Page 29 of Primal (The Prey Drive #1)

Chapter 28

Rennick

I t happened in a blink. One moment I was sitting in my office, barely holding it together in front of my second and his mate, and the next, I was gone. His anguished howl tearing through my mind at a deafening octave was the only warning I got. There was no time to brace myself, no moment to prepare.

My wolf didn’t rise slowly or ask for control. He detonated.

There was no growl of protest. No building heat. Just a violent, consuming shift that ripped through skin and bone like I was nothing more than a barrier in his way. I didn’t shift, I was conquered. He forced his way out, and I became a spectator inside my own body, helpless as he seized full control.

I’d never surrendered to him before. Not completely. Not like that. We’d always moved in harmony, a shared cadence, mutual understanding. But this? This was something else. This was a primal instinct. Desperation and rage rolled into one.

And he was running.

One destination, one singular goal in mind.

To get to her.

His omega. Our fated mate.

I was just a passenger, unable to do anything but hold on while my wolf tore across the terrain like if he moved fast enough, he could outrun my mistakes. My crimes against her. Trees and mountains whipped by in a blur of shadow and earth as he charged east, toward the quaint Washington town on the other side of the state line. He didn’t stop, rarely slowed, the gut-wrenching truth spoken by Rhosyn his motivation—the thing that fueled his overexerted muscles, and the thing made him abandon his self-imposed isolation in the first place.

Rejected mate syndrome.

I’d heard the phrase in passing before, a rare and brutal condition. But I’d never known what it looked like. Never thought I’d be the one to cause it.

Now it was another thing I was going to have to find a way to fix—to heal—whatever it takes.

The streets of Ashvale were quiet and still by the time we reached the sleepy town. Which wasn’t surprising given the late hour. My wolf moved fast, traveling through the wooded edges of the town until we found it. The dark burgundy Victorian home that sat at the end of a street, set back into the trees and the narrow river down below.

Her scent hit us before we reached the manor.

It acted as a beacon, calling us in.

But as we approached the front walk, my wolf lifted his nose to the crisp air and breathed in deep. Her scent wasn’t coming from inside the house like it should have been, though. No, it was coming from out back.

The fence wasn’t much. Ornate ironwork, tall but decorative—easy to clear even in my wolf form. I landed silent on the other side and padded through the backyard, keeping to the shadows as best I could. I hadn’t been expecting it to be so big. It felt more like a garden than a yard, with winding stone paths, raised beds, bare vines twisted up wooden trellises. I imagined it would be beautiful come spring, full of color and scent.

But it was the far corner that stopped me cold.

There she was.

A listless shape, tucked beneath thick blankets, curled so small it barely looked like a person at all. Seeing her like that—out in the cold instead of inside where it was warm and safe—made something crack open in my chest at the sight of her. My wolf went deathly still. The sight before us had been so wrong, it made my skin pull too tight and my stomach twist to the point of pain.

And then, like the absolute idiot I am, I’d thought, Why is she out here? What happened to put her here like this?

The answer was instant and brutal.

You did, you fucking dumbass.

I’d caused this. My rejection. My cowardice. My stubbornness. All of it had driven her out here. In the dark. In the cold. Alone.

My wolf made sure not to approach her too suddenly. Instead, he stepped on a twig. The crack loud enough to break the quiet stillness of the space. Noa had stiffened and pulled herself into a seated position, a movement that looked like it took more energy than it should have.

Her unique gaze swept across the yard until it landed on my wolf.

She stared back, disbelieving and hesitant, as if she was having trouble trusting what she was seeing, that she couldn’t find it within herself to believe that my wolf— and I —would have bothered to come for her and this must just be a trick of her imagination. It stung, but I understood it.

My wolf felt just as uncertain now that he was almost within touching distance of her. Uncertainty coursed through his mind and muscles, scared that she wouldn’t want him there. That she’d send us away. He had no intention of going anywhere, regardless, but he wanted her to want him there. Craved her acceptance.

