Page 27 of Primal (The Prey Drive #1)
Chapter 26
Rennick
T his room feels wrong.
After my little rampage earlier this week, all the splintered furniture and shattered décor have been cleared out. I don’t know who handled it—and I haven’t asked—but I’m grateful for the silent help, because I haven’t exactly been in a state to deal with redecorating. Everything is gone now, except for the cracked bookcase in the corner, its shelves stripped bare of books and knickknacks. A new chair and desk were brought in to replace the ones I obliterated. I’m sitting in the leather rolling chair now while Rhosyn is perched on the edge of the large metal desk, kicking her feet in that deceptively casual way that doesn’t match the weight of the conversation we’re circling around.
A conversation I’m not as invested in as I should be since my mind is still locked on her.
Our little trio had locked ourselves in here about an hour ago, right after Noa returned from wherever she’d disappeared to. She didn’t stay long—just enough time to say goodbye to Rhosyn and Canaan, and to collect Siggy.
That part hadn’t gone over well. Yrsa had been under the impression her daughter was staying. I’d silently hoped, maybe foolishly, that Siggy would want to come back. That she’d feel safe enough here. That this place, these people who love her, might be enough to pull her home. But fear doesn’t let go so easily. Her trauma still clings to her, its claws sunk too deep for her to feel safe here yet.
Another failure I’ll carry with me until I fix it too.
I didn’t blame her for choosing Ashvale. I wouldn’t have blamed her for choosing anywhere Noa was going.
Yrsa tried to argue, throwing the weight of her alpha designation around more than I was willing to tolerate. With a low warning growl that told her to watch her tone around Noa, she’d adjusted appropriately. But she didn’t give up her cause, going on to claim she could protect her own daughter and that the borders were better fortified, thanks to the McNamara enforcers stationed throughout the territory.
A statement that made both Noa and me grimace.
The critical and disappointed look Siggy had sent me over Noa’s shoulder told me the young omega was more than aware what it is costing to have those extra guards. It also proved Siggy was just as fiercely protective of Noa as Noa was of her. It was endearing and made me oddly proud of my mate that she’s so easily able to bring people into her graces.
Yrsa kept pushing, saying Siggy would be better off in her own bed, here in the safety of her pack. But Noa stood up for her in a way I don’t think the alpha female had expected. Calm but unwavering, she told Yrsa it wasn’t our choice, it was Siggy’s.
Yrsa eventually relented.
Maybe it was Noa’s restraint, the way she never once raised her voice. Maybe it was that Canaan and Rhosyn backed her without hesitation, further proof of their fast-growing loyalty to one another. Or maybe, deep down, Yrsa knows what I do—that Siggy trusts Noa in a way that isn’t easily earned, in a way that doesn’t shift just because someone else thinks she should feel safe. She found her healing in Ashvale.
In Noa’s warm, gentle energy.
That’s where she feels safe.
And I can’t say I don’t understand why.
When Noa left, she looked up at me. Just once. Long enough to knock the air right from my fucking lungs. There was no anger in her expression, no hurt. Just quiet, tired resignation. It’s as if she’d made peace with something I’d yet to understand.
And I still don’t. The memory of it has been gnawing at me ever since she walked out and didn’t glance back at me despite the way I’d silently been pleading with her to.
Even now, with Canaan leaning against the wall near the busted bookshelf and Rhosyn perched on the edge of my desk—seriously, I need to get a damn couch or a couple of chairs in here—we’re trying to brainstorm alternatives to the alliance I’m desperate to burn to the ground.
And all I can think about is the look on her face as she left.
She’s my mate. That truth lives in every thought I have, every steady, stubborn beat of my heart. It’s imprinted into the marrow of me, undeniable and constant—Noa.
And seeing her today only confirmed what I’d figured out too late.
I will never claim someone else in her place. Not for protection. Not for peace. Not even to save my own damn life. Because as long as Noa is out there, breathing, existing, walking this world, there isn’t a single part of me that could ever accept another. There’s no version of this life, or the next, where I could stomach that kind oflie. My wolf would destroy them. And I, willingly, viciously, would destroy myself as well.
It’s a realization that came too damn late. A mistake so obvious in hindsight, I can’t believe how blind I was not to see it sooner. But it’s mine now, mine to bear the weight of and mine to fix. Because I will spend every breath from here on out trying to make it right.
To do right by her.
My sweet Noa.
Because the only mark I will allow to grace my throat is hers.
