Page 25 of The Rust in Her Hair

It just sits inside me, enormous and silent, like a scream with no sound attached to it.

"I've been thinking about where we'll live," Crispin says, his voice easy and conversational, like this has already been decided. "I have a place on the coast. You'll love it."

"Patience, my friend." My father rises from his chair. "Well, you two will be bonded before you know it." He turns and walks toward his desk on the other side of the room. "This union is the product of years of careful work." He picks up a thick stack of papers, before turning to face the room. "I always knew that an omega daughter, handled correctly, could open doors that even the most powerful alpha couldn't." Father’s eyes move to me with something that might almost be pride if it weren't so cold. "Crispin's reach combined with the Van Houten name will make us untouchable."

Crispin laughs, loud and satisfied, and his hand finds my leg again. His fingers travel higher this time, brushing the hem of my skirt.

"I'd say I'm getting the better end of this deal," he says, his eyes moving across my face with a slow, possessive sweep. "You built something beautiful, Aldric." His thumb moves against my inner thigh. "I intend to take very good care of her."

Horrified, I stare straight ahead and breathe through my nose, forcing myself to think about absolutely nothing.

Blank.

No fear.

No rage.

I am filled with nothing.

"No matter what, you can’t return her," my father says, the corner of his mouth lifting. "She's been more trouble than she looks."

"Nothing I can't handle," Crispin laughs again, and I feel his eyes on the side of my face before his hand squeezes my thigh. His fingers press into my skin, and my flesh crawls straight up to my hairline.

"I'll admit that when the universe saw fit to give my family an omega daughter," my father continues, "I struggled to understand it." He glances up at me, not unkind exactly, just kind of distant. Like I’m a bothersome dog, rather than an actual person.

Tell him to fuck off, I try to command myself, but nothing comes out. I can’t even glare.

"Now, I can see the advantages of having an omega." Father holds the papers up with one hand, and gestures with the other. "Come. Both of you."

Crispin is on his feet instantly, and I finally let myself look at him.

He's massive in this room the way he's massive everywhere, thick through the chest and shoulders, his black dress shirt straining slightly across his back as he moves. He strolls toward my father slowly, like he has all the time in the world.

My eyes cut to the door.

Run, I beg my body. Just run. Stand up and⁠—

My mother's hand closes around my wrist, pulling me forward and off the couch. She steers me toward my father's big wooden desk, her grip light but absolute, and the door gets farther away with every step.

She positions me between them without a word, my father on my left and Crispin moving to fill the space on my right, and the air shrinks. I can feel the heat coming off all three of them—my father's cedar aroma, Crispin's dark clove underneath it, and my mother’s constant disappointment.

The combination turns my stomach.

"It’s okay." Crispin leans down, his mouth brushing my ear. "Don't be nervous," he murmurs. "This is a happy day."

My throat closes around every word I'm not allowed to say as I look down at the papers.

It's a contract.

Dense and formal, page after page of legal language, and at the top of the first page, in clean black print:

Mating and Marriage Agreement

My father reaches into his breast pocket and produces a pen. He holds it out to me and my hand reaches for the pen.

Stop it! I scream inside my head, but it’s useless. My body doesn’t belong to me. It never really has.

"Last page," my mother says from somewhere behind me. Her voice is perfectly even. "Here." She leans forward and turns to the final page herself, her finger landing on the signature line.