Page 54 of The Rust in Her Hair

"I’m enjoying the show," I say as I follow my mate into the house.

Adrian is at the sink with his sleeves shoved up, slowly rinsing the plates before loading them in the dishwasher.

Mack cuts straight for the alpha and lands a flat smack across Adrian's ass on his way to the fridge.

"Quiet." Adrian laughs softly, glancing over his shoulder toward the living room. "Owen's asleep on the couch."

I glance through the doorway. Our beta is stretched out under the throw blanket, glasses folded on the coffee table, one arm hung off the cushion. He’s out cold. Through our bond, he reads as calm for the first time all night.

Thank god.

"I'll finish up in here." Adrian sets a plate in the top rack of the dishwasher. "Then I'll move Lyra into my room so you can get Owen in bed."

"No," I say, immediately remembering the look on his face when he admitted how much he wanted her. I can’t encourage that. "I'll move her."

Adrian's hands go still in the water while Mack frowns near the fridge. The blond alpha narrows his eyes at Adrian, not understanding his reaction.

"It's no big deal," Adrian says, not looking at me. "I can move her." His voice is light, but his big body is so tense I can see it from across the room.

"I know you can." I keep my voice easy but firm. "But I'll handle it."

Adrian finally glances at me, and I catch the look of pure disappointment on his face. A small part of me feels bad, but I don’t get it.

I scented the omega this morning, but all I got was sharp, bitter fear. It rolled off her in sour waves.

"I can move her." Mack tips his half-empty Gatorade at me from the open fridge, the light washing him blue. "I don’t mind."

"No."

"Come on, I'm gentle. Ask anybody."

"I'm not risking you fucking her while she's passed out, especially not with your dick still hard enough to cut glass." My gaze drops pointedly to the front of his shorts, where the thick outline of his cock is very visible.

Mack presses a hand flat to his chest, wounded. "Now that is uncalled for." He points the bottle at me. "That's your kink, big man. Not mine. Don't go putting your business on me."

"I have written permission from Owen for that," I say. "Which is more than you can claim about anything you get up to in this house."

He nudges the fridge shut with his elbow, laughing. "Fair point."

Adrian turns off the faucet, then shuts the dishwasher, turning it on. Water drips off his forearms, jaw set, as he slowly turns around and leans against the counter.

The alpha looks miserable.

"What's up with you?" Mack asks Adrian. "You’ve got that silent, brooding thing happening."

"Nothing." Adrian lets out a heavy sigh. "It's nothing."

Mack sets his Gatorade down and crosses the kitchen. He plants himself right in front of Adrian. Close. Then he hooks a finger in the waistband of his shorts.

"You know what fixes brooding?" Mack drops his voice low and warm. "Me. Bent over that dresser you keep swearing you'll finish in the garage. Give you something to do with all that tension besides sulk at the sink."

Adrian rolls his eyes, but the corner of his mouth lifts, and unable to help it, he finally smiles.

"There he is," Mack says, pleased with himself.

"I can't stand you." Adrian says it soft, smiling at Mack like the man hung the moon.

"Keep it down, you two." I cut a look at both of them. "Lyra's out cold and I'd like her to stay that way. Nobody's christening any furniture tonight."