Page 43 of The Rust in Her Hair

My hands stay fisted in the cushions.

Nico is suddenly closer, lowering himself onto the loveseat across from me, slowly, leaving all that room between us, and even from there his scent finds me. Leather and dark amber and warm earth.

My body strains toward the aroma, and I absolutely hate it.

Horrified, I press my nails deeper into my palms.

"I have to ask you something." Nico’s gaze drops to my neck, and he frowns. It takes me a full second to remember the hickey Crispin put there.

I reach up and cover both sides of my neck, waiting for him to spit it out already.

"What are you running from, omega?" he finally asks.

The question drops straight through me and drags me back. My father's office. The velvet couch under my spine. Crispin's weight bearing down. Clove and musk filling my mouth until I couldn't breathe around it.

Tears sting the back of my eyes.

"I'm not asking what happened to you." The alpha’s voice drops even lower, whispering now. "I only need to know if I should expect an angry alpha at my door, looking for his mate."

"I'm n-not mated." My words crack in the middle. I drag the sleeve of the flannel under my nose next, not caring how unladylike it is. "Nobody's looking for me here. I don't even have a phone for anyone to track." My breath saws in and out. "I'll be gone in a day or two. I promise."

"You can stay as long as you want." Owen sets his hand on my knee, light, warm through the flannel draped over them.

But I can't take his kindness right now.

Not on top of everything that’s swirling in my head.

It's too much.

I’m so scared, and confused, and angry. And Nico is too close, and his scent keeps reaching into me and lighting me up from the inside out.

Even the way Adrian is looking at me is too much.

He stands across the room with his back against the wall, arms crossed over a white shirt that clings to every perfect line of him. His pine scent drifts to me from all the way over there and curls low in my belly.

I have to get out of this room before I come apart on their couch.

"Would it be okay if I washed up?" The words jump out of my mouth. "Please. I need a minute."

"Of course." Nico's brow pulls tight with worry.

"I'll show you." Owen is already on his feet. "I've got some clothes you can borrow."

I push up off the couch too fast, and the room tips. Nico rises at the same moment, reaching out to steady me. His scent hits me full in the face, and for one horrible second my body sways toward him, praying he’ll touch me more.

"It’s okay." Owen's hand closes around mine, steadying me. Then he moves.

He leads me down the hall into a small bathroom with pale yellow tile. He leans over the tub and tells me something about the hot water and how far to crank the knob, but the words dissolve before they reach me.

All I hear is my own blood.

Slick slides slowly over the seam of my sex, and I clamp my thighs together as I watch Owen work.

His hands move over the fixtures, sure and easy, and I can't stop staring at the veins standing up along the backs of them. Big hands. I want them on me. I want them dragging up under the flannel and spread wide over my bare skin, and the desire comes on so sudden and so total that my breath goes shallow.

Owen turns and points to a stack of towels under the sink, saying something I don't catch. His hair falls shaggily over his forehead when he leans down, and my fingers twitch inside the sleeves.

I want to reach up and drag both hands through it.