Page 26 of Primal (The Prey Drive #1)

Chapter 25

Noa

I stuck my head into the den to check on Siggy, half expecting the room to be blanketed in sorrow. Instead, I found three women huddled close together, flipping through photos of Siggy and Carly on their phones. On the coffee table sat a tray with mugs of hot chocolate and a bowl of sliced apples, one of which Siggy was munching on while recounting a story about Carly. The tray of sustenance had Rhosyn written all over it even if I hadn’t seen the beta female since we arrived. She and Canaan had taken off to regroup at their own cabin, after being away for an extended period of time unexpectedly.

The laughter shared between the three women was watery, but real. They're grieving, yeah, but they're doing it together. And in that shared heartbreak, there's healing too.

Siggy might not be ready to move back permanently. As of now, I don’t know if she will ever want to live here full-time again, but coming home was the right call for the young omega’s soul. She needed her mother’s arms and love wrapped around her to help her mend some of those broken pieces, and she needed to talk to Carly’s mom so she could find the strength to forgive herself.

Lingering by the doorway, I asked her if she’d be okay with me stepping out for twenty minutes, that there was someone I needed to talk to. She looked uneasy at the thought of me leaving, but Yrsa jumped in before she could spiral. Promised they wouldn’t leave the den. That’s the only reason I felt comfortable enough to go.

Now, parked in front of the healer’s cabin, the one I was raised in, my palms sweat against the steering wheel. The moss is still thick on the shingled roof. The log exterior hasn’t changed much, though the front door’s been painted some sunny, blinding shade of yellow. Weird choice, but whatever. I don’t live here anymore.

Steadying myself, I climb out of my Jeep and walk up.

Before I can knock, the door swings open like it’s been waiting for me to arrive all day.

“I was wondering when you’d show up, dear girl,” Zora says, her wild patterned flowy pants clashing with an oversized red sweater that looks like it used to belong to someone twice her size. Her outfit choice I’m starting to learn is typical Zora, even if she looks like she went thrifting blindfolded and bought the first items her hand landed on.

She gives me a once-over that feels like more than just a glance. Like Seren, she’s a healer, so Goddess knows what her gifts are allowing her to sense. Her thin, dark brows knit together. “Would you rather sit out here on the porch?”

She gestures to two old chairs flanking a chipped mosaic-topped table with an ashtray perched on it. I nod without really thinking. Yeah. I’m not ready to face the inside yet. Too many ghosts. Too many memories waiting to ambush me. And if the front door is any indication, too many changes.

Mom’s rolling in her urn at that paint color.

We shuffle across the worn decking to plop down into the chairs. I hadn’t really taken into consideration the shitty weather when I agreed to this location, and as the wind picks up around us, I instinctually pull the green sweatshirt over my shoulders tighter around me, snuggling down into the thick fabric.

Yeah, so I forgot to give it back. Sue me.

Looking up, I find Zora’s black eyes on me. “Lovely, sweatshirt, Noa, Where’d you get it?” She takes a deep, drawn-out breath. “Smells an awful lot like our Alpha.”

“He’s not my Alpha,” I reply, like a reflex, before frowning deeply at her. “Shut up.”

The charmer cackles before holding her hands up in surrender. “All right, fine. Still on the denial train, I see.”

“It’s not denial—not anymore, anyway.” I turn my head and watch the trees sway in the crisp wind across the way. The big tree her beat-up station wagon is parked under used to have wind chimes decorating the lower branches. They’d drive me up the damn wall on slow mornings when I was trying to sleep in, but Mom loved them. Said the noise cleared the energy around the house. Whether that was true or not, I couldn’t tell you, but arguing with her about it was a lost cause. “Didn’t you hear? Your Alpha rejected me.”

The last time I was with the charmer, she was trying to convince me that, even if I couldn’t access my own wolf like I should, that the pull I felt toward Rennick was a fated mate bond. I was so caught off guard, unsure, of what she was saying, it was easier to just flat-out deny everything. Claim it was a trick of the mind. She saw through me the last time and she sees through me now because we both now know without a shadow of a doubt that Rennick is mine— was mine.

