27 Beneath The Makeup

"Do you want to wash your face or do you need me to help you?" Eros knelt down to my level, blue eyes rested on my teary eyes before dropping a bottle of something in my lap.

His sharp expression seemed to soften.

I glanced down at the purple bottle and read the label.

Exfoliating face wash.

Great.

"I can do it myself," I growled out and grabbed the stupid bottle off of my lap.

He watched me for a good 30 seconds to confirm that I wasn't lying before turning off the water from the shower head.

I can imagine how ridiculous I must look right now with my wet hair matted to my face and my clothes sticking to my skin almost like a drowned rat.

Eros grabbed my wrist and lifted me out of the bathtub.

He set me on my two feet and watched as the water dripped from my hair and clothes to collect on the marble floors.

Shivering, I walked over to the sink, all the while glancing at him from the corner of my eyes.

It's obvious that Eros knows a lot more than what he's letting on.

He probably knew that I was hiding my appearance way before we even started that meal.

That's the only reason why he is so adamant about me washing my face.

In fact, I doubt he would let me leave the bathroom without cleaning my face off.

I clenched my jaw and slowly turned on the faucet to start the water flow.

Eros took a step back, crossed his arms and leaned his back against the door.

His eyes never left my face as he waited for my next move.

I splashed water onto my face, picked up the bottle and squeezed a moderate dollop of the face wash onto my hands before applying it to my skin.

The little grains really helped remove quite a bit of the foundation and concealer without really scratching my face in the process.

After almost 2 minutes, I stopped the faucet.

"Again," he said out of nowhere, urging me with a tilt of his chin.

I pursed my lips and had to swallow down the urge to punch him in the face again, even if it would have no effect on him.

At least then I would feel a little more relief.

I ended up washing my face 3 times before all of the foundation finally came off of my skin and drifted down the drain.

My heart was starting to pound incessantly in my chest the closer I came to exposing my true features to him.

Why am I so afraid to show him my face?

It's not like I'm the only one who doesn't age like normal humans.

Werewolves also age quite differently compared to the average mortal, yet I was kind of hesitant.

I realized that it wasn't about revealing my face to him, it was about revealing all of my deepest, darkest and ugliest secrets for him to inspect.

But I can't hide it forever.

Oh, to hell with it!

I took a deep breath to calm my nerves and finally lifted my head to meet his gaze.

I can see my reflection in his eyes.

My pretty wide brown eyes lined with thick long sooty lashes, smooth unblemished skin, flushed soft cheeks, long dark brown hair, and full pouty pink lips stared back at me.

Slightly exotic, fairly cute and youthful looking.

The real me.

The me that resembles an 18-year-old high school student who can't purchase alcohol without getting in trouble for underage drinking.

The me who has somehow forgotten what I really look like after concealing my face for so long.

At his unwavering ogling, my breath became stuck in my throat while my palms were sweaty from nervousness and embarrassment.

I felt highly uncomfortable being uncovered and exposed to him in such a way.

Everything about me was being bared for him to pick at.

It made me feel unsettled, my stomach protesting with a wave of nausea.

Eros looked utterly stunned, losing his cool lazy facial composure for a split second before managing to recover it.

The slight quirk at the corner of his lips lifted a little higher in a laid back way, and his eyes brightened with a hint of approval or appeasement, I couldn't tell.