Disappointment was what Zaeryn felt when he leaned closer running a hand along his jaw. It was perfectly smooth and clean-shaven.
No stubble, no shadow—nothing. He frowned slightly, tilting his head to inspect his upper lip. "Still no mustache," he muttered, a mix of amusement and disappointment in his voice.
He couldn't help the thought. A stupid, lingering vanity from his past life.
For the second time, he ran a hand over his clean-shaven jaw, the smooth skin a constant reminder of his boyish, almost feminine features. Sometimes, he felt like he looked too feminine and not manly enough. It was a face built for charm, for getting a rise out of women like a flustered Aeris or a teasing Sage. But it wasn't a face that commanded respect.
