Page 3 of Primal (The Prey Drive #1)

Chapter 2

Noa

I t hits me like a blow straight to the diaphragm to drive the familiar winding roads that lead through the ten-thousand acres that make up the Fallamhain Pack territory. In many ways, it looks like nothing has changed, but in others, it couldn’t be more unrecognizable.

The old schoolhouse looks to have had an expansion added to it and there is a fresh coat of rich red paint on the sturdy wood siding. There’s also a new playground behind the building and…is that a chicken coop? The first day of school I ever attended was in that building, but when I was a student there, it hardly had enough room to house four classrooms. If I hadn’t already clocked how many new cabins sit where there used to be nothing but thick forest, the addition to the school alone would tell me how the pack’s numbers have grown.

The entrance to the trail I used to take down to the creek doesn’t exist anymore. Instead, what looks to be a general store of sorts resides there. The white paint and black trim give it a quaint farmhouse vibe that I would consider to be welcoming if it were located anywhere else. Next to the general store is an equally charming café. The glowing LED sign shaped like a cup of coffee makes my lips twitch.

Growing up here, one of the biggest nuisances we faced was that we had to drive thirty-five minutes to the shops in Silverthorne to purchase any kind of necessities. Even if deliveries were permitted, the community is tucked so deep into the Selkirk Mountain Range few companies were willing to make the drive to transport our goods. Those who were willing charged a small fortune. Forgetting something as simple as eggs turned into a whole ordeal come mealtime. Going to get coffee with my friends as a preteen was merely a wistful thought when I lived here, but now, it looks like the pack has lattes within walking distance.

In an odd way, it makes me happy to see the pack has found a way to become more self-sufficient. The growth and development of the community tells me in our absence, the pack has not only grown but also thrived.

For the first couple years when we were rebuilding our lives in Ashvale, my sulking teenage brain fixated on the possibilities of what could be happening back here. What had changed? Who had finally come into their wolves after they turned eighteen, and what designation did they present as once they shifted? Alpha, beta or omega? Did the classmates and friends I’d had since we were pups ever think about me the way I was still thinking about them? Were any of them lucky enough to find their fated mate?

I was around twenty when I finally swallowed the bitter pill of my new reality and forced myself to stop marinating in the grief of losing my pack and to stop getting lost in my thoughts of “home”. That “home” no longer existed for me.

So, I refused to allow my brain to wonder about the changes here or what was happening with the people I’d grown up with. None of it was any of my business anymore.

Taking the right turn where the paved road ends and transitions into a long gravel driveway, I learn those aren’t the only updates that have happened in my time away.

The Alpha’s house was always a grand structure. Even if Alpha Fallamhain lived here alone with just his son after his mate had died, council meetings and pack gatherings were often held here. Having plenty of space was not only a luxury, but a necessity for this home. In the years since I last saw it, the river rock and log cabin style McMansion has been modernized into a thing of architectural beauty. The sides of the home that aren’t made of light stacked stone and vertically placed black slats of rustic wood are made of large steel-framed floor-to-ceiling windows. The rooflines are sharp and elegant, and due to the chill in the mid-October air, smoke swirls out of the various stone chimneys. The updated, very contemporary design somehow still manages to have the rustic warmth and charm a traditional log cabin would have.

It couldn’t be more different from the historic Victorian manor I’ve called home these past years, but both homes are beautiful in their own rights.

Turning my attention away from the magazine-ready-style house, I carefully maneuver between other vehicles parked on the circle-shaped driveway to park behind a well-loved vintage baby-blue Land Rover.

My hands are shaking around the steering wheel I can’t seem to release. The energy coming from my contained animal is wreaking havoc on my nervous system. She bangs and thrashes against the glass walls that feel like they’re five feet thick. Her desperation is squeezing my insides, making it hard to so much as take in a lungful of air. Never in all my years of cohabitating with her has she behaved like this.

I’m considering sending up a silent apology to Mom and blowing this Popsicle stand haunted by memories and bad vibes when the large frame of a man appears in my rearview mirror.

“Shit!” I breathlessly yelp as I jump about a foot in my seat.

Not dramatic at all, Noa.