That became painfully clear to me as my thread connecting me to him was ripped away.

“Oh, don’t you worry,” Zora says, her tone dry. “That little redheaded demon child made sure the news of your rejection was spread far and wide.”

Despite the various emotions rolling beneath my skin, all I can offer is an eye roll. I’m just…tired. My tense interaction with Rennick took all the energy I had to spare, and I don’t really have any to spare right now.

“Why am I not surprised?”

Zora smirks from her perch across the little table, but her dark eyes are pinned on me like she’s reading more than what’s physically there. Which is probably exactly what she’s doing. Empathic charmers are like that. Can sense lies, emotion, probably the super chill and not at all unhinged flare of jealousy in my ribs when Talis’s name is mentioned.

“Because you’re smart and a good judge of character.” She smirks like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You proved it by choosing to come see me.”

I try to laugh, really I do, but it comes out like a broken puff of air. More pain than humor. Will I ever laugh again? Goddess, I hope so. Though, at the rate I’m disintegrating, I don’t want to get my hopes up.

“I didn’t come here to prove anything,” I tell her, pulling Rennick’s hoodie tighter around me before I can think better of it. “I came because I have questions. And I thought…maybe you knew more about my mom than you let on.”

Zora leans back in her seat, folding her hands in her lap like she’s settling in for a story. “What do you want to know, Noa?”

I hesitate, not because I don’t know the question—it's burned into the inside of my skull—but because saying it aloud might make it real. Might take that last shred of denial I’ve been white-knuckling and shred it to pieces.

Still, I ask.

“Do you think it’s possible my mother bound my wolf?”

The second the words leave my mouth, I brace myself like I’m anticipating a physical blow.

But Zora doesn’t blink. Doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t look remotely surprised. No, if anything, she looks as if she was expecting it.

“True latent wolves don’t display any traits of any particular designation,” she says calmly, like she’s reading it from a textbook. “Their wolves are too dormant for that. When I first met you, I knew with one look that you were an omega, even if you didn’t smell like one. And now…” She takes in a deep breath as her gaze drifts down to where I’ve curled up in the chair. “That typical omega sweetness is wafting off you, and I’m sitting here watching you practically burrow in a sweatshirt—one that does not belong to you—like you’d make a nest right there in that dinky chair if I let you.”

Heat crawls up my neck. I didn’t realize how slumped into myself I’ve become or how much I’ve snuggled up in his hoodie. I sit up a little straighter, trying to preserve what little dignity I’ve got left.

Zora watches me like she’s cataloging every microexpression. “Have you been showing any other omega traits lately?”

My brain glitches for a second. This whole week’s been a blur of agony, and, if I’m being honest, I don’t think I remember what day it even is. How am I supposed to remember if I’ve done anything that’s textbook omega?

I could call Seren. I have no doubt that girl’s been keeping a list in her Notes app.

“Like you said, I smell more… omega now,” I mutter, trying to discreetly test my scent but end up getting a face full of his hoodie instead. Great. “And I’ve…whined. A couple times. I think.” Week’s been a blur, remember?

Zora hums, smug, nodding like she’s connecting puzzle pieces I didn’t know were on the board.

“And voices?” she asks, throwing me for an absolute loop.

“Voices?”

“Yes, have you heard anyone else’s voice in your head after you heard the Alpha’s that day?”

I stiffen. She knows. Of course she knows. I told her, didn’t I, about what I heard? The chatter in my mind that accidently led me to claim Rennick as my mine.

Mate. Mate. Mate. Mate. Mate.

“Yeah,” I admit, cheeks warm at the memory of waking up in that state with Zora, Rhosyn, and the handy puke bowl waiting for me. “Only a couple times, but it’s only happened during …”

I trail off, trying to figure out the best way to explain what was happening at those times without giving too much away about Siggy’s own pain.

“Emotionally charged moments?” Zora’s smile is irritatingly knowing.

I narrow my eyes at her, then reluctantly nod. “Yes.”

“That’s how most oracles start out,” she says, like it’s no big deal.

