CHAPTER 8

I was terrified to death by the way Mesa gripped my hair. She had my hair angled so that I thought she was going to shave it all off. She stretched it out to its full length while yanking on my scalp, and I cleaned my eyes with my hands while pretending to be asleep.

I ought to have slept.

She continued to pull at it from every direction while saying, "You have so much hair," as she stared at it in astonishment. "How on earth do you even manage to brush this much hair?"

I sigh. I don't brush it very often since, despite everything, I think I'm simply fortunate. It is perfectly straight. It never knots because the silk is bone straight. Well, when it gets this long (it's currently below my ass and almost at my knees), it sometimes knots, but usually not when it's at my waist or just above my hips. I suppose having silky straight hair has its benefits, but it can be difficult to style into any kind of braid or bun.

"Ava, how brief do you want it?" When Mesa asks, I look down at my hair and try to figure out why I'll miss it. I have hair that grows incredibly quickly.

Hair typically grows 6 inches a year on average. My hair grows at a rate of nearly four times that, or around twenty-four inches per year and two inches each month.

My private school had tight rules regarding hair length, and at a certain length, my hair just got in the way of everything. I remember my mother becoming frustrated every six weeks when she had to get me a haircut. The assassins' wanted it to be waist-to-hip length, but I still feel a little loss every time my hair is either cut or clipped. According to them, it was just long enough to be attractive and short enough to not get in the way. Although I objected, the choice wasn't really mine.

The hair on top of my shoulders was taken between Mesa's fingertips while she grinned seductively.

Mesa smiled and said, "This length should be just fine then," and I squeaked.

You want to have all of my hair taken off? My words were so sluggish because of how sleepy I felt that I nearly screamed at her.

"Not every. I yanked my hair out of her grasping hands, "just to shoulder length." I reply, "No," to her.

She begins, "Listen," again grabbing a few of my hair strands in defiance of me. "A picture of you with your brilliant blue eyes and hip-length black hair appears on the top page of every newspaper in your pack. Most certainly, the newspaper has been distributed. Therefore, there is no way in hell that you can resemble the iconic Ava if we are going to do this.

However, I am Ava. I argue while sighing wearily. "Mesa, your long, luscious hair contributes to your seductive appeal to men. How is Storm going to fall for me if you take that away?

Mesa settles down next to me and sighs. "Even the best Assassin makes foolish statements occasionally. Men hunger for beauty and fall in love with personalities. You are aware of that.

She was correct, but I tended to favor lust over love most of the time. Simply put, that technique is much simpler. Love is a very slow process. You have to shape yourself to fit someone else's ideal of you in order to achieve that. "Your hair is gorgeous, but if you go into that pack looking exactly like the newspaper print, then at some point, someone is bound to recognize you, Ava, and once your cover is blown, then that's it." I mull it over for a while as I stare at the clumps of my hair that were gathered like a rug on my thighs. Moreover, hair grows back, and yours grows quickly," Mesa adds, to my agreement but still disapproval. She again grabs my hair, the scissors, and the comb.

The sheer volume of hair that piled at my feet as I stared surprised even me in its size. I fingered the strands that accumulated above my shoulders as she cut my bangs since she wouldn't allow me to look in the mirror once she was done. I pretended not to notice as more hair dropped.

I'm eager to finish this, seduce this Alpha Storm, take that stone, and then depart on vacation. It was just a necessary sacrifice, really.

"Done," said Mesa. She refused to let me see it, despite my requests. "No. If you see it and don't like it, you'll probably decide differently, and I'll have to spend hours persuading you. Yes, I can essentially just pick up all the strands on the ground and re-attach them to my head if I don't want that. I scoff and wonder why we didn't simply use a wig. However, I am aware from personal experience that my hair would not have fit in one.

Mesa yells, "Give me your ring," pointing to the assassins' ring on my left second finger.

"Why?" I inquire, bringing my hand up to my heart. I never removed it. Never taking off the mate bond ring is against one of our Assassins' vows. Finding our soul partner cannot ever be in danger.

I gaze at her with anger in my eyes as she continues, "Don't worry, Ava, your mate isn't anywhere around us, so it's safe," as if she could read my mind. How are you doing?

"I am aware that assassins wear the ring to avoid meeting their partners. All mate bond rings are produced by witches, and your pack uses them frequently; therefore, no one ever suspects an assassin when they see the ring, which is how I know this. Give it now. She offers her hand as a gesture.

"How do you know that my mate isn't anywhere near us?" I wanted to ask. I ask her a question while my eyes are closed.

"Gift," she says. "I see things. I was endowed with the capacity to recognize each person's gifted partner.

"So, who is-" I pause before asking the full question and decide I don't want to know. Its better that I remain ignorant. So I shift the subject instead. I asked, "Why do you need my ring?"

I must cast a number of spells on it. Your look will alter after the first spell. Actually, not quite. I cast a wary glance her way and said, "It'll just change the color of your eyes and hair." The others, too?

The Alpha won't be able to smell the dozens or even hundreds of wolves you've likely mated with thanks to another who will mask your scent.

I give her a snide glare. Yeah, actually being skilled at sex is such a turn-off.

"One of the last crucial spells will enable me to appear to you at any time if you ever need me or are just in distress; all you have to do is delicately scratch your ring three times. So to speak, it's a personal link for us."