He braced for her disgust…her rejection.

But it didn’t come.

She just sat there, unmoving, looking at him, so he took it slow. Each step forward was deliberate and measured so she could count each lift of his paws if she wanted to. He stopped before the bed-like lounge she’d curled up on, close enough that she could reach out to him if she wanted to, but she remained frozen.

So, he’d dropped his head, resting it on the cushion before her crossed legs. A silent plea. Not a demand. Just the hope that maybe she’d reach out to us. At the same time, it was a sign of submission most alphas would balk at, but he was so far beyond caring about such trivial things like projecting his dominance.

The only thing that mattered to him was bridging the gap I’d created between us. My wolf cared deeply about our pack, about our people—the omegas under our care—but he cared about her more. The ancient council member Oswin voice echoed in my head like a bitter lesson learned too late, his words sharp. “An Alpha’s loyalty to his pack should be second to only one. His mate.”

I should have listened.

Right then, I made the vow again—not just to her, but to myself. I would put Noa first. Her needs, her happiness, her life would come before everything else. I’d still lead my pack. Still protect them. But my omega…she would come before everything else. Just like she should have from the beginning.

When her hand finally came down—fingertips caressing my wolf’s head—it felt like breathing after holding it too long. My wolf had gone still under her touch, reverent. She didn’t pull away. She kept going, petting him in slow strokes over his head, between his ears, across his neck and shoulders. Everywhere she could reach. And I…I stayed still and let it wash over me. Even watching from the back seat of my own body, I felt every graze of her hand like it was meant for me alone.

In that moment, I’ve never been more thankful for my animal half. Because of him, I felt genuine hope for the first time all week.

The purr that rumbled from my chest wasn’t just his. It was mine. That sound, low, steady, content, a sound I’ve only ever made once before. And it was for her. Only for Noa. Forever.

She looked so tired. Like she hadn’t slept in days. The circles under her eyes were almost black and blue bruises, and I knew if she didn’t rest soon, her already weakened body would betray her. My wolf knew it too. Which is why we’d curled up beside her, our body draped half over hers. She didn’t flinch. Didn’t tense. Just let go.

She’d fallen asleep fast. The kind of sleep that only comes when you feel safe enough to stop pretending you’re fine. She never shivered despite the chill in the air. My wolf’s heat kept her warm, tucked against him like she belonged there.

Because she did.

My wolf never slept. He closed his eyes, but he stayed alert. Breathing her in, guarding her, refusing to let exhaustion take him under. And I let him. Because I knew, deep down, that this was the only thing either of us had gotten right all week.

The first snowflakes started falling just before dawn. Just a few. Light, slow. But it was enough. I knew it couldn’t last. She needed to go inside. Needed more than a wolf curled around her and the open sky above her. And that meant I had to shift back. I had to take over.

But my wolf didn’t want to let go. Not yet.

So I made promises. Quietly, teetering on desperately. Over and over. I told him I would protect her. That I would care for her. That I would make this right. Not just tonight. Not just until she was safe inside. But every day after. I swore I’d fix the bond, that I’d fight for her until there was nothing left in me to give. I’d do whatever it took.

Eventually—reluctantly—like he still isn’t sure if he can believe me, he lets go.

Next to her, I shift back.

She’s tucked in close against me, fast asleep, her breath slow and even. The lines of pain and exhaustion that haunted her face are gone now, softened into something I’m almost too scared to call peace. It settles something sharp and edgy in my chest. It doesn’t erase the guilt, but it gives me a second of stillness I didn’t think I’d get. A glimpse of the girl she was before I ruined her. A glimpse of who she could be if I repair the damage.

But that calm is hard to hold on to with her pressed up against my heated, naked skin. My body reacts on instinct, blood surging low to my cock—my knot—before I can stop it. It’s not the time or place, and I hate the way it betrays me, but there’s no stopping it. She’s an omega curled into her alpha, even if we’re not bonded—not properly. Not anymore.