I blink. “ Oracle? ”

“Mmhm. Most hear things before they see them. Gets a lot of young charmer pups in trouble, overhearing things they shouldn’t, seeing things no one is meant to.”

I try to process that while my mind spirals. Oracle . Me. That…explains some things, but not nearly enough.

But Zora’s already shifting gears. “Latent wolves aren’t omegas, Noa. And they sure as hell aren’t charmers. It’s our wolf’s essence—lifeblood—that gives life to those things. A latent’s wolf is too disconnected to bring to life those special traits. So, yes, to answer your earlier question…I believe your wolf was bound. Caged. And there’s only one person we know powerful enough to not only weave the bindings but also leave a loophole so they’ll unknot themselves when the time is right.”

“ Mom ,” I whisper.

The confirmation lands like a brick. It doesn’t shatter me, because deep down, I’ve known, but it settles in my bones like a new kind of ache. One of betrayal.

Unknot …with how things are changing, that word seems more than accurate. It also makes me think of my mom’s warning from my dream again.

“It sounds like the more your wolf shakes free of the binds, the more your designation will reveal itself and your charmer gifts will strengthen. Who knows what you’ll be capable of when you have the full strength of your wolf behind you, dear girl?”

I don’t speak for a long beat. Then I ask the other question. One I’ve been wondering about since the first image of a younger Rennick resurfaced in my mind.

“I think my memories were manipulated. There are…chunks missing. I didn’t remember how much time I spent with Rennick growing up until I came back here. And now…now the memories are trickling in. Slowly. Like a door cracked open.”

Zora’s face darkens. “Mind weaving was where Thalassa excelled. It’s why Merritt kept her close. A mind weaver is a precious tool to have in your back pocket when you’re an Alpha whose reign isn't exactly met with unanimous approval. In the charmer and witch communities, manipulating memories—bending minds—that kind of magic is heavily frowned upon. Dangerous, even. People with the gift tend to push the boundaries. And once you cross that line, it’s hard to come back.”

The senior Alpha Fallamhain’s mixed reception isn’t news to me. My memories of Merritt are firmly in place, and he was not a kind man. He didn’t have the warm, reassuring dominance that makes a good Alpha. Like Lowri. Shit, even like Rennick…when he’s not being an emotionally inept asswipe. But his father was cold, stern, and unforgiving.

What is news to me is hearing that my mother was a master mind manipulator, that this skill I had no idea she possessed was the reason for her long tenure with Merritt.

A cold chill runs down my aching spine as I start to silently panic and wonder what else she may have altered in my mind. What memories that occupy my mind are actually mine and not created by my mother’s magic? Rennick knew my wolf was bound, but I have memories of the night my mom came home to this very cabin in a panic—reeking of fear—to tell me we had to leave, that Merritt was exiling me for my latent status. But what if that’s not what happened at all?

My mother—my protector—my deceiver?

"Do you think she could’ve…left dreams behind?” I ask, my voice scratchy, barely making it past the tight band of anxiety around my throat. “Like, tucked them away in someone’s mind. For later.”

Zora doesn’t answer right away. Her gaze sharpens, studying me in that unsettling way of hers, like she’s peeling back skin and bone and looking at whatever truth lives underneath. Finally, she nods, slow and thoughtful.

“It’s possible,” she says, tone weighty. “Dreams are just another kind of memory, after all. And a skilled enough weaver could bury them deep, keep them dormant until something—or someone—unlocked the thread.”

My heart sinks because I already know who the key is. Mom told me herself in my dream.

Rennick.

“Have you been having odd dreams?” she questions, when my heavy silence drags on too long.

“Yeah,” I mumble, as my mind sorts through all the pieces to the puzzle I’ve been left, but it’s like I’m trying to see the big picture without having access to the vital corner pieces. The pieces that keep the whole damn thing together. There’s one thing I think I know for sure, though. “My bound wolf, my missing memories, my dream…they all tie back to Rennick. Do you think…do you think Mom knew we were destined for each other? That we were mates?”