Just the thought of her teeth sinking into my neck, staking her claim, binding us in a way no diamond ring ever could, sends a low jolt down my spine. My cock stirs at the image, thickening with interest, straining against the confines of my faded jeans despite the company in the room. Inappropriate? No question. But fuck, it’s the first time in…shit, I can’t even remember, that it’s responded to anything that wasn’t coaxed by my own hand and a tired routine.
It's her.
And the mental visual of her breath on my throat. The brush of her soft lips. The scent of her skin—now sweetened with her awakening omega designation. The thought of her claiming me, fiercely, unapologetically, makes my blood burn hot in my veins, my body hungry in a way I don’t ever recall it being. I want to feel the sting of her bite and I want to feel her wrapped around me as I surrender to it.
Because I’ve never craved anyone like I crave her.
My father used to ask if there was someone special. Every time I came home from college, or during the years when I split my time between here and run the business with Rook, the question always came. And every time, my answer was the same.
I hadn’t found anyone worth noticing. My cock had always backed that sentiment up.
I spent those years brushing off offers like they were obligations. Rook, who was never shy with his own conquests, never let it go. “You turning down pussy is starting to feel like a cry for help,” he’d say, like I was defective.
But the truth was, it was easy. I didn’t want it. Didn’t crave what they offered. No matter how eager the attention, how warm the bed, it all felt empty. Mechanical. Jerking off in the shower was easier. More honest. Still is.
And I’m starting to realize it’s because it’s always been her. Whether I knew it or not, whether I remembered her or not. I think some buried part of me always knew who Noa Alderwood was meant to be to me. It mourned her in silence, even while staying fiercely, stubbornly loyal. Like some part of me—my wolf, my soul—was waiting for someone it couldn’t name but deeply missed.
Which just further proves that I need to make this right. I tried to ask her today, tried to find the words. The right ones. I wanted to ask if there was any hope of fixing this. Of repairing the damage I caused in my blind desperation to be the Alpha I thought my people needed. I let duty warp my instincts, twisted myself into someone I barely recognize, all to prove I could protect this pack. That I was worthy of the role I was forced to take.
But the broken way she looked today, standing in front of me days after I turned my back on the most sacred bond I’ll ever have…it hasn’t left me. And I doubt it ever will. She looked like someone surviving on willpower alone.The guilt crashes through me like cold water, and just like that, the tension in my jeans eases, desire swallowed by shame.
I’m almost thankful that she hadn’t pretended to entertain my questions today on the back deck. She’d cut me off almost instantly before cutting me down with her own brutal truth. It’s for the best because I’m not free yet, still tied to McNamara’s bargain. The last thing I want is to give Noa hope when I’m still tethered to that smug bastard across the border.
All I wanted to do was take her into my arms, to breathe her in and swear that I’m not going through with it. That I’d sooner burn everything to the ground than mark someone who isn’t her. But I can’t—not yet. Not without a plan. Not without a damn good alternative.
Because Cathal McNamara is a petty son of a bitch with a glass ego, and I wouldn’t put it past him to retaliate the second I back out of our deal. His pride is laughably fragile, and if he even thinks I’ve embarrassed him—or worse, bruised his precious daughter’s feelings—he’ll come for blood, just to soothe his own damn insecurities.
So, yeah, I need to be smart. Fast. Thorough. I need backup. And I need leverage, enough to shit in his Cheerios and wreck any shot he has at retaliation before the thought even crosses his petty little mind.
“Nick.”
Rhosyn cuts through my spiral, her voice calm but edged with urgency.
“I got a number for Lowri Craddock while I was in Ashvale,” she says, crossing her arms, her feet ceasing their rhythmic swinging. “Thought maybe we could reach out. See if the she-wolves and maybe the Ashvale witches might be willing to help. Lowri and the High Priestess are together, so if you get one, you’re bound to get both of them to help.”
My body tightens, revolting at the very idea of encroaching on Noa’s space—her people—for this. Official or not, they are Noa’s pack. And besides, would they want to help me and my pack after they stood witness to what I did?
Sensing my hesitation, Canaan pushes off the wall. “You can’t afford to be picky right now, man.”
He’s right, and I hate that he’s right. Silently, I agree that if it comes down to it, I will contact Noa’s people. I just hope that by doing so, it’s not another mark against me in Noa’s book.
She told you she would have helped if you’d only given her the chance, a voice in my head reminds me, echoing Noa’s words from her justified, shrewdly worded verbal beatdown earlier. She probably would have involved them anyway.
