Page 2 of The Rust in Her Hair

"Me too." Crispin makes a low sound that isn't quite a laugh, his thumb moving against my spine.

I look down at the ice in my glass. It’s almost completely melted.

"Your father tells me you've been spending a great deal of time at the university library." The hand at my back shifts, fingers spreading wider. "That's a lot of time alone for a young omega." He takes a slow sip of his whiskey while I stare at the black buttons of his very expensive dress shirt.

"I enjoy reading," I say, my voice a little more clipped than I meant. My hair has been in this high bun since noon, and the ache along my scalp has moved behind my eyes.

"I know you do." Crispin leans down, bringing his face inches from mine. "We'll have to build you a library of your own someday." His mouth curves into a slow smile and something cold moves up my spine.

What the hell does that mean?

"Yeah." I let out a nervous laugh. "I…uh…"

I glance over at my father.

He’s still watching from across the room. Still smiling. My mother is standing at his side with her champagne in one hand, and her perfect posture. Her dark eyes find me for exactly one second before she takes a sip of her champagne and looks away.

Of course she does.

"Please excuse me," I say, pulling back slightly. "I need to freshen up."

But Crispin's grip tightens.

His hand presses into the small of my back, driving me forward until my palm hits his chest. I push, trying to force him back, but the asshole doesn't move an inch.

He’s so strong…and so close.

The scent of cloves thickens, making my stomach turn.

"You have the most stunning eyes," he says, his words slurring slightly as he looks down at me. "I don't think I've ever seen such pretty brown eyes before."

I glance away from him, biting my bottom lip, forcing my breath to stay even while my heart slams against my ribs.

He's drunk, I tell myself. That's the only explanation for why he's being even more insufferable than usual.

"Thank you." I shift my weight, creating an inch of space between us. "I really do need to excuse myself."

But Crispin doesn't release me. He stares, giving me a look he clearly thinks omegas swoon over. It makes me want to peel my own skin off.

Around us, the party continues. Someone laughs too loudly near the bar. A waiter passes with a tray of champagne flutes. Nobody is looking at us.

"Look at me," Crispin commands, and my chin jerks up.

My eyes lock onto his and I go completely still, not from submission but from pure, cold shock.

He used his alpha voice on me.

He has no right to do that. No unmated alpha has the right to command an omega who isn't his, and he did it anyway. Right here. In the middle of a crowded room, with my parents nearby.

Something hot and ugly turns over in my chest, but I keep it down, trying like hell not to draw attention.

Father would be furious.

"Let me go." I push my forearms against his chest, trying not to spill my drink, but the alpha stays planted. It’s like he’s made of stone.

"You are so pretty, Lyra." Crispin leans down, his mouth close enough that I feel the warmth of his breath against my cheek. His voice drops to something low and throaty that vibrates through my entire body. "I do wish you had worn your hair down, though. There’s something about long hair on a woman that drives me wild."

I drop my gaze to his shoulder and start counting the threads of his expensive suit jacket.