Zora’s already nodding before I’m done talking. “I’d bet money on it,” she tells me, before adding, “I also don’t think she would do something like this unless she felt she didn’t have a choice.”

The growl that tears from my throat isn’t intentional. It’s raw and guttural—animalistic—slicing through the air, leaving the front porch in thick silence. Both of us freeze.

I don’t apologize. I’m too tired to pretend I’m not unraveling.

“Why,” I bite out, “do I keep having to be the sacrificial lamb every time someone important to me gets backed into a corner? Why am I always the one who pays the price for the decisions they’re forced to make?”

“We make rash choices when our backs are against a wall. We don’t think about the long-term cost—about what it’ll destroy. That regret comes later when the dust settles and we’re left standing in the ruin of our own making.” She pauses, that observant gaze of hers raking over me long and hard, as if searching for more visible signs of my hurt, before adding, “Did you know the only reason we identified Carly’s body was because of her scent? Her face was so mangled, we didn’t recognize her as… her . Rennick carried what was left of that girl six miles back to this cabin. Alone. Just him and the weight of his perceived failure in his arms. When you’re forced to look that kind of devastation in the eye for that long, Noa…you’ll pay any price to ensure it never happens again. Because in that moment, nothing— nothing —could have felt worse than that. Worse than what happened to Carly.”

Zora lets that settle, heavy and unmoving.

I feel like I’m going to be sick, the dark details of Carly’s recovery, the ones Rhosyn and Canaan had purposely left out, slithering around my mind.

I’m consumed, busy focusing on breathing through my nose to fight back the roiling in my empty stomach and the nausea clawing at my throat, when Zora speaks again.

“I can’t speak for why your mother did what she did, only what I’ve told you before. Your mother always had a plan. Her gift made her the shrewdest person in the room, and she used that to her advantage in everything she did,” Zora explains tenderly. “What I can tell you is why Rennick was driven into making the choice he made. Is it one I wholly agree with? No. Nor does it stop the pain you’re in because of it, but I can understand what drove him there. Now, we need to discover a way to fix the damage he made with his rash choice.”

“There is no fixing it,” I respond, feeling so much like I’m having a repeat of the same conversation I had with Rennick before. “He broke the bond.”

Her hand reaches out like she’s going to place her palm on my shoulder. I don’t know what comes over me, but I jerk away before she can make contact. And it’s not because I don’t want the physical reassurance from her, it’s because I don’t want her to touch it . His sweatshirt. Oh, Goddess, what the hell is wrong with me?

Zora’s lips purse as she eyes me, my dramatic move clearly not going unnoticed by the healer.

“He broke his side of the bond,” she shocks the hell out of me by saying, because hello? Has this hippy chick been paying attention, or did she smoke too much before I showed up here, because with a single glance at me and the state I’ve been left in, she’d know the bond is very much severed. “But yours? Unless I heard wrong, you didn’t reject him back. That means your side of the bond is still very much alive within the Alpha.”

My blood turns to ice.

“What are you saying?”

She stares at me like she’s shocked I don’t know. “Until you formally reject Rennick just as he did you, your side of the bond will remain tethered to him. The only problem with this is one half of the bond can’t survive without the other. It starts to rot away…” She trails off, but the unspoken implication is clear. “Rejected mate syndrome presents itself in a few ways, but as I’m sure you’ve discovered, this is the worst of it. As the surviving bond shrivels and dies a painfully lonesome death, it tries to take the owner with it. And sometimes it succeeds.”

Nearly suffocating under the severity of her words, I sway in my seat. “Did…did Rennick know about this when he?—”

I don’t think I’d be able to take it on top of everything else, to learn that he knew what would happen. The ground beneath my feet that has been tumbling away like quicksand would vanish completely and take me with it. Swallow me whole.

“Based on the wrecked state he’s been in for the past week, I find that highly doubtful.” Zora tries to sound hopeful, as if for the two of us, but it has little effect on my fragile grasp on sanity. “It’s ridiculous, but this pesky little loophole is something many aren’t aware of, and causes all kinds of problems. I swear, if people were more honest about what happens during a mate bond rejection, people would know how to avoid this kind of thing. But, alas, people turn all waspy and keep it to themselves, acting like it’s some scandalous affair for some fucking reason.”

