Carrick listened gravely. "I'm not going to whip you," he said, after a long silence. "I was going to. But I reflected on things, and you can't be blamed for telling Russell what really went on in the hotel - I know how intimidating he can be."
He looked steadily at his slave. "Though it saddens me to think I can;t take you into my confidence." The vampire knew how loyal Hermes was, how much he desperately wanted to please his Master. Let the disappointment he was showing in his slave be punishment enough.
Thank you, Samandriel, he thought sourly. If that was mercy, he wasn't sure that the slave wouldn't actually prefer a thrashing.
"There are any number of beauty salons in town," he said coolly. "You can make an appointment with any of them that seems suitable. Ask Karena for some recommendations." He thought of his daughter's fondness for edgy and avant-garde styles. He'd been aghast in the late 19th century when she first started wearing bloomers and refusing to tight-lace. "Actually. no. Don't do that."
He reached up and stroked the slave's hair. it was still soft and thick, even though it had turned snowy white seemingly almost overnight.
"Have you ever heard of this happening to another fae?" he asked, his neutral tone giving away none of the unease he felt.