The way he’s positioned, I can only make out the wide expanse of his broad, dark T-shirt-covered chest, and his suntanned arms folded across it. For a second, I silently wonder if the man is the Alpha’s son. I try to conjure up a memory of what he looked like, but for the life of me, my mind’s eye remains frustratingly blank.

The man standing behind my Jeep shifts on his feet, alerting me to his impatience. With a painfully slow exhale, I remove my keys from the ignition and briefly look myself over in the mirror. Placing my sunglasses on my head, I straighten out the Bardot-style bangs framing my face and wipe away a bit of smudged mascara.

When I’m as presentable as I’m going to get, I glance at the still buckled-in urn in my passenger seat. There’s no point in taking it out of the car until I know the verdict of this meeting.

“I hope you knew what you were doing when you left me these fan-fucking-tastic instructions, Mom, because right now I’m thinking you were batshit crazy and it took me until this very second to realize it,” I grumble under my breath, hoping the shifter waiting for me doesn’t overhear me. My senses may be slightly enhanced but they’re about as useful as a human’s compared to a true shifter’s. I would wager that he can pick up on my erratic heartbeat from outside the vehicle.

Palming my keys in a grip so hard the metal digs into my palm, I find the courage to exit the safety of my car and face the sentry.

Despite not being able to recall what the Alpha’s son looked like, I know immediately this alpha male isn’t him. And my wolf knows it too. In her usual fashion, she bristles at the male’s tea tree and lime scent. It’s not that he smells bad. If anything, I’m usually fond of those scent notes. Hell, I handle tea tree on an almost daily basis back at the apothecary, but when the scent comes attached to a man, it’s like sandpaper to my sinuses.

“I didn’t think you were ever going to get out of the car,” the rumbly timbre of his voice washes over me, making my eyes dip to his slightly scuffed white sneakers. While the alpha aura coming off him isn’t suffocating, it’s just enough to make my inner wolf want to show deference. Those ingrained instincts are hard to fight. “I thought about knocking on your window, but I didn’t want to startle you more than I clearly already did.”

Crap…so he did hear me.

The sarcastic side of my brain wants to scoff at this and ask why he’s worried about the well-being of an exiled latent wolf, but I’m smarter than that. Instead, I clear my throat and flick my gaze to where messy, light brown hair hangs over the middle of his forehead. Some alphas see direct eye contact as a challenge and if there is one thing I know I want to avoid, it’s that. No point in picking fights you know you’re not going to win.

“Sorry for keeping you waiting. I was just trying to get my shit together.” Oops . My chronic potty mouth strikes again. Way to make a good impression. “Sorry, I just mean I was trying to talk myself into getting out of the car. If I’m being honest, I don’t really want to be here.”

As I fleetingly allow myself to look into his hazel eyes, I see something that looks shockingly like empathy in the chestnut-and-green-flecked orbs. Empathy is something I was not expecting to receive today.

“Rhosyn told me why you requested a meeting with our Alpha. You have my condolences. Losing a parent is…” He trails off with a solemn shake of his head. “I know how heavy the weight of that loss is. I’m just thankful I had my pack and my mate to get me through it when my dad passed a few years back.”

His words, while well-intended, are like a hot poker to the still exposed wound my mom’s untimely death has left. “Yeah,” I mutter after swallowing down the prickly ball of emotions that has lodged itself in my throat. “You’re one of the lucky wolves to have that kind of support around you.”

The sympathy that is reflected in his features is too much for me to handle and I drop my attention to his shoes again.

“Yes, that I am,” he agrees in a tone that is alarmingly gentle. I walked into this conversation braced for all kinds of outcomes, but being met with…genuine warmth? That wasn’t on my bingo card. “I’m sorry. I haven’t introduced myself yet.” My eyes widen when he holds his hand out. “I’m Canaan Roarke, Rhosyn’s mate and the Alpha’s second-in-command. Rosie got caught up dealing with a pack matter and asked me to meet you here since she knew I was headed this way already for a meeting. She’s ordered me to tell you she’s sorry she’s running behind and that she promises she’ll try her best to get here before you leave.”