I’m grateful for the layers of fabric between us, even if they don’t do much to dull the ache.

One of those layers is my hoodie.

The green one.

I’d noticed it earlier, even before I shifted back, how she’d wrapped herself in it like it was a shield against the ache. It hadn’t escaped my notice that she’d been wearing it when she left my house yesterday, that she’d chosen—consciously or not—to steal it. I guess it’s not really stealing when I’d secretly hoped her budding omega instincts would encourage her to keep it when I’d first draped it around her. It was a breadcrumb, a silent offering I hadn’t had the courage to speak aloud.

The scent of me on it is fading, stale. I can tell. And I make a quiet promise to myself, in the faintest light of dawn, to fix that. To replace it or, better yet, leave behind a version of myself that doesn’t drift away so easily. Maybe that won’t happen today, but it will.

I lift my hand, slow and almost timidly, and let my fingers trace the curve of her cheek. Her skin is cool to the touch, but nowhere near as cold as it would have been if I hadn’t kept myself wrapped around her while she slept. She stirs at the contact, leans into it in her sleep like she’s chasing more of it. It’s intimate and cleaves something open in me.

I tell myself not to do it, but I do.

I lower my head and press the barest kiss to her temple, like it might shatter her if I’m not careful. Her lips part on a sigh, and something deep in my chest stirs. The bond—frayed and bleeding but still hanging on—vibrates in quiet response.

It’s still there. She’s still mine.

I give myself one last minute to enjoy the stillness of this moment, then I force myself to move, slipping from the lounge without waking her. She doesn’t stir, not even when I gently pull one of the blankets from her body and wrap it around my waist. An improvised solution in case I run into someone inside. I know Seren and Siggy live here full-time, but I don’t know where they sleep or if anyone else has taken up residence in this house. Noa didn’t give me the space to pry for such information—her boundary clearly in place—so I hadn’t.

I move slowly, carefully, as I gather her into my arms. She’s far too light, too fragile, but she fits against me so easily it physically causes a pain to bloom behind my sternum. My heart. She lets out a soft, unsettled whine, unmistakably omega, the kind that calls out to my alpha instincts. My chest rumbles with a soft purr in answer, and it soothes her instantly. Her head tucks beneath my chin, her breath brushing my skin, and her body goes still again. I hold her tighter, unwilling to tolerate even the air coming between us.

Carrying her feels natural, grounding. I shoulder through the back door and step into the sunroom. I follow the light streaming through a set of cracked French doors and step into the manor’s kitchen. It’s updated but maintains that original charm of the Victorian era. The walls are painted a dark green that makes the space feel inviting and the vintage pendants above the workbench fill the room with dim, warm light that shines on the hanging dried herbs, mismatched jars, and everything else that makes the room feel lived in. The kitchen reminds me more of an apothecary than a place to cook, but there’s something comforting in it. It’s the heart of her home and it screams of… her .

It makes me—maybe foolishly—wonder what she’ll do to my house. How she’ll change it. What she’ll claim and make hers. Because she can have free rein. I couldn’t care less what color the walls are or what ridiculous pattern she chooses for the damn throw pillows on the sectional. If she’s living there, coexisting with me as my mate, my omega, my Goddess-given Luna, she can paint the ceilings neon orange and leave her witchy shit in every corner of the place, for all I care. Hell, I’ll hand her my credit card with a smile on my face if it means she makes it ours. Hers. A space that feels like her personal touch is in every aspect of it. A space that feels like a home and not just a house.

I’m about to search for the stairs when a sweet scent cuts through the quiet—peony and white tea.

I turn, my body tensing instinctively.

Seren steps into one of the arched doorways that decorate either end of the long kitchen. With a cup of chamomile tea in her right hand that looks untouched and cold by the lack of steam, she leans against the doorframe. It’s a movement that screams of fought-for restraint. It’s the look that borders somewhere between grief and barely contained rage in her pale blue eyes that validates this thinking. Her unwavering eye contact is bold for an omega. I find I can’t help but respect her confidence.

