Page 29 of The Rust in Her Hair

Crispin looks so enraged, like he’s looking for any excuse to hit me back. And the silence that follows is worse than anything he's said all night.

All I can hear is the distant clinking of silverware from the dining room, followed by muffled voices. A reminder that life is completely normal for everyone but me.

My heart slams against my ribs so hard it hurts, and every instinct I have screams at me to look away, to apologize, and take it back. But I don't move.

I can't.

I stay frozen under his stare, waiting to find out how angry the alpha really is.

Then, the corner of his mouth lifts, thin and forced.

"Careful, omega." He shakes his head slowly, the way you'd correct a child. "I know the games omegas like to play before the bonding. A little temper. A little bite." His hand slides back to my thigh, but this time his fingers sink in slow, pressing until it stops feeling like a touch and starts feeling like a warning. "It's cute for a night. I'll even admit I like some fight in my bed."

His voice doesn’t rise.

If anything, it drops lower, softer, more reasonable than it has any right to be.

"I am not the kind of alpha who enjoys disrespect," he says. "Not out here and not in bed. Not from anyone, and especially not from the woman who's about to bear my name." His thumb digs harder into the muscle of my leg. "So let's be very clear, since you seem confused. No games, Lyra. You will treat me with nothing but love and respect."

Fear and panic rise in my throat, but rage rises with it.

I want to tell him exactly what I think.

I know exactly what kind of man is sitting inches from my face, and I know that telling him no might be the thing that finally breaks whatever leash has kept him gentle so far.

Let it break.

Let him fly into a rage, and leave marks on my body.

Let my father see them tomorrow across the breakfast table and understand exactly what his perfect arrangement bought him.

"This isn't a game," I say, trying to steady my hands. "I'm not being difficult, Crispin. I’m telling you the truth." I lift my chin, holding his stare. "I will not marry you."

The muscle along his jaw ticks once, twice. Color climbs up his throat and into his face, replacing every trace of his forced patience.

"You won’t marry me?" He repeats my words with a flat tone. For one terrifying moment, his face is frozen in an unreadable expression, then a short, ugly laugh breaks out of him. But it cuts off just as quickly as it came. "That's adorable."

He leans in, his eyes flashing with rage.

"You signed that contract of your own free will, Lyra." His fingers dig into my leg so hard I whimper. It feels like he might tear my muscle through my skin. "There is no version of tonight, or any night after it, where you don't belong to me." His voice drops, slipping into a dangerous growl. "So I suggest you fix this little attitude of yours, and fast."

"No," I whisper, determined to get through this. "I won’t⁠—"

"Shut up!" His other hand shoots into my hair, fisting hard enough to wrench a cry out of my throat. He hauls me forward until my face is inches from his, his breath a hot wall of whiskey. "You are mine to do with as I please. Do you understand me?" His teeth flash as he leans in. "Mine!"

He moves fast, faster than a man his size should. One knee drops onto the cushion beside my hip as he crawls over me, caging me against the arm of the couch until there's nowhere left to go.

"Crispin, please⁠—"

His hand shoots up and clamps around my jaw. He grips hard, his fingers digging into my cheeks, crushing the soft inside of my mouth against my teeth until I taste copper.

I whimper, but he only squeezes tighter, tilting my face up to his.

"You are going to learn that tonight if I have to teach you myself."

Then with one powerful movement, he shifts forward, forcing me onto my back, his weight crushing me into the velvet cushions. The air rushes from my lungs in a pained gasp as his body covers mine, thick and heavy and impossibly strong.

The scent of whiskey and clove floods my senses, suffocating, overwhelming.