Coldsnap: The Billionaire Alpha's Fated Pregnant Princess (GL)
Chapter 33 - Oiling The Gears Of Paranoia

Chapter 33: Chapter 33 - Oiling The Gears Of Paranoia

"Your shoulders are especially tense. Try to release some of it when you inhale. That’s it."

Despite my quiet nerves after Victoria’s unwelcome introduction, Dahlia had been a true professional.

Soothing pressure worked across my body with firm hands. Never hesitant to work where requested after our talk.

Whatever issues I now have with Crystalline Spa... at least the actual services were delivered with impressive competence.

Not everyone in this place was likely to be playing social games behind the scenes. Some were simply doing their jobs.

I should believe that, if I want to have even a fraction of optimism toward Kyrie Voss.

The warm oil she used was ’designed’ before she began, based on my preference and mood. Delivered from the spa’s resident ’aromatherapist’.

It smelled of black pepper, patchouli, and peppermint.

> She looked at me strangely at the time, but this combination reminds me of home, sort of. Not quite... but close. <

Vrika had been quiet and contemplative since I complimented their eyes by comparing them to my favorite gem. Though I’ve continued to pop in my own head and speak to it occasionally during the session.

To not feel as alone.

Under her skillful touch, even my most guarded instincts eventually surrendered to relaxation. I don’t even flinch when she works on my stomach.

Though whether that is because I accepted she was not a threat or because I’d already experienced the reaction once is hard to say.

By the time she finished and began toweling off any obvious excess, all my muscles felt pliant and warm. Knowing it would only go ’downhill’ as each day went by was almost sad.

> As I thought, the plan was surely to addict me to luxury. <

Not even a whine. Well, I don’t have the emotional capacity to manage both of us.

"All done. So, how was your first massage with us?"

I felt a sense of bittersweet gratitude.

"It was lovely. Thank you, Dahlia."

...Because I knew I couldn’t stay in this oily cocoon of comfort forever.

⧖ ☾ ❄ ☽ ⧖

Led back to my private room, I immediately checked my backpack where I’d left it in the corner. Paranoia, perhaps, but easily justified after learning that the privacy here was more theoretical than actual.

The main compartment’s zipper appeared undisturbed, but that meant little to anyone cleverenough to move it back to the same side. The jacket also seemed to look about as I remember from stuffing it inside in that park.

"Journal, necklace, knife."

I exhaled slowly. Nothing seemed to have been tampered with.

But the feeling of security I’d started to build when Tess, that pink haired salon woman, and Sonya had all been so... nice... was now damaged nonetheless.

"You realize you’ve been looking for evidence of betrayal from the moment you arrived in this world, don’t you?"

The whispered observation of mine stung with its accuracy. Trust had never come easily to me, even in my original life.

I’d been taught from childhood that everyone had an agenda. Then I’d woken here to memories of Chad, Jace, and this woman’s parents.

That lesson in practical cynicism appeared to be universal across worlds.

I sat down on the edge of the bed with my oil layered skin, waiting for it to soak in further as had been suggested. With my limited possessions safe, I slowly lay down.

> I guess they do have some nice silk. A shame it is undyed and cut in this awfully simple style. <

The thin robe I was given this time when exiting the massage room was less absorbent than the cotton ones meant to wick my skin from the water.

But it was a lot more comfortable to someone used to lounging in similar wear.

"This is arguably the most like myself I’ve been since arriving."

Naked beneath only a thin robe, laying in a private room and thinking of making an escape. How familiar.

It’s strange how I’ve run away from a werewolf pack, into a werewolf city, and somehow ended up the same as I was in the palace. Essentially.

But I honestly have not planned where to go when I do leave, unlike back then... where I usually had a schedule of who to visit and a method of sneaking out already in place.

This place is just a temporary stop.

I close my eyes and enter the mindscape. My pawed form moves tiredly over to the wolf sitting vigilantly and moodily.

> Vrika, I want to nap. Do you mind? <

With only a short look before it raised its face back up, I have my answer. I settle and curl into my still cream colored tail.

And ignore the swirls of misty, foxfire blue at the edges of my vision.

⧖ ☾ ❄ ☽ ⧖

A knock at the door announced the return of the spa attendant attached to me. The system clock tells me that it has been about an hour and a half.

The glyphs also tell me that something has changed in the Task section. But I could care less.

Checking that had only ruined my mood the last time. Why would I go through that again?

"Are you ready for the final treatment of your package? The salon is prepared for you."

Her smile seemed better than earlier. I stood and gathered my backpack.

"Oh, you weren’t planning to leave before then, were you?"

"No, I just prefer to keep my belongings with me this time."

I replied with a polite but firm smile. Some sort of emotion flashed in her eyes, but she nodded.

"Of course. The salon is this way."

As we walked the same direction from before the bath, I noticed all the subtle shifts in the overall atmosphere. Very clear to me because I had been watching everyone closely from the beginning.

Staff members who had barely glanced at me earlier now watched with slightly too-long looks. A woman at the salon reception desk whispered something to her colleague as we passed.

I’d love to think that it is purely because of my looks, now that I’ve gone through treatments.

> Contrary to popular belief, vain people know exactly when they are being looked at for their beauty. Only a self-obsessed moron can stroll through a room of whispers and think it is appreciative murmurs. <

And a werewolf, at least, has very good hearing. News travels fast in the technological age of this world.

Victoria’s little display had turned me into someone of interest. Or perhaps a client to be wary of.

For they have noted me as someone unafraid to talk back to a Whitecrest.

"As I explained before, we offer a very full range of services here. Hair styling, treatments, coloring if desired. Please keep our establishment in mind if you decide to try another change in the future."

Tess tacked on a salesperson spiel. Unlike the dim, intimate lighting of the lounge and massage room, this space was brightly lit - to aid and showcase the work of the stylists.

Mirrors lined the walls with gleaming ’chrome’ fixtures that caught the light. The air also smelled of all kinds of expensive products.

Our palace had a place somewhat like this, for the craft of the royal barber. Meticulous appearance was recognized by most royalty as the political tool it truly was.

Led to a new station where a tall woman with sleek black hair waited with her fingers resting on the leather chair... I squared my shoulders instinctively as I swung the pack from them and set it down to stay in my line of sight.

> Look like a force, like a goddess, like an icon... and people will begin to think of you as such. Or so the Queen Mother’s late mother taught me through her diary. <

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