She beams confidently, as if praising herself for coming up with these ideas that she believes to be somewhat infallible. I object to her plans to alter the way I look. Without her sleek, long black hair, piercing blue eyes, and perfect, radiant complexion, who is Ava? But I realize that she's taking this action to lessen the likelihood that I'll be discovered. This gives me even more reason to despise Alpha Max. He has made sure that everyone now knows how I look!

She stretches out her hands once more, motioning with her fingers for me to hand her the ring. I do so reluctantly.

My finger immediately feels exposed. I haven't taken off that ring since I acquired it six years ago, and I miss having it. I abruptly stop feeling like Ava as I stare at the ring-related dent on my finger. I feel different, at least physically.

Mesa remains silent while gazing down at the ring. Her silver eyes start to sparkle.

"Tell me about Storm," I begin. "You want me to seduce him, but neither you nor Aiden have given me any information about his character or what makes him desire to be with me. You know it doesn't work like that. But with this Storm guy, all I know is that he's the Alpha of the most boring pack in existence. For us, anytime we get a target, we also get information on that target—their personality type, favorite food, allergies, sexual preferences, and anything else.

And that is all you need to know. She says she's going to sit down as I stand there and look at her while she continues to have a radiant look in her eyes as she examines my ring.

"Mesa, that isn't enough to accomplish anything. You seem to be setting me up for failure in this situation. You first wanted to steal my appearance, and now you're not even providing me with adequate information about the location or the target of my seduction. Has he found a partner? Is he vicious? "Tell me!"

Mesa sighs and wraps my ring in her palm while staring up at me and crossing her arms.

Storm is quite good at interpreting nonverbal cues, Rose. You need to be your most innocent, impartial self to approach him. Because of your past experiences, you might respond too quickly if I told you what he's like, and Storm would grab you. Everything ends the second he gets you. You must act as though you weren't trying to trick him and that everything was truly sincere if you want him to fall for you. To make him aware of that, you must get to know him personally. If you already know your target, he will not view your interest in mapping him as a real interest in getting to know him. What in the name of God is this discourse for? These guys want me to have a sexual encounter with a stranger. Are they insane? Ava, I'm serious. Storm will be aware if you even go so far as to stare at him incorrectly. The only thing I'll say about Storm is that you have to be pure to approach him.

I guffaw. Was she referring to virginity? When I was fourteen, I lost that sister. This is seriously so funny. I chuckle out loud, finding it odd that my hair doesn't fall over my shoulders and back.

"Stupid, I don't mean your body. I refer to your emotions and thought processes. Consider this to be your toughest acting challenge. And no, he still hasn't found his soul mate. I exhaled a hot breath. There is no progress here. What even does this Storm resemble? When I first see him, how will I recognize him? The only thing I took away from this pointless conversation is that if Mesa had been in charge of the Assassins, we would all already be on the streets. She has no knowledge of the actual mechanics of this seduction game. In order to shape myself into the seduction archetype that my target is most likely to be drawn to, seduced by, and fall for, I must first determine his personality type. It's fucking mental work.

You see, some men prefer assertive women. Others are adorable, reserved, excessively sexual, pretentious, promiscuous, and, my least favorite, genuinely naive individuals. I would have already lost the war if I had adopted the incorrect seducer archetype for my target. I need to understand Storm's characteristics so that I can predict the kind of woman who will persuade him to compromise his principles.

I only infer from Mesa that he might enjoy the innocent stereotype. Or perhaps we should work together until I figure him out? Okay, I'll go with innocent to be on the safe side. The holiest ones are typically the freakiest; they just manage to conceal it better than anybody else, so I really don't know. He is, after all, meant to be the Alpha of the "holier than thou" wolf.

Mesa chuckles, cutting me off. "Another thing, Ava." "Be careful with his pack," I advise. "Why?"

She claims that "they speak a different language in their minds."

"You mean the mind link?" Each member of a pack has the ability to communicate with the others in their heads, or they can choose to block it out. Particularly in smaller groups, it happens. We simply have too many members in my pack, and we've never had it, so we don't have it. Even still, I believe the Assassins would have greatly benefited from having this. That is true, yet it is different. When they communicate verbally, they do so in a different language or manner than when they do so mentally. Only those who have been connected to them since childhood may master it because it is extremely specialized and extremely old. As a result, most of them rarely speak aloud since they find verbal communication to be unusual and occasionally difficult.

Mouth wide open, I say. I'm now certain that I'm being taken to a mental institution. A group in which nobody speaks? I must be dreaming, Moon; please devour me completely. I am Ava. Everything about this is a terrible nightmare. My point is that most of the time in that pack, you don't know what anyone is thinking because they won't say anything to you. I should have stayed in my pack, wooing rich mofos, instead of trying to do some unique missions with the moon's pack. So take care. She looks me straight in the eyes when she says, "Just watch their eyes very intently. You're entering into territory where if someone snuffs you out, everyone would probably know before you even think anything. I don't know what she's talking about since I can lie with my eyes really effectively; very few people can. When they made us Assassin trainees, they taught us how to do it as the very first thing. The advice to "don't let your eyes betray you" was shouted at me so frequently that it simply became a part of me.

Mesa extended her hand to give me my ring. Never remove it. As soon as you do, your appearance will return to normal, and they will recognize you. Therefore, keep this ring safe at all costs.

I gave a head nod before putting the ring on. I stumbled to the floor as I did.