She’s right, I had no clue that breaking the bond went both ways.

But Seren would have known.

Of all people, she would have known what would happen and she should have warned me, but for reasons I can’t begin to fathom, she stayed silent. She didn’t say a word while she watched me suffer, watched me wither away until I resemble nothing but a raw, exposed nerve. She, of all people, would know the process of dissolving a fated mate bond. She’s lived through it herself. I think back to when I’d woken up, her hand running a cool rag over my fevered skin. I remember the way her voice faltered when she said, “My situation was…different. It wasn’t just him rejecting me. I rejected him too. We both severed the bond.”

She’d looked uneasy, guilty, even. And if I hadn’t been in too much pain to think straight, I might’ve caught the meaning behind her words then.

She knew. And she didn’t tell me.

But why ?

Swallowing down the burn of betrayal, I frantically look to Zora for more answers. “If I reject him now, if I sever my end of the bond, will I stop feeling like… this ?” Like I’m decaying from the inside out? Mind, body, and soul?

The pained, guilty look that crosses the healer’s face answers the question before she ever opens her mouth to speak. “It would have…if you’d rejected him when he rejected you, but now…” She falls silent, before continuing on after a heavy pause, “It’s too late for you to break your end of the bond. The damage has been done.”

“So, that it? I’m just left to rot away?”

Zora sits up straighter in her chair, wincing with regret. “Not necessarily.”

I motion impatiently with my hand, urging her to cough up whatever morsel of information she might have that will get me out of this fucking mess.

“The only thing that’s going to save you now, is the thing that broke you in the first place. Him. Rennick.” She says it like she’s bracing herself for the fallout, but I’m too far gone for rage. At this point, it barely even surprises me that Rennick Fallamhain is once again the answer to every catastrophic twist in my life. My long-standing theory that I pissed off some very powerful divine being in a past life creeps back into focus and pulls up a chair, smug as hell. Its taunting smirk making me want to growl.

“Specifically, his claiming bite,” the charmer clarifies. “It’s the only force strong enough to reconnect you to what’s left of the bond—the only thing capable of reviving it. Once that happens, it won’t just restore the bond. It’ll revive you, too. Because that kind of claim isn’t temporary. It’s binding. It will tether you to him and to life.”

“That’s bullshit!” I want to sound mad, affronted, but I’m sad to report, it comes out sounding more like a distraught whine.

Zora arches one brow at the innately omega sound I’ve embarrassed myself by making, and it’s not judgment I see in her eyes, but something worse. Pity.

“I’m inclined to agree.” Once again, she falls silent, and I know before she opens her mouth again that I’m not going to like what she has to say. “There’s something else we’ve been overlooking. You’re already presenting more omega traits,” she explains carefully, like she’s trying not to spook me. “And as your wolf continues to break free of the binds that hold her, those traits will only get stronger. You’ve got nearly eight years of suppressed instincts ready to slam into you without an ounce of remorse.”

I look at her with an unashamedly perplexed look, not catching her meaning.

“Noa, you’ve had seven years of suppressed heats. Whether you knew you were an omega or not. And now, all that built-up need, all that strain your body’s secretly withstood, it’s about to break through,” Zora says, her voice carefully measured, though the tension beneath it is impossible to miss. She’s trying to be gentle, but her worry seeps through every word. “An omega in peak condition would struggle under that kind of hormonal ambush. But you?” She exhales, shaking her head. “In your state, dear girl…when I say I’m concerned for you, it’s a gross understatement.”

Oh.

Oh, fuck…

My stomach flips and my brain shifts into overdrive, already trying to form a plan, a strategy, something that might prepare me for what’s coming. At the sanctuary, we’ve guided dozens of omegas through heats. But those were normal.Manageable. Standard heat cycles that still wrecked them for days. And even then, the herbal blends we gave them were just enough to dull the edge, to take the teeth out of their need. The knotted toys we offered were a joke compared to what their bodies were really begging for. Safe nests, soft lighting, calming voices, it all helped, sure, but it never truly eased the ache.