She breaks through the silence first.

“I went to check on her and found her room empty,” she says. Her voice is calm, but I can hear the edge beneath it. “Thought she’d run off to do something recklessly altruistic since that seems to be where her head is these days.” She pauses, exhaling through her nose as she looks past me toward the sunroom. I don’t have a chance to ask what she means when she adds, “I wasn’t surprised to find her outside. Her mom used to do the same thing when she couldn’t sleep. But Thalassa, at least, had the sense not to do it when winter wasn’t edging us.”

She’s clearly agitated, frustrated, but it’s just as obvious that it’s coming from a place of unfathomable fear for her best friend.

Her gaze returns to mine and sharpens.

“I was surprised to find you with her, Alpha ,” she adds, and the title is laced with enough disdain to make it feel like a slur.

“I found her out there when I got here,” I say, adjusting my hold on Noa, who remains blissfully unaware of the tension in the room. Good. She needs to sleep as long as her body will allow her. “I made sure she stayed warm.”

“How noble of you.”

I bristle but bite my tongue. Seren’s been here on the front lines, no doubt scrambling to glue the pieces of her best friend together.

She tilts her head slightly, lips pressing into a thin line. “And what exactly are you doing here, anyway, Fallamhain? You didn’t choose Noa, remember? You turned your back on her. So, what else could you possibly want from her now? Or are you some kind of sick sadist who just likes seeing his handiwork up close?”

It’s my turn to scowl at her, my wolf stiffening and his ears pinning to his head as a warning snarl builds in the back of my throat.

“Watch it…” I caution.

She doesn’t heed my warning. The blonde omega shoves off the doorway and marches forward a few steps. It’s clear her devastation on behalf of her friend is fueling her right now. “She doesn’t have anything left to give you. You already took everything! So why the fuck are you here?”

At her raised voice, Noa shifts in my arms, another pitiful whimper escaping her pouted lips. Not giving a shit if we have an audience or not, my alpha side responds to her distress instantly, my chest revving back up with a vibrating purr.

Through the rumble, I glare back at my omega’s irate friend. “Keep your fucking voice down. You can be pissed at me all you want, but if you wake her up when she so clearly needs sleep, you’re going to find out which one of us is scarier when mad.”

I feel my wolf push forward, my eyes shifting as he peers out at her.

She’s wise enough to retreat a step, the air that was fizzing around her with fury waning, but she’s not done yet, not really. “You can’t show up here and act like you give a shit now, Fallamhain.”

Her point is valid, which is why I retract some of my own terseness.

“You might not believe me, and I’m not going to beg you for your understanding or forgiveness before I’ve had a chance to get on my knees and plead for my life with Noa first—since she’s the one who needs to hear it and not you—but I will answer your earlier question, Seren. I’m not here to take anything from Noa,” I tell her as I notice I’ve rubbed the underside of my chin along Noa’s temple, twice, since confronted by Seren. It’s as if the need to scent mark her as mine in the face of someone who might possibly try to pull her from my arms has worked its way into my subconscious. Seren notices too, but I don’t bother trying to look ashamed. I just do it again to be sure Noa’s properly coated in my scent. “I don’t want to take anything. I want to give her everything. I just want to fix it. Heal her.”

Seren doesn’t look convinced, but it’s obvious I’ve piqued her interest, whether she wants me to or not. “You want to fix it?”

I nod once. “ Yes .”

“What about Chucky’s bride? Your Luna-to-be?”

There’s no smothering my wolf’s reaction to this, to hearing that woman’s name while his omega is nestled in my arms. In his mind, talking about Talis McNamara while cradling Noa is a betrayal against our mate. I don’t wholly disagree with his primitive, black-and-white thought process, because I end up snarling, “She will never be my Luna,” before I can rein myself in.