There’s something about the way he introduces himself as his female’s mate before announcing his substantial pack rank that makes my heart tighten with a kind of jealousy I’ve never felt prior to this. To have a mate who is so proud of being yours he goes out of his way to let people know of your bond? That’s something I can only dream of one day having myself, and if my wolf’s behavior toward the male species is any indication, it will only ever be just that. A dream.

And it’s because of this I flick my eyes at his offered hand before tucking my own hands behind my back. I’m not a rude person. My mom ensured I knew all my manners, but with my wolf already on edge, I can’t fathom allowing myself to come into physical contact with an alpha male right now. As it is, I’m barely holding it together with the inner turmoil she’s creating.

“I’m Noa Alderwood,” I introduce myself, my voice sounding strained to even me. “But I’m pretty sure you already knew that.”

To my relief, Canaan doesn’t comment on the way I’ve rejected his offered hand and instead lets it drop casually to his side. “Rosie may have mentioned it when she called and explained the mystery meeting that showed up on our Alpha’s schedule today.”

Feeling a touch more relaxed, I tilt my head up to finally look at the man before me. He’s older than me, probably early thirties, but the boyish charm of his handsome features makes him appear younger than he most likely is. It’s the laugh lines around his eyes that give his true age away.

There’s about four days’ worth of growth over his strong jaw and chin. His hair is streaked with lighter strands that are more than likely caused by the sun. Wolf shifters are most content outdoors. The golden tan and sun-bleached strands confirm this to be true for the alpha male before me. He doesn’t have any tattoos I can see. The only thing to “blemish” his skin is the mating mark on the side of his corded neck, but I wouldn’t consider that to be a true blemish. It’s a scar to be worn with abundant pride and from the very way he simply says his mate’s name, I know to my very core this alpha is a goner for his mate.

One thing I don’t quite understand is how Canaan came to be the pack Alpha’s second. From what I can remember, the Alpha’s brother had acted as his second for the entire duration of his governance. If something had happened to Merritt’s brother, the logical move would have been to pass the job off to his own son. As the Alpha’s heir, it would make sense for him to start off in a less demanding position where he can learn the ropes before donning the metaphorical crown after his father’s retirement or death. Has something happened to the Alpha’s brother and son, and that’s why Canaan has found himself in this high-ranking position?

These questions run rampant around in my brain for a moment before I seize them and lock them away. The hierarchy and politics of the Fallamhain Pack are none of my concern.

“I’m really thankful to your mate that she was able to fit me in.” I nudge the gravel below my feet with the tip of my thick-soled Chelsea boot. “I’ve been putting this off for a while now and it’s hard to explain, but today, for some odd reason, just felt…right. Like it was finally time.”

“I understand.” Canaan turns and gestures toward the iron and glass front door of the impressive house. “We have a meeting with our pack council and another pack’s leader right after yours, so let’s get you inside and settled so you’re ready to go once Alpha Fallamhain is back. He’s still finishing up his run and he’s assured me he wouldn’t disappear for too long today. I don’t believe him for shit, but we’re still going to make sure you’re on time even if his ass isn’t. We’ve got a bit of a tight schedule with Rhosyn throwing in this curve ball.”

While the wolf side of me is still reeling from the proximity to Canaan, the human side of me can’t help but feel oddly at ease around the burly man.

With hands balled into fists and my poor battered bottom lip trapped between my teeth, I follow the pack’s second-in-command into the equally remarkable house interior. High ceilings, white-oak floors, and impeccably selected furnishings made of natural materials greet us, but it’s not the tasteful décor that nearly brings me to my knees. It’s the scent that is permeating every damn square inch of the space and invading my lungs.

Vetiver. Leather. Mint.

Earthy. Warm. Refreshing.

Addicting.

My entire being trembles down to the pieces that make up my very essence and my wolf rages war against her confinement as I greedily inhale. What is this? What is happening?

Shaking, lightheaded, and alarmingly clammy, I’m unable to force myself to move. I’m frozen in place in the foyer of this vast, delicious - smelling house, and that’s where Canaan finds me still standing when he realizes I’m no longer following him.

“Noa?” he asks, sounding cautious.

He probably thinks you’re losing it. Get your shit together and stop embarrassing yourself.

