Page 4 of The Rust in Her Hair

"Whoa." Hands close around my shoulders, steadying me. "Hey—Lyra."

"Owen." I gasp the beta’s name, and the relief that moves through me is almost embarrassing in its intensity, but I don’t care right now. "I didn’t know you were here." What’s left of the panic I felt with Crispin mixes with my nerves, making my voice come out a little high-pitched.

Owen's holding his phone loosely in one hand, his bow tie slightly loosened, his reading glasses pushed up on his head the way they always are when he forgets they're there. His brown hair is a little longer on top than the last time I saw him, a few curls falling over his forehead in a way that makes me want to push it back for him.

He looks exactly like he does behind the reference desk at the library, except he’s in a tuxedo, which is very…nice.

Yes. Nice.

That’s a polite way to describe a casual friend who is married and very off-limits.

"Tuxedo," I say, gesturing at all of him, then I immediately have to fight the urge to wince. Very smooth.

"I was—" He glances at his phone, then tucks it into his jacket pocket. "Sorry, I stepped out to take a call." Something crosses his face as he looks at me more carefully. "You okay?"

"Completely," I say. "Totally fine. Great evening."

Owen's hazel eyes pull tight at the corners, a small line forming between his brows. He studies my face and frowns slightly, almost like he can feel the fear still buzzing under my skin.

"Are you sure?" he whispers.

His hands lift, just a little, like he's going to reach for me, but then he stops. They drop back to his sides. My eyes catch on the simple gold band on his left hand and stay there for a second too long.

Why are all the good ones taken?

"I'm good," I say, smiling even wider. "There was—" I wave a hand vaguely back toward the ballroom. "Just a handsy alpha. You know how it is."

Owen’s expression shifts. Something quieter and more alert moves through it as he glances past my shoulder down the hallway. He does a quick sweep before turning those intense eyes back on me.

"Anyone I should know about?" His voice drops into something deeper than usual. Threaded with something that sounds almost possessive, and my stomach does an embarrassing little flip in response.

It always surprises me how much his voice affects me. After all, Owen is a beta, not an alpha, and yet that low register hits somewhere inside me that alphas have never reached.

"No." The word comes out breathier than I meant it to. I clear my throat and try again. "It's handled. He got pulled away."

Owen looks at me for another second. Then he nods, accepting it, because he's a gentleman and not a pushy asshole.

"You sure you're okay?"

"I'm sure." I smile, and it's almost a real one. Being near him does something to my nervous system that I have tried very hard not to think about. It also doesn’t help that he smells like heaven.

His natural sage and sweet lemon scent is just too good.

"Is everything okay?" I motion to where he tucked away his phone. It’s a little invasive, but I can’t think of what else to say. "Please tell me it's a rare book emergency. I'd love to live vicariously."

"My husband," he says and his charming smile returns. "He was checking in."

Right.

His husband.

Owen is married, I remind myself.

And I’m only a friend who visits the library three times a week because I love books and absolutely not because I engineer reasons to stand near him while he talks too fast about pre-industrial pack census records.

"Cool. Okay. Good." I close my mouth before more words can come out.

Owen’s smile grows, and it does something unfortunate to my chest.