And yet, here I am, feeling like I need permission, like I need to fix at least some of the damage I’ve done to her before I dare use her connections for my own purposes. It feels selfish. It feels wrong.
My fingers drum once against the desk, then still. I glance between them, heart thudding in my chest as I say the words I’ve been turning over in the back of my mind for days. “What about Grimm Faolan?”
The room goes quiet. Dead quiet. Rhosyn stares at me like I’ve sprouted a clown nose, and Canaan lifts his eyebrows before letting out a low whistle, shaking his head slowly like he’s torn between disbelief and concern.
“I know I just said we can’t be picky,” he mutters, “but Faolan? Are you serious? That Alpha is basically feral.”
He’s not wrong. Grimm Faolan and his Montana-based pack are more beast than man. From what I’ve heard, they live half wild, letting their baser instincts govern them. They walk on four paws more often than two feet, and they handle threats the same way a rabid wolf pack would in the wild. By ripping them limb from limb with their teeth.
I thoughtmyfather kept our territory isolated, but Grimm puts him to shame. I don’t know a single soul who’s ever stepped foot on their land and come back with a firsthand account. I only saw Grimm once at a national Alpha summit my father dragged me to when I was sixteen. Even then, the heavily tattooed man radiated something dangerous. Wild. Untouched by politics or pack diplomacy. The most dominant Alphas in the room knew better than to look him in the eye.
But maybe that’s exactly what I need. Someone who answers to no one. Who doesn’t give a damn about alliances or traditions.
This will only work if he gives a damn about omegas, though.
Canaan’s still shaking his head, but eventually he nods with a resigned sigh. He knows as much as I do that we are desperate. I am desperate. “It’s crazy, but all right. I’ll see if I can dig up a contact number.”
Rhosyn adds, “I’ve been able to make a few contacts myself with other packs’ admins. I’ll see if anyone knows anything useful about the Faolan Pack.” She types notes into her phone as she speaks.
Silence settles again, but my mind’s not quiet. It drifts, as it always does, back to her. To Noa.
I let out a long breath, hand tightening into a fist against my thigh. Even if I’m determined to win her back, I can’t shake the creeping doubt that she’ll ever accept me again.
Inside me, my wolf remains still, but not cold. He lies there, the frayed thread between his paws. And this time, when I reach toward it, he lets me. He doesn’t growl or pull away. He watches me. It’s a start.
Progress.
The connection is distant, but there. Alive. Humming away, just waiting for me to put it back together again.
I glance up, breaking the silence with the question that’s been gnawing at me since the moment I saw her at the outlook.
“How bad was it?”
It’s been days since the initial blow, and yet she still looked like she was one strong gust of wind away from blowing over, from dissolving into dust. She moved like everything hurt. If it’s still this bad now, how bad was it when they first got her out of that clearing.
The mated pair look lost at first by my question, but as it dawns on them, their faces pull tight. The disappointment and disgust that had been slowly easing since they got back slams back into place, full force, like I’ve ripped the scab off all over again.
Rhosyn doesn’t answer with words at first.
She just smacks the side of my head.
Hard.
“Bad, you fucking idiot, it’s bad ,” she snaps, her voice thick with frustration. “I adore you—as my Alpha and my friend—but you fucked up, Nick. You fucked up so bad .”
I nod, slow and stiff. “I’m going to make it right.”
“Well, you’d better work fast,” she shoots back, arms crossed. “You saw what she looks like.”
I did. And it’s burned into me now. A part of me that I will carry everywhere I go.
“I didn’t know a broken bond would do that to her,” I say quietly, the words tasting like rust in my mouth. It’s not an excuse, I know that. I’m not trying to make one. It’s just the truth. “I didn’t realize it could be like this. I…I just didn’t know.”
“You’re right. You didn’t,” she says, tone softer now. But there’s something in her voice. Guilt, maybe, or pity, that makes my skin crawl. She hesitates, looking at her mate briefly, before she speaks again, and when she does, her voice carries the weight of something I don’t want to hear. “It’s more than just a broken mate bond, Nick. She has rejected mate syndrome.”
My heart stops.
She keeps going, like the words will hurt less if she gets them out quickly.
“She didn’t reject you back, her side of the bond is making her he’s wasting away.”
I don’t fucking breathe. Can’t.
My wolf lifts his head, howling in agony.
It’s the only warning I get before he rips out of my skin.