Page 16 of The Rust in Her Hair

I close the door behind me, but I can still hear Mack and Adrian fucking. "It's a long story."

"I've got time." He sits and pats the mattress beside him. "Come here."

I cross the room and sit on the edge of the bed, next to him. Nico's hand finds the back of my neck, his thumb pressing into the tension there like he already knows exactly where it lives.

"Owen." His voice drops further. "Talk to me."

"Something weird happened," I say.

Nico leans in, his hand sliding up into my hair, his fingers pressing into my scalp with a slow, firm drag that makes my eyes want to close. I let myself relax for a moment, into the solid warmth of my mate. Then I blow out a heavy sigh and set my glasses on the nightstand.

"I'm worried about my friend," I say. "Lyra."

Nico's hand keeps moving in my hair. "Is she okay?"

"I'm not sure." I stare at the wall across from me.

The walls in this room are a deep, muted olive that Nico picked out two years ago. The rest of us made fun of it until we saw it with the dark wood floors and then we shut up completely. My man’s got taste.

"There was an alpha there tonight." I keep my eyes on the baseboards. "Crispin Maleth. He’s a real asshole. Owns some massive media conglomerate." I press my lips together. "Tonight he got physical with Lyra. Cornered her in a side gallery and put his hands on her. Left marks on her arm."

Nico goes still beside me, letting me talk.

"I was right there." My jaw tightens. "I talked him down, eventually. But I couldn't actually do anything, Nico. He's twice my size and I'm a beta and if I'd thrown a punch I would have made everything so much worse for her." I drag a hand over my mouth. "I keep thinking about the sound she made when he grabbed her. It was this small, terrified whimper."

The room is quiet except for the distant hum of the pipes and the muffled sound of Mack's voice through the wall.

"I stood there and talked," I say. "Like a goddamn librarian."

"It sounds like you handled it pretty well." Nico's hand slides back into my hair. "I mean, you kept your head." His voice is low, unhurried. "That's not nothing, Owen."

"It didn’t feel like enough."

Nico is quiet for a second, looking at me. "Did she get home okay?"

I let out a slow breath as I nod. "Yeah. I didn’t leave until I saw her get in a car with her parents."

Nico makes a sound in his throat, not quite a word. "That sounds like a rough night for both of you," he says carefully.

"It was just weird," I say honestly.

I reach up and yank my bow tie loose, pulling it free from my collar in one long drag. Then I shrug out of my jacket and toss it toward the chair in the corner. It falls short, hitting the dark floor in a heap, and I leave it there.

"Owen." Nico's voice is even, his dark eyes steady on mine. "Do you have a thing for this girl?"

"No." The word comes out fast.

"Because with her being a Van Houten…" Nico trails off, his mouth pulling to one side. He almost looks apologetic. "It’s not smart."

"We're friends," I say firmly. "That's all. I'm only worried about her."

Nico holds my gaze for a long second, clearly deciding whether to push. "Okay," he finally says, his hand sliding back down to my neck.

Okay.

I look down at the sheet bunched at his hip and tell myself the same thing.

Friends. That's all it is.