs. He cringed, hearing the douchebag excuse leave his lips. Hell, he wanted to smack himself on the back of the head for the remark.

Sam’s eyes glowed. The man held onto his beast by a thread. Yeah, so she’s getting three squares a day. Feeding her body doesn’t feed her soul, her heart, her mind. She needs people to show her compassion. She needs to be loved. Simone needs to be shown she’s worthy of love. She needs—Hell! She needs you. She needs her mate!

Her mate? What makes you think I’m her mate?

Hmm. Good question. Maybe from the countless questions you asked about Simone? Maybe it’s the numerous times you’ve called to inquire about her wellbeing?

Maybe I called ‘cause I’m a caring Healer, Quaid grumbled.

Maybe. But I don’t think so. Don’t get me wrong, you are a good Healer. There is no question about that. But I think you called all the time to stay connected with your mate.

Sam was right. Quaid had called all those times to check on Simone. Hearing her name soothed the void in his heart. Sam, I can’t protect myself. How am I supposed to protect her? What if a Dorjan loyalist comes after Simone, how can half a man protect her?

Half a man? Quaid, Sam’s voice softened. Pity filled the older man’s eyes. I know human men and women who have returned from battle missing limbs. They suffered just like you are now. They survived and many have returned to combat. You’re only half a man if you make yourself one.

It’s more than losing my leg. I’ve lost my wolf! What am I supposed to do about it? Huh? Answer me that, Sam?

Sam quirked his gray eyebrow then shaking his head, he strode toward his SUV, his hands clasped behind his back. Maybe when you stop deceiving yourself about what Simone means to you and accept her as your mate, then perhaps you’ll solve your wolf problem.

Chapter Two

A re you sure you want this color, Rae, the owner of Rollers, Ribbons, and Rouge, asked.

Simone tugged the robe tighter around herself as she eyed the bright pink nail polish she’d chosen. Victoria, Quaid’s cousin, called the color Pepto-Bismol pink, while his sister, Miranda, dubbed it Barbie pink. Either way, Simone loved the color. Yes. It’s a happy color.

I like red, myself. Victoria wiggled a bottle of dark blood red color polish between her fingers. You can give your cheeks a rest. Your grin is in the clouds, love.

Staring up at the four women, Simone felt as if her heart would burst out of her chest. Sorry. The last time I’ve been this excited was during Hanukkah as a child.

Simone, relax. Quaid’s mother, Gwyn, smiled. I can hear your heart pounding.

Simone tried to relax and bring her smile out of the clouds, but she couldn’t, she was too happy. Gwyn, Miranda, and Victoria had surprised her with a trip to the salon for a makeover. Once they’d explained to her what they planned, Simone couldn’t wait to be made pretty. Maybe once Quaid saw her new look, he’d return home.

His leaving had hurt Gwyn. Simone knew it was her fault he went away. She just knew it.

We can do her mani-pedi while I process her hair. Rae tilted her head from side to side. Brightly colored purple hair peeked out from Rae’s dark brown locks. So, what do we want to do with Simone’s hair?

Anything would be an improvement to how she wears it now, Victoria answered.

All four women stared at Simone, each with a contemplative look in her eyes.

Simone’s attention bounced from Quaid’s mother to Miranda, to his cousin Victoria, then finally to Rae. Simone’s stomach fluttered under their scrutiny. She trusted all of them. In her heart, she knew they would never harm her. But the longer they stared silently at her, the more anxious she felt.

What’s wrong with how I wear my hair? Simone patted her bun. She didn’t know any other way to wear it. If she wore her hair hanging loose or pulled back in a ponytail the guards could grab it.

For one thing, girlfriend, Victoria said. Your bun is so severe your eyes are on the sides of your head.

No, they are not. My eyes are where they are supposed to be. They are here. She accidentally poked herself in the eye.

Gwyn shook her head. Miranda sighed. Victoria rolled her eyes.

Simone folded her hands in her lap. She’d messed up again.

Rae grimaced. Hmm, let’s look at some books.

Good idea, Victoria said. I’ll search Pinterest.

I’m Googling, Miranda replied.

Victoria and Miranda pulled out their phones then quickly began tapping the screens. Texting, Mr. Dobson had called it. When she’d asked him to teach her, he’d told her there was no use, seeing she would never own a smartphone. He’d laughed at her. Who would you text? You have no friends. No one wants you, not even your so-called-mate.

Ooo, I like that one. Rae, what do you think? Miranda asked, looking over Victoria’s shoulder.

I want to see. Simone stared up at Miranda. Can I see?

Sure. Miranda turned her phone facing her. What do you think?

I like the second one, she told them. The woman’s hair was short with bright pink streaks running through it.

It’s nice, but what about this one? Victoria asked. I’m thinking with caramel highlights. What do you think, Rae?

I think it would be too harsh for her. Scroll down. That one. What do you think, Gwyn?

Gwyn stood behind Simone, looking at the photo. That cut would look cute on you. Simone, why do you call my son, your Quaid? Do you sense he’s your mate?

Simone gasped. Ah. I...Ah.

Way to blindside Simone, Mom, Miranda muttered.

Gwyn arched her eyebrow at Miranda. I want to know. I always prefer the direct approach.

Umm... Simone cast her eyes at Rae. Rule number one, the Dhampir must never reveal themselves to humans.

As if sensing Simone’s hesitancy, Gwyn nodded. It’s okay. Rae knows about us. She is dating Ryder Campbell, Vaughn and Victoria’s nephew.

"He wants us to date, Rae made air quotes. before we mate. I think he’s trying to figure out a way to tell his parents, especially his mom. She wants him to move back to Scotland."

Miranda laughed. Oh, please. Rae, you don’t have to worry about that. Victoria’s already taken care of it for you. Heck, she called Aileen the moment Ryder told us. Didn’t you, Vic?

Maybe. Possibly. I might have mentioned something to Aileen in passing. I think. Don’t worry, Rae. If I like you for my nephew, I know Aileen will love you.

Rae’s face turned red as Victoria’s nails. Changing the subject. Let’s have a look at your hair. She removed the hairpins holding Simone’s bun in place. You won’t need these anymore.