Page 121 of The Rust in Her Hair

Lyra

Iwake slowly, my cheek pressed to a pillow that smells like Nico, leather and amber. One of my legs is tangled in the heavy blanket I sleep buried under, and it takes me a second to realize Adrian is curled around my back. The alpha is big and solid, his bare chest warm against me and his breath blowing out slowly in my hair.

Reaching behind me, my hand lands on his big thigh. He's in his sweatpants and nothing else.

I don't remember crawling into my nest last night.

He must have carried me.

The last memory I have is sitting on the couch after dinner. Nico pulled me into his lap while the guys talked and watched football on the TV. I vaguely remember the low rumble of their voices talking over my head. Something about field goals, moving trucks, and what we can fit in the back of the company pickup. I must have passed out in the middle of it.

A soft thud comes through the wall, and my whole body goes tight.

No one is here to snatch you, I silently tell myself, but it doesn’t help.

I can still imagine my father moving through the house, going room to room. Opening all the doors and cupboards. I bite down on the inside of my cheek and just listen.

Two seconds later, Owen's voice catches my ears, and the fear drains out of me all at once.

I let out a breath, feeling silly.

"That man would never come here," I whisper to myself. "He’d send some lackey, and never once leave his study."

Adrian makes a low sound, and his arm tightens around me. I go quiet, not wanting to wake the alpha. Once he settles again, I turn in his hold and press my lips to the rough stubble along his jaw. He smells like pine and cut grass and sleep. So good.

Then I ease out from under his arm and tuck my pillow against his chest, folding his hands around it so he has something to hold. He pulls it in without waking.

I stand and pull down the hem of the t-shirt I slept in. It’s one of Adrian’s, falling all the way down to my knees. He must have changed my clothes before bed.

The bed catches my eye when I step into the actual bedroom. There are blankets shoved to the foot of it, and one pillow on the floor. Somebody slept there. When I lean close, the sheets smell like Mack.

I like that he slept here.

The rest of the house is full of morning light, especially the kitchen.

It comes through the window over the sink and lays gold across the yellow counters and the little pots of herbs on the sill. The room smells like coffee and frying eggs. And there, at the counter, is Mack with his arms wrapped around Owen from behind.

Mack has the beta pushed against the edge of the counter, his bare chest to Owen's spine and his face buried in the side of Owen's neck. The alpha kisses a slow line up toward his ear while Owen tries like hell to pour two cups of coffee.

"You're going to make me spill," Owen says. But he tips his head, giving Mack more room.

"Then spill," Mack growls softly as he drags his mouth up to Owen's ear. "I'll lap it up."

I lean against the doorway and let myself admire them.

Growing up, affection wasn’t something my parents ever showed. Not to me or each other.

Mack lifts his head, and his green eyes find me over Owen's shoulder.

"Well. Look who finally crawled out of her nest." He doesn't let go of Owen. He lifts one heavy arm and holds it open, waiting.

I cross the kitchen and let him fold me in against the both of them. Owen turns and presses a kiss into my hair, and for a moment the three of us stand there in the gold light.

The front door opens, and I hear Nico’s familiar feet.

The pack alpha’s scent comes in ahead of him, dark amber and leather, and threaded through it is something very familiar.

"I brought company," Nico says as he steps into the kitchen.