MISS LEOZANDRA'S

Nalini Singh

This text was originally written as a continuation of  the scene that ended on page 166 of  Caressed by Ice with Brenna saying: “Miss Leozandra’s.” to Vaughn.

Why didn’t it make it into the book?  First, there was a small timing issue that meant not everyone who was in the scene could be there, so keep that in mind as you read this. The timeline will not merge perfectly with the book – instead, I’d advise you to read this as a completely separate scene.

Another reason this scene didn’t end up in the book was that I didn’t feel it gave the reader any new information – but it was just so darn fun to write I couldn’t stop myself. I hope you enjoy!

The smile turned into a dark scowl. “What is it with that place?”

She didn’t understand his comment until she walked into the beauty parlor. Tamsyn, Sascha and Faith were lined up getting pedicures. Vaughn had chosen to wait outside. “Hey, I didn’t expect to see you here.” She’d just wanted to feel normal today, but Sascha might want to continue the discussion they’d been having this morning.

Faith was the first to speak. “Hello, Brenna.” A soft smile that belied the strain in her eyes.

“Hi.” Brenna wanted to ask what was wrong but then saw Sascha place a hand over the other woman’s and something clicked in her mind. “It must be strange for you, being out here in the middle of so many people.” She didn’t know everything, but the rumor was that Faith had grown up pretty isolated.

The F-Psy took a deep breath. “Yes, but I’m determined to not be a recluse. So, have you come to join us in this ritual of female bonding? I was skeptical at first but I do believe I like having “Coral Crush” paint on my toenails.” She wiggled one completed foot.

Sascha laughed. “We’re taking her lingerie shopping next.” Her eyes told Brenna not to worry.

“Mean, mean.” Brenna grinned, glad for Sascha’s empathic gifts at this moment. “Torturing your mate that way.”

Faith’s smile widened. “Oh, I think a little torture is good for my kitty-cat.”

The door opened an inch. “I heard that.” A low male growl.

“Stop eavesdropping,” Tamsyn ordered. “We want to talk girl stuff. Promise to scream if we need you.”

Tamsyn’s comment was followed by a negotiation where Vaughn eventually agreed to wait on the other side of the street, where he could still see them, but not hear their conversation.

“Wonder who else is out there shadowing us?” Sascha murmured.

“Oh, let’s see,” Tamsyn leaned back in her recliner, “two of us are mated to sentinels and then there’s you and Lucas. Wanna play “who’s more protective?”

“I win.” Brenna raised her hand. “Two brothers, a pack alpha, the cats and my own man.”

The other three glanced at her, then nodded unanimously. “You win.”

Miss Leozandra swanned out of the back room at that instant, a vision in a purple caftan patterned with shimmering gold leaf.

“Brenna, my dear!” She air-kissed both of Brenna’s cheeks, her manner as flamboyant as her hair—a deep rose, the short strands spiked up and frosted sapphire blue at the tips. “Who did your hair darling?” A disapproving look. “It’s—” She waved her hands in dismay.

Brenna caught the others’ concerned looks but they needn’t have worried. Miss Leozandra was treating her exactly as she wanted to be treated. “Isn’t it hideous?” She grinned. “Can you fix it?”

The older woman tapped at her cheek with one gold-flecked nail. “Well, I suppose a nicer cut—”

“No.” Brenna had made up her mind yesterday. “Extensions. High end.” She could afford it and this was one thing she could fix.

“Oooh.” Miss Leozandra clapped her hands. “Come on.”

So it was that Brenna got down to business with Miss Leozandra herself rather than one of her assistants, accompanied by Tamsyn’s vocal opinions and Sascha’s quieter words. 

“I’m using gen-synth strands.” The hairstylist laid several strands across Brenna’s palm as she sat in the styling chair.

“They’re white…no, transparent.” She could barely see them and her sight was very sharp.

“But the second they bond to your hair, they’ll start taking on its color and texture. Smart.”

Brenna was impressed. “The bonding—glue?”

Miss Leozandra sniffed. “Out decades ago. We use a laser bonder that literally sews the molecules of the strands together. When I’m done, no one—not even you—will be able to tell where your hair ends and the extensions begin.”

“How long will they last?”

“Until you cut them off.” Miss Leozandra began smoothing Brenna’s hair down with some sort of gel. “Helps the bonding. I’m going to go shoulder length with you. The gen-synth fibers are light but no sense overloading it. We can always add more in later if you want.”

Brenna’s was smiling so hard her face ached. “Let’s do it.”

The process was slow. Very slow. The DarkRiver women left partway to do their shopping, popped in an hour later to check on her and eat lunch—supplied by Miss Leozandra’s personal chef, then returned again just as Miss Leozandra whipped off the styling cape and spun the chair around to face the mirror. “Ta-dah!”

Brenna’s eyes widened. “I have bangs!” Delighted, she ran her fingers through the length of her hair. Smooth, perfect—Miss Leozandra hadn’t been exaggerating. Brenna could feel nothing which might’ve denoted a join. “This stuff is amazing!”

“And it’s on the house.” The stylist squeezed her shoulders.

Brenna felt her joy go flat—did the other woman know? “That’s not—”

Miss Leozandra waved a hand, nails flashing. “Miss Leozandra never forgets a favor. That computer you sorted out last time is working so well we won’t need a replacement for years. And the improvement you made to the automatic answering service is getting me compliments from across town. All of which is worth a whole lot more than what I did for you today. So take it and no lip.”

Brenna smiled, joy returning. “In that case, I accept.”

“Good. Because I have a feeling I’m going to need that clever brain of yours again soon—we’re thinking of installing a security bot after hours.” She smiled at Sascha. “Your people are good with keeping us safe but I like to look after my own patch.”

Robotics wasn’t Brenna’s field, but she could do basic maintenance, and if necessary, hook the stylist up with a friend from college who was a genius in the area. Looking into the mirror, she met the eyes of the other three women. “So?”

“Gorgeous.” Tamsyn grinned. “Not fair.”

“I’m glad my work is appreciated.” A beaming Miss Leozandra gave her hair a final look, then went to supervise one of her assistants.

Brenna was about to reply when something bit at her ankle. Yelping, she raised up her legs. Two small leopard cubs scooted out from under her and ran to hide behind Tamsyn. “How did they—?”

Laughing so hard she couldn’t speak, Tamsyn reached down and grabbed her twins. “S-s-sorry.” She waved at Sascha.

The Psy grinned. “Clay was keeping an eye on them while we shopped. They spent a whole day with sentinels and soldiers. I’m afraid you’ve been the target of one of their hunts. Actually I think you just got eaten.”

Brenna laughed, her heartbeat slowing down. She was used to wolf pups trying out their stalking skills on unprepared adults. “They’re very good.” The adorable twosome peered at her from their mother’s arms, their eyes a beautiful green-gold not found in wolves.

Sascha took one of the cubs when he wiggled and jumped toward her. “Julian thinks you look pretty, even if you are a wolf. Your hair’s not as dark as his coat but he likes it anyway.”

“Thank you, Julian,” she said solemnly.

“And I think you feel lovely, too.” Sascha’s smile was gentle.

Faith had remained silent to that point, watchful. “Now you see the woman you’ve always been.”

“I just needed the physical validation, you know?”

“I know.” Faith’s night-sky eyes flashed black for a second. “Maybe it’s time you got back. We all should go back.”

When a foreseer spoke in that eerie tone, everyone listened.