My reaction to her question catches Seren off guard. She recoils, taking another half step back, her blonde brows pulling together. “And may I ask what changed your mind? Because not that long ago, you were letting that sea hag rip apart the precious cargo passed out in your arms.”

Again, she’s got a point.

Sighing, I resign myself to telling her pieces of what I’d prefer Noa hears first, since she’s the one who deserves these words, but winning over the best friend is a requirement if I want to make any headway with my omega.

“There’s a long list of things I’ll spend the rest of my life making up for, Seren. Letting Talis stand beside me and say those things to Noa— my mate —will always be near the top of it.” I pause, making sure she hears it, the truth in every word. “But the very top of that list? It’s that I let Noa believe I didn’t want her. That I stood there and made her feel like she wasn’t worth choosing.” I glance down at the woman in my arms, barely breathing as I continue. “My reasons…they felt justified at the time. I told myself it was for the pack, that it was my burden to bear as Alpha. But all that logic doesn’t mean a fucking thing when the cost was her thinking she wasn’t worthy. The truth is, I’m the one who’s not worthy. Not of her forgiveness. Not of her trust. But I’ll spend the rest of this life, and whatever comes after, proving how wrong I was to ever make her believe otherwise.”

The blonde omega came at me swinging earlier, all fire and fury, so I brace myself for more of the same when I finish speaking. But instead of more venom, she sniffles, clearly fighting off tears. Her bloodshot eyes flick down to where Noa’s still curled against my chest, and for a split second, my heart drops. I think she might be awake. That maybe she heard what I said.

It’s not that I don’t want her to hear it. I do—more than anything. But I want the words to land when they matter most. When she’s looking at me and can see that I mean every goddamn syllable. I want her to hear them in a moment that leaves no room for doubt.

But she doesn’t stir. Her breathing stays soft and even, cheek pressed to my chest like she’s still listening to the steady rhythm beneath it.

I breathe again.

She wipes at her eyes before the tears can fall. I don’t really know the full reasons for the tears, but I appreciate that she’s so fiercely in Noa’s corner. “Yeah, well, what are you going to do about your betrothal? Because the last I heard, you’re still having an issue with your omegas…” She trails off, a contemplative look on her face, like she knows something else but isn’t sure she should offer up more details. “You should really talk to Noa about that, by the way.”

“I know,” I say quietly. “And I will.”

Seren doesn’t back off. “If you’re still tangled up in that alliance with the Canadian asshole, how exactly do you plan on fixing things with Noa?”

“That part’s still in motion,” I admit. “But what I do know—what I won’t budge on—is that there’s no version of this life where I wear a mating mark that doesn’t come from her.”

The blonde omega freezes, an expression of cautious hope that is riddled with fear overtaking her face. Her upturned-shaped eyes growing wide as she stares up at me like I might hold all the answers she’s looking for.

“Do you mean that?” she asks, her voice rough with something close to desperation. “Because I will sense if you’re lying, Fallamhain. So, answer carefully. I don’t have a single qualm about skinning you alive and waving you like a flag outside your pack’s gates if you’re full of shit right now.”

Sense . Am I dealing with another empath and didn’t know it? What else has she been able to pick up on since we started talking?

Has she been able to sense my sincerity, my raw honesty?

That might work in my favor, actually.

“Of course I mean it,” I tell her, without a hint of hesitation.

But when I look to her to explain herself, I find she’s the one who’s hesitating now. Her bottom lip between her front teeth, unease clear in her stiff posture. Finally, she exhales, and whispers dejectedly, “She’s going to kill me,” before squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin. “All right. I believe you. Despite all your utter fuckery, I can sense your… desperation —” That’s putting it mildly. “—to fix this. Now, we just need to make her believe you because at the end of the day, that’s all what matters.”

I’m struck frozen because I think I just found myself an unexpected ally in Noa’s best friend.