KAEL'S POV
"It's… hair dye," she said, soft but steady.
A lie. A beautifully delivered one, but still a lie.
It was in her eyes—the flicker too quick to catch for most. The faintest tightness in her jaw, the slight lift of her shoulder as though she prepared to defend herself.
She was expecting disbelief.
Most men might have believed her. Might have nodded, smiled, perhaps even chuckled and moved on.
But I wasn't most men.
And I wasn't laughing.
My gaze lingered on the strands between my fingers—fine, silky, unmarred by the thick, chemical sheen of dyes.
It didn't look fake. It didn't smell fake. It smelled like cool water and something faintly sweet, something wild.
Still, I said nothing. I could've called her bluff. I could've asked again, pushed just slightly harder, and made her squirm.
But I didn't.
Because if I wasn't wrong… if this really was her natural hair, then the question of what she was became far more dangerous.
