Page 10 of The Rust in Her Hair

I follow Adrian into the kitchen and stop in the doorway, looking around.

The sink is empty and the white countertops are wiped down. The rest of the empty bottles are already rinsed and lined up next to the sink, waiting for the recycling bin. The trash has been pulled and tied off, sitting by the back door. Even the bowl of leftover chips from the table has been cleaned.

"Wow," I say, impressed. "I was coming to help."

"No need." Adrian rinses out the empty bottle.

I cross the kitchen and slide an arm around his waist from behind, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck below his ear. While I love poker nights, it’s hell not being able to touch my mates when we have company. Tony and Pete were here for four hours, and the whole time my hands were tingling to reach out and squeeze Mack’s thigh or caress Adrian’s back.

"It’s been a long day." Adrian leans back into me for a second, his hand coming up to rest on my forearm. I caress his firm chest as I inhale his lush pine scent.

"You smell so good," I rumble against his neck.

Adrian turns his head and I kiss his lips the way I've been wanting to all evening. He sighs against my mouth, soft and a little tired, and I let him pull back when he's ready.

"I need a shower," he murmurs. "I've been on my feet since six this morning."

"Go on."

We move back into the living room together. Mack is still sprawled at the dining room table like he has no plans to ever stand up again, but his phone is in his hands now, his thumb scrolling through whatever messages he missed during the game. He looks up when we come in, that lazy smile of his settling into place.

Adrian squeezes my hand once before he heads down the hallway.

The bathroom door clicks shut a moment later, and then the sound of water running through the pipes.

"Bed," I say, and smack Mack's ass on the way past.

He snorts. "Yes, sir."

He pushes up from the chair, stretching one more time before he ambles down the hallway after Adrian, kissing the side of my neck on his way past.

I stand alone in the dining room for a long minute after he's gone.

The extra chairs still need to be put back in the garage, but that can wait til morning. There's a chip on the floor near Renata's chair that Adrian missed.

I can’t help thinking about Owen.

About the way his face lights up every time he mentions her. Lyra.

The slight rise in his voice. The way he gestures with his hands. The way he tells me what she said the way someone tells you a story they've been holding onto all day, saving it for when they get home to the person they want to share it with.

The whole pack has watched him talk about her at the kitchen table over breakfast, on the couch with his feet in my lap, in our bed in the dark, his voice quiet and a little embarrassed, like he wasn't sure if he should be saying any of it out loud at all.

And I never told him to stop because I love watching him light up like that. And because I trust him. If Owen wanted more, he’d tell us. I know that for a fact.

But standing here now, in the empty dining room, after Renata’s little rant, I can’t help but think about a lot of shit I’ve been ignoring.

Is this girl dangerous?

If she found out we were in a pack would she destroy Owen’s career?

I hope, whatever this is between Owen and this girl, he keeps his distance.

Midnight

Lyra

"Ican’t believe you cataloged these by hand."