Not really.

Because none of it—not the herbs, not the luxury sex toys—could ever replace what their bodies were built to crave. What they needed.

An alpha.

They happen every other month, and Seren’s gone through three since Ivey was born. I remember how wrecked she’d been each time. How helpless I felt watching her suffer through it, trying not to break under the pressure of hormones and instincts she couldn’t satisfy.

And she’s healthy and I’m…just about half dead.

Maybe if I forgo the natural remedies and go for the big guns… What if I just sedate myself ? —

Zora tsks from her seat across the small table.

“I see where that mind of yours is wandering to, Noa Alderwood, and I’m going to tell you right now, it’s a shit plan. Going through this… super heat is going to wreck your system as it is. But if you try to outrun it or suppress it? That’s not just reckless, it’s a death sentence. Your body’s already hanging on by a thread. You try to force it through a storm like that without proper help, it’ll give out completely. At least, with an alpha’s… assistance through it, you might be able to bear it.”

“And where am I supposed to find an alpha to help me, Zora?” I question. It’s a battle to force the words to sound sarcastic and not as fearful as I actually feel about this revelation. “Should I go through your pack and find an alpha who’s willing to lend his time and knot to me for a couple days? A week?”

It’s her equally bland are you seriously asking me this right now? face that has my hackles rising and head shaking vehemently before she has the nerve to actually suggest it aloud.

“You’re joking,” I all but shriek, my tenuous grasp on my composure slipping. “You’re not seriously suggesting?—”

“I am,” she interjects. “He’s your mate, Noa, and fractured bond or not, he’s the only person that will be able to tether you—act as a lifeline of sorts—thought this. You need him. Your heat will, naturally, trigger his rut, though, which will no doubt lead to him claiming you. Which would be ideal since you also require his bite?—”

“No.” My refusal comes out strong, unwavering.

“No?”

I shake my head, firm, needing her to hear it. “Rennick made his choice, for his pack, for his omegas. That alliance with McNamara, as fucked as it is, is the path he’s resigned himself to. Taking Talis as his… mate ,” the word is a choked noise, scraping over all my raw wounds on its way out, “is the price for their protection. Even if he were to… want me , he can’t just make me his mate now instead of her. He didn’t sacrifice everything to walk away from it, and I didn’t claw my way through this week, fighting for every breath in my lungs and enduring every heartbeat that hurt like hell, just to let him feel…” I pause, grasping for the right word. “ Obligated . Like he has to choose me now just because I’m…” I can’t finish.

Can’t make myself say it. Not out loud.

Zora shakes her head. “You’re not going to tell him? You’re going to what, let yourself be sacrificed ?”

“I was already sacrificed, Zora,” I murmur. “I’m just finishing the job.”

“You’re making a mistake, Noa. Rennick wouldn’t want— If he knew, he wouldn’t allow this.”

I let out that same broken laugh from earlier, hollow and hopeless, because maybe she’s right. Maybe if he knew, he’d try to stop it. Try to fix it. The regret was all over his face earlier, carved into every tense muscle and shining in his somber gaze. Like he’s been shouldering the wreckage of us ever since the moment he tore it all apart. But Rennick made his choice. He chose his omegas. He found a way to protect them. I won’t be the reason he throws that away just to swoop in and save me. Not when I’m the one thing he already decided he could live without.

“What did we say about making rash choices? That the regret comes after the dust settles?” I ask, my voice a thick rasp. “Well, if you’re right, I won’t be here to see that happen.”

I guess I should be thankful I was too scared to even entertain him when he asked if there was a way to fix what he broke—to fix us . That kind of question, the kind that dangles possibility in front of your nose, it only leads to one thing: hope. And there’s nothing more dangerous than hope when you’ve already almost completely lost yourself, when you’ve already dragged your broken body through the wreckage of your bond. This way—by choosing to let it die, to not give him a chance to save it—I don’t have to fear more heartbreak. There’s a kind of peace in knowing I won’t have to survive another rejection. I can just…let go. Of him. Of all of it.