A grim expression straightened the lines of what otherwise might have been a generous, sensuous mouth. His short, military-style buzz cut Weed Whacked hair the color of iron.
And not just the hair. Without doubt, metal fortified every single cell in this male’s body, as if pure titanium flowed in his veins. Though he lounged in the hallway like any Archie or Jughead waiting on line to discharge his rented beer in a urinal, his carriage and bearing were such that he made the others look like a pack of Twizzlers. Oh. Yeah. More than a mere guardsman, she guessed. An enforcer.