Page 30 of Primal (The Prey Drive #1)
Chapter 29
Noa
I surface from sleep slowly, like swimming up from the depths of somewhere safe and warm. My body’s heavy, but not in the way it has been lately. Not in that bone-deep ache I’ve gotten used to greeting the day with. For once, there’s no fire laced through my joints. No weight pressing on my ribs. No cruel echo of what’s missing.
It’s just…quiet.
I roll onto my back and stretch, wincing in anticipation of the familiar spike of pain in my spine. But it doesn’t come. My fingers curl against the softness of my comforter, my legs extend beneath the tangle of blankets, and still…nothing. No agony. No dull roar of misery already settled in for the day
My sleepy brain lingers on the dream, not wanting to fully join the land of the living because of it. It wants to cling to it a little bit longer.
It wasn’t like the one I had of my mom, the one I know now was something she wove into my subconscious—strategically and deliberately planted. No, this one was new, but just as vivid. Every detail etched into my mind like it’s something I lived, not just imagined. I can still feel it, even now.
The black-and-gray wolf with those pale, ghost-like eyes. The weight of him curled around me. His warmth pressing into my body, bleeding into the cold places I didn’t think I could ever reach again. I remember how my fingers moved through his fur like I’d done it a hundred times before. I remember the way my chest stopped aching for a little while.
I’d felt like…me.
Whole .
And I still feel that way, even now as I slowly release my hold on unconsciousness. Which is more alarming than anything.
Curious, maybe even a little wary, I reach inward—toward the wolf bound inside me. I expect to find her withdrawn and listless, just as she has been. She’s quiet, still, but not in the mournful way I’ve grown used to. I find her just…calm.
It makes no sense. Not after everything. Not with how sick I’ve been. My eyes snap open before the confusion can fester any further.
I’m in my room. Which is expected and somehow completely not, because I don’t remember coming back inside. The last thing I recall is wrapping myself in layers—his hoodie included—dragging two heavy blankets downstairs, and slipping out into the backyard. The cold had felt like a balm then, the only thing that matched the numbness inside me. I remember lying on the outdoor lounge chair beneath the heavy sky, letting the quiet settle in. Letting it all go.
And then…
The wolf had come. Not just any wolf. Him.
Rennick.
It comes back all at once. The way he stood there, unmoving, like he was waiting for permission to exist near me. The press of his body as he curled around mine. That low, impossible purr. My fingers in his fur, his heat soaking into my frozen bones and filling the aching void within my chest.
I sit up fast, air rushing into my lungs like I’ve been underwater.
That wasn’t just a dream.
He was here.
Inside me, my wolf is still basking in him. She’s thrilled, as if everything is right again just because he showed up. But I can’t follow her into that feeling. I can’t forget the truth. Rennick didn’t choose me. He chose the alliance. He made his sacrifice. And I was it.
So what’s changed?
I scrub a hand through my hair, my breath hitching in my throat. The question twists and knots until a soft noise breaks through them. A shift, a breath, the creak of a chair. Something alive in the stillness.
I’m not alone.
My gaze swings toward the window.
And there he is.
Rennick Fallamhain, slouched in the cream boucle chair that looks like it might give out under the weight of him. He’s too big for it, muscular arms awkwardly folded across him, head dipped toward his chest like he tried to stay awake but lost the battle. He’s out cold. In my room.
I stare for too long, heart thudding against my ribs, caught between two truths. My wolf who wants to crawl into his lap and never leave, like that is where she lives now, and the part of me who can still remember what it felt like when the bond was forcibly ripped from me.
He doesn’t belong in that chair. He doesn’t belong here .
But Goddess help me, something about him feels like he does. And that’s the part I don’t know what to do with.
I give myself one more minute, maybe two, sitting there with the sheets gathered around me, eyes locked on him. He’s so still, so unguarded, and I want to absorb every detail before he wakes. Like if I look long enough, I’ll be granted some kind of access, a small detail, that he keeps hidden from everyone else. Part of me hopes that it’ll be something that’ll make me understand him better.
His face doesn’t soften in sleep the way most people’s do. His brow stays furrowed, mouth drawn like he’s still thinking, still worrying. Like even in unconsciousness, the burden doesn’t leave the weight of everything he bears as Alpha still pressing down on him.
My gaze drifts lower, greedy in a way I’m not proud of, but too invested now to stop it.
His chest is bare, the golden tan of his skin highlighted by the mid-morning light streaming in through my windows. Every strong and sculpted line of his toro is on display, his abs are defined, pecs rising with every slow and steady breath. Shame nips at the edges of my thoughts for letting my gaze roam the way it has. But another part of me—my wolf, I think—is delighted that we are getting this chance to drink him in like he’s still ours.
My attention on the waistband of his sweatpants. They’re the familiar gray ones we keep stocked in different sizes for new omega arrivals. They’re not meant to accommodate an alpha’s size and stretch over his thick thighs and ride up at the ankles.
A quiet huff slips out, part breath, part laugh. This has to be Seren’s doing, how else would he have gotten into the cellar to get them? I can almost picture her tossing the sweats at him with some kind of muttered threat and a glower. The image is strangely comforting.
In the stillness of this moment, my wolf remains utterly relaxed.
There’s no tension coiled under my skin like there usually is when I’m around males, no prickle of distrust or flicker of warning. Just contentment. And I know why.
She’s waited for him. All these years, she’s remained loyal to a fault to the man I hardly remembered. She held the line for him, sometimes with teeth, with instinct I didn’t understand. I should’ve given her more credit. Instead I thought she was just crazy, all the while she knew her mate was out there. She protected his place, even when I didn’t know he had one.