Head snapping up in his direction, I gasp out, “Air. I think I need some air.”

Before he can stop me, I’m rushing through the grand sitting room that’s connected to the foyer and toward the wall of modern glass doors that lead to a deck. Why I didn’t simply turn around and head back through the front door is beyond me. I think the alpha male calls my name again and his footsteps thunder after me, but I don’t slow down until I’m through the door and welcomed by the scent of the snowy mountains and pine trees.

Instantly, I miss that alluring scent inside the house and the way it had enveloped me entirely, but I’m also relieved to have my faculties restored. The haze lifts from my brain and I can think clearly once more.

“I’m sorry,” I gasp to Canaan, who’s watching me with unmasked concern. “It’s just been a long day.”

It’s been a long eight months and today is just the cherry on fucking top of the shit ice cream sundae.

“It’s all right, but are you okay? You’re really pale…” He trails off, hazel eyes searching me for any other signs of distress. “Do you want to go inside and sit down? I’ll take you to the conference room and then grab you a bottle of water or something. Rhosyn has a stash of chocolate around here somewhere I can sniff out if you need some sugar…”

“No!” I answer far too quickly. “No, thank you,” I repeat, this time with less haste and a politeness my mother would be proud of. “Is there any possible way I can meet with your Alpha out here instead of inside?”

Please say yes, because if you make me go back inside that house, I might end up embarrassing myself further by doing something stupid. Like shoving my face into every soft fabric I can find and inhaling that scent like I’m a cocaine addict in a club bathroom.

“Uh…” The second-in-command looks unsure before hesitantly offering me a shrug. “I mean, sure why not? He might appreciate not having to be cooped up inside for longer than he has to be today.”

I offer him a thankful smile before turning and grabbing hold of the metal deck railing. The view from here is breathtaking and a heavy type of homesickness I haven’t felt until right this second washes over me like a cold wet blanket.

Familiar snow-capped granite mountains peek over the tops of tall trees and despite the cold, the early afternoon sunshine reflects off the lake below. Memories of spending scorching summer days down at that lake fill my head. A specific memory of me kicking water at someone and them retaliating by grabbing hold of my bathing-suit-clad body and tossing me into the cold depths while we both laughed plays like a movie inside my head. For the life of me, I can’t seem to conjure up the face of my playful assailant. It had to be one of my friends from school, I just can’t recall which one.

“It’s a pretty good view, huh?” Canaan asks conversationally, pulling me out of the memory I’m not entirely sure is mine at this point. Why can’t I remember who threw me into the water? “It’s one of the things that made me fall in love with this place when I moved here. A single glance at that mountain range and I knew I was home.”

Home. After all the time away from this land and the way we were ousted from it, Canaan’s words shouldn’t cause my soul to ache or my eyes to burn with unwanted emotion.

Swallowing hard, I drop my sunglasses back down onto my face to hide the unexpected tears and force words out of my tight throat. “This used to be my home. For eighteen years, I looked at this view every day. I haven’t seen it in a long time, but trust me, I never once forgot it.”

If I hadn’t seen it myself, I wouldn’t believe the way the big male winces at my words. “Right. I heard a little bit about your…exit from the pack. Something like that never should have?—”

Before Canaan can finish his odd sentence or I can make a sarcastic quip about his placating use of the word “ exit ”, a haughty and trill voice resonates from behind us.

“What are you doing here?”

Whipping around, I nearly trip over my own damn feet to face the person now standing in the open doorway watching us with unchecked suspicion in her narrowed eyes.

Recognition for the woman hits me instantly as memories of our time shared as pups crawl out of the depths of my subconscious.

Hair, still a distinct shade of copper and styled to perfection, falls in curls around her shoulders, and a pointy chin paired with strong cheekbones define her sharp diamond-shaped face. She was always taller than me, but her frame has now taken on a willowy form that is common in beta females like her.

“Talis…” Her name comes to me as easily as the memories of her did.

Talis McNamara. Only daughter to the Alpha of the McNamara Pack, a pack based out of southern British Columbia who has long been allies with the Fallamhains. Talis’s father, Cathal, would bring his daughter with him when he’d have alliance meetings with Merritt. Since I was a girl and around the same age as Talis, I was forced to become her de facto tour guide and friend for the duration of their stay. Which was once two torturously long weeks during a summer break. She was never an easy or pleasant individual to be around, something I’d blamed on her father for endlessly spoiling and coddling her.

