Page 1 of The Rust in Her Hair

The Van Houten Public Library

Lyra

"Hello, there, little omega." Crispin finds me not far from the bar.

He always finds me.

I don't know how he does it in a ballroom packed with over two hundred people in black tie. But the alpha is nothing if not persistent.

"Pretty, little Lyra." Crispin’s eyes flash as he says my name, making something in my stomach pull tight. "I’ve been looking everywhere for you." His hand presses to the small of my back.

My body freezes the way it always does when he touches me. I hate that I can't pull away. The one time I tried, my father saw. Later, when we got home, he grabbed my arm and twisted it behind my back until I cried out. He told me I was being dramatic, and that embarrassing him in front of a man like Crispin Maleth was not something he would tolerate again.

Every time I see Crispin, a phantom pain shoots through my wrist, reminding me not to piss my father off again.

I should have stayed home.

"Good evening, Mr. Maleth." I manage a tight smile.

"Crispin," he says, once again correcting me to use his first name. "Call me Crispin, gorgeous." His hand moves, and I feel the pressure of each finger dig into the shimmering, pink sequins of my dress. His gaze drops to my chest, before moving back up to my face.

I chose this dress specifically for its high neckline, hoping it would keep his eyes where they belong, but Crispin looks at me like the fabric isn't even there.

Charming.

"You look beautiful tonight." He winks and I nod, quickly scanning the people around us.

I need to find Calla. She’d save me. But she’s nowhere in sight.

Across the room my father catches my eye and raises his glass.

He’s smiling.

It’s weird.

He’s been this way all evening. Happy and almost warm…which is a word I have never associated with either one of my parents.

I smile back at my father because there’s nothing else I can do.

One second. I just need him to look somewhere else for one second, so I can shove this asshole away.

"Are you enjoying the party?" Crispin asks, and whiskey rolls off his breath and into my face, mixing with his powerful alpha scent. It’s dark musk and clove and something underneath that always makes me want to run straight for the door.

I glance to the side once more. Yup, Father is still looking.

Annoyed, I pull in a slow breath and look up into Crispin's face.

He's such a big alpha. Broad through the shoulders and thick through the neck. But his edges are soft. Smooth, clean-shaved. Neatly trimmed nails. And his black hair is perfectly styled. Even the sparse gray hairs near his temples are perfectly positioned.

It’s a lot of effort for an alpha with such poor manners.

"Lyra?" Crispin’s voice rises and my eyes snap to his. "Did you hear me?" His gray eyes narrow.

I breathe through my mouth, desperate to get away from his overwhelming scent.

"I'm having a lovely time," I say, scanning the room past his shoulder.

Where the hell is Calla?