Page 99 of The Rust in Her Hair

"I'm not in the mood for this right now, Mack." There's no heat in it, just bone-tired. "I mean it. Whatever the joke is," he motions to me, "I can't do it this morning. I really can't."

I push up off my knees and get to my feet in front of him.

"Alright." I brace myself, ready to test the gentle giant. "Humor me a second." I wait for him to nod.

"Fine." He lets out a heavy sigh.

"Picture me walking right up to sweet, old Miss Ellie in one of her little tracksuits, and I punch her square in the face. I mean, beatin' her down right there on the sidewalk. Even kicking that sad old beagle of hers for good measure."

Adrian stares at me, his mouth falling open. "What the fuck, man?"

"Picture it. Me and Miss Ellie. How's that sit?"

"You are seriously deranged." He cuts me a look.

"I’m good with that. Now picture this." I hold his eyes. "Picture me walking back in that house." I hitch a thumb at the kitchen door. "Down the hall. Into the bedroom where Lyra's sound asleep." I keep my voice easy, and Adrian’s eyes narrow. "What if I draw back my hand, and I slap her across the face as hard as I⁠—"

His hand is around my throat before I can finish, his eyes going dark. His teeth are bared an inch from my face, a growl ripping up out of his chest so vicious it rattles the tools on the wall.

For half a second, my heart kicks hard as heat pours down through me, thick and fast. It pools low in my gut as my cock goes stiff behind my zipper.

Well. That's a hell of a thing to learn about myself.

I should be worried. Adrian's got a look that promises violence and there's a growl in his chest that means business. But every drop of blood in me has decided this is the best thing I've seen all week, and there's no talking it back down.

And all I can do is laugh.

Rough and low, right into that sexy, snarling face.

Adrian blinks. The black drains out of his eyes and horror floods in behind it. He quickly snatches his hands back like my throat burned him.

"God—Mack—" He scrambles backward. "I'm sorry, I don't—I keep—I have no control over myself, I can't⁠—"

"Adrian." I rub my throat, still grinning. "That's the whole point, you beautiful idiot. You just about tore my head off my shoulders for pretending to threaten her. You really think you’d be able to hurt her yourself?"

He stares at me, chest heaving.

I clap him on the shoulder, leaning in.

"But if you still feel a bit wild, I could use a rough alpha right about now." I drop my gaze down his body. "Nico mated our girl last night, while I slept on the porch. My dick's so hard you could hang a hat on it."

Adrian's whole face slackens. "Wait." He grabs my arm. "Wait, back up. Nico did what?" The wildness, the shame, the fear, all of it falls right off him, wiped clean by plain disbelief.

"You heard me." I grin and haul him toward the kitchen door. "So you best make peace with that fear quick, alpha. Cuz that little omega's ours now, and she ain't going anywhere."

Dreaming

Lyra

Adrian's tongue drags slowly over my clit, teasing me, and my hips lift off the blankets, trying to chase it.

"Such a responsive little thing." He chuckles, caressing my skin.

His hands are the gentlest things I've ever felt, spread wide and warm over the tops of my thighs, holding me open without any force behind it.

He hums against me as he licks again, and the sound rolls all the way up through my belly. Pine and crisp winter air fill my lungs with every breath I take.

I've got both hands fisted in his hair, steering him, grinding up into his mouth. And God, it's good. It’s like some part of me that has been waiting my whole life just clicked into place. My body knows this alpha. It wants him with a pull that consumes every inch of me.