It's good for personal growth to be humbled occasionally by your parents, something that you don’t understand in your youth, but as an adult, you can look back on and see the benefits of.

My own mother had a way of absolutely handing me my ass when she needed to. She was a generous and truly selfless person, but shit, Thalassa took no prisoners. I witnessed many men get put in their place by her and it was glorious . Now, more than ever, I’m thankful for her correction and guidance, no matter how hard some of it was to swallow at the time. Nobody quite says, “You’re a fucking idiot, kid,” like a parent. They humble and then they correct you so you don’t make the same mistakes twice. I’m not an authority on the matter, but I’m pretty sure that’s what you call good parenting.

“What are you doing here?” she repeats, voice rising an octave.

It’s only when I take a half step forward that I finally notice the way her dark eyes are wide, and her desert sun-kissed skin is ashen.

The look of utter horror. That’s the only way I can describe the expression contorting the beta female’s features.

Or it’s as if she’s seen a ghost when she glares back at me.

We hadn’t been best friends by any means, but we hadn’t ended on some kind of teenage drama-fueled bad note either. The last time I saw her was the summer of her eighteenth birthday when she presented as a beta. I was two years younger than her and eager to hear firsthand what it was like to come into your wolf. My excitement for her was met with irritation and open hostility over the whole thing. For the rest of her visit that summer, she’d sulked and bit the head off anyone who dared to ask her about her first shift. I remember leaving my post as her cruise director and taking off to the creek to hang out with another friend instead of dealing with that temperamental bullshit. That night when I’d returned home, Mom had let me know the McNamaras had left the territory. For the next two years while we still lived here, Talis never visited again.

Completely thrown by what could have been a very nostalgic interaction, I shake my head and move back to lean against the railing.

“I have an appointment with Alpha Fallamhain.” I don’t see any reason why I should need to explain further. Casual childhood acquaintance or not, she isn’t owed more than that.

But I guess she doesn’t see it this way because she instantly demands more information.

“About what?”

It’s not in my nature to be confrontational. It’s ingrained in my very bones to crave peace, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned through my clandestine work, it’s how to hold my ground on the rare occasions I need to.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” I say with a casual shrug of my shoulders, my gaze simultaneously raking over the inhospitable woman behind my sunglasses.

The warning snarl that rips through her strawberry-red-painted lips has my spine stiffening and my wolf bristling behind her glass cage walls.

“Talis…” Canaan warns, standing straighter at my right. His voice holds an edge of authority I’ve yet to feel radiate from him. Then again, he’s the second-in-command of one of the most notable packs in the States. He didn’t earn that title by being a passive alpha. No, I think I’ve just discovered Canaan Roarke is just exceptionally good at hiding the true degree of his dominance.

The holier-than-thou expression that brightens Talis’s face grates on my raw nerves.

“I’m betrothed to the Alpha—have been for months.”

It takes everything in me to not reach up and check the status of my jaw because I could have sworn I just felt it hit the decking below my feet. What. The. Fuck? “You’re going to bond with Merritt?”

“ Merritt ?” both Talis and Canaan repeat, each sounding equally appalled.

Suddenly feeling unsure of how up-to-date my information is, I shift restlessly on my feet and ask, “He’s the Alpha, isn’t he?”

If I thought my wolf was throwing a fit before, it’s like a bomb goes off inside of my soul. I’ve barely had a moment to question what set her off when a rich, smoky voice not only cuts through but also completely silences the panicked howls echoing in my eardrums.

“Merritt is dead. I’m the Alpha of this pack now.”

For all of two seconds, I don’t recognize the man who has silently sneaked up the deck stairs to our left, but just as his intoxicating scent whips through the air, filling my insides and wrapping around my animal half, it finally clicks.

The scent that had made my very world tilt belongs to him .

Rennick Fallamhain.

Merritt’s heir and, apparently, the new pack Alpha.

The very Alpha my meeting is with.

Shit.