Page 167 of The Rust in Her Hair

Then Nico and Adrian come through the bedroom door and pull up short. Their eyes go to me first, up on my knees in the middle of my new nest, and then down, to the slick soaking dark through my underwear and streaking the insides of my thighs.

"Lyra," Nico growls as one hand grips the hem of his shirt. He drags it off over his head and drops it on the floor. His eyes flash as he drinks me in, his whole body pulling in my direction.

But the second he takes a single step, I growl high in my throat. "Don’t touch me!" I snarl, hating how crazed I feel.

Nico freezes in his tracks.

The pack alpha's jaw works, but he lifts a hand and eases his weight back, giving me space. His desire to touch me is all over his face, but he manages to hold himself still. "It’s okay," he whispers softly. "We’re here. Let us tend to you."

I shake my head, balling up fists full of my once perfect nest.

"What’s wrong, omega?" Adrian says from the doorway, one hand grips the frame, clearly struggling to hold himself back.

But I can’t get myself to explain how scared I am. That I need Mack here too. That I ruined my nest while panicking about Mack. That I’m spiraling and suffocating and burning alive all at once, and I’ll continue to be tortured until I know for a fact that my whole pack is safe and sound.

"It’s my fault," Owen whispers from the wall. He sounds wrecked. "Her nest. I panicked and I pulled her out, and it came apart in my hands. It was an accident. I swear to God, I didn’t⁠—”

Adrian crosses to him, wraps an arm around his bare shoulders, and pulls him in against his side. He doesn't look at Owen while he does it. His eyes stay on me the entire time, big and blown out, his cock already tenting the front of his pants.

I open my mouth, trying to tell my beta that none of this is his fault, but all that comes out is a high-pitched whine.

Then the next cramp hits, and it's worse than any of the ones before it. It’s so hard and so deep that my stomach rolls over with it. Bile climbs the back of my throat, and everything blurs and slides sideways.

I fold forward and press my face down into the pile of blankets and drag air in through my open mouth. For a second, I'm sure I'm going to be sick right here in the middle of my nest, but it rolls through me in a long, grinding wave. I ride it face-down, gasping, my fingers knotted in the sheets.

"Lyra," Nico’s deep voice moves closer, but I don’t look up.

I'm too hot. I'm so hot I can't stand another second of it.

The flannel is soaked in sweat, and I can't breathe around it. Soft-worn cotton I've slept in a dozen times, is suddenly too rough. It drags rough as burlap over my skin, every seam and every button scraping my nerves raw.

My fingers fly to the buttons, and I fumble them open one after another, clumsy and shaking, tearing down the front of Adrian's shirt until it falls open and the cool air of the room hits my bare chest.

It's the first mercy I've felt since this started. I gulp it in, but the relief lasts all of five seconds.

More slick gushes as my body opens.

My cunt is a raw, gaping hole, wet and empty, a desperate, aching void that needs to be filled. But I need all of them. Every last one of my mates. I need them to pin me down and fuck me until I'm nothing but a writhing, sobbing mess, until I'm so full of their cum it's leaking out of me.

"Mack," I snarl, desperately needing to see him.

Please don’t be dead.

Please!

"Goddamnit!" Adrian yells from somewhere else in the house. I blink, shocked to see him gone. "Get your ass in here now!"

Then the front door bangs twice.

Heavy footsteps race through the house, and then they’re here. Adrian and Mack fill the bedroom doorway, and every bit of the air goes out of me at once.

Mack is stripped down to his underwear. His hair is soaked through and dripping, water running in dark lines down his chest and his stomach and the thick muscle of his arms. He looks like he just hosed off in the front yard.

"Lyra." He's breathing hard. His green eyes find me in the center of his bed and lock on.

Still terrified, I scan him head to foot.

I go over every inch of that big body, frantic, hunting for any damage, or blood. Any kind of wound. And there's nothing.