Driven by something I don’t bother naming—a pull too strong to resist—I slip out from under the covers. The air bites at my skin but compared to the chill I’ve been carrying for days, it almost feels warm. My limbs move easily, no aching joints or trembling muscles slowing me down. The usual pain isn’t there. Like it’s been cast away by his mere presence.
I notice the green hoodie is gone from my body, leaving me in the black tank top and leggings I’d worn under all the layers last night. But my heart stutters when I spot it draped over the pillow I’d curled around in my sleep. Like he wanted me surrounded by him while I rested. It hits me in a quiet, instinctive way. He didn’t just leave the hoodie. He laid the first piece of my nest, and my omega side preens at the offering.
My heart aches at the thought, a quiet pain that feels too close to hope, but I push it away for now, wanting to bask in the lack of soul-crushing ache for as long as I can.
I cross the room on bare feet, slow and quiet, and stop when I reach him. The hardwood is cool beneath me, but I barely register it. The closer I get, the more his scent fills the space around me—deep and rich, grounding in a way I forgot I could feel. It blends with mine, the sweetness of it clinging to my skin like something alive. I shouldn’t find comfort in that. But I do.
It’s strange, standing here like this. A reversal of last night, when he stood before me in his wolf form and waited for something I didn’t have the courage to offer. Now I’m the one just…watching. Unsure.
I tell myself I’m not looking for anything. But my eyes still roam his form.
And then I see them.
The scars.
Four raised lines, starting at the edge of his brow and cutting back into his hair. I’ve noticed them before, but never like this. Now I have time to really look at them. With nothing between us but air and silence. They pull my focus, more than his bare chest, more than the tight fit of those borrowed sweatpants.
I stare, something twisting in my chest I can’t quite name.
Because I know what it takes for a dominant Alpha like him to still bear scars that have refused to fade with the passing of time. I know who had to be the one to inflict the pain for them to stay as they have.
Of their own volition, my fingers trail each of the four silver lines. They’ve barely reached where the scars end above his ear when Rennick’s eyes snap open.
They’re wild, unfocused. Flickering between recognition and reflex.
I part my lips to say his name, to warn him it’s just me, but I don’t get the chance.
In a blur of motion he’s on his feet, his hands hooking around my arms. The next thing I know, my back hits the wall, firm but not punishing. Air huffs from my lungs at the sudden impact, my heart thundering against my ribs.
His eyes flash, caught somewhere between man and wolf, the color flicking between gray and pale silver blue. The snarl carved into his face falters as recognition slams into him. I see the exact second it hits him, when he really sees me, and the shift is instant. Recognition knocks the fight out of him, and horror sweeps in to take its place.
“Noa,” he breathes, voice like gravel. Wrecked. His hands loosen their hold, but don’t let me go. They slide down my arms in a desperate attempt to soothe, to comfort, to check for damage. Like he needs to feel for himself that I’m still whole.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” I whisper, words rasping from my throat. “I should’ve known better than to approach a sleeping wolf.”
“Shit, Noa,” he breathes, shaking his head. “Are you— Did I hurt you?”
I shake my head, though my breath is still uneven. His warm fingers and palms continue to graze the bare skin of my arms. Steady and grounding, “I’m fine,” I add, voice more even. “You didn’t hurt me.”
His gaze crumples at that, like the words land wrong in his soul.
“That’s not true,” he chokes out. “I have hurt you.”
My lip press together. I can’t lie to him, not when we both know the painful truth. “Yeah… You have.”
Rennick’s gaze searches mine, slow and careful, like he’s looking for something he’s scared to find. His hand lifts, fingers brushing at the mess of hair hanging in my face. It’s a losing battle—my bangs have a mind of their own—but he tries anyway, pushing them gently to the side. They fall right back into place. He doesn’t try again. Just lets his hand hover there near my temple, his thumb grazing the edge of my cheek like it’s second nature.
I part my lips to say something, what, I’m not even sure. Maybe to ask what he’s doing. Why he’s here. But he beats me to it.
“The fact that I made myself believe I could live without you, sweet Noa…” He breathes the words and they hit me with more force than I’m prepared for. I see the flicker of misery cross his face. “That I told myself I had to—because it was right, or honorable, or whatever fucking lie I clung to—none of it makes up for what I’ve done.”
Sweet Noa.
He called me that in the clearing, when his plea for forgiveness rang through me like a broken prayer. I hated it then. But now—reverent and rough on his tongue—it hits different. Like it costs him something. Like I’m still worth saying it to.
“You won’t believe me yet,” he says, voice steadying even as his eyes stay raw. “And that’s okay. I’ll keep saying it until you do. I’m going to make this right. I’m going to repair the bond. The damage. All of it.”
My heart stutters. Something inside me goes completely still, like the world just tilted slightly off its axis.
Because he said it. Out loud.
He wants to fix it.
The way Seren had begged me to tell Rennick that his bite could do more than just fix it, but could save me, echoes between my ears as if she’s standing next to me shouting it in real time. The piece of me that wants to live, wants to believe that his words are true, mirrors her sentiment instantly. My wolf plants herself firmly in that camp too, fully convinced our mate would catch us if we fell. Guess all it took was a little quality time with his wolf to change her tune.
I can’t decide if I’m envious, or just annoyed by how quickly she’s let go.
But it’s the part of me that shattered in that clearing that wins out. The fear that he’ll eventually learn the truth—that he’s the key to my survival now—and could still choose to walk away. That’s what keeps me from leaning into the promise in his words. I’d rather meet the end on my own terms, with a little dignity, than watch him not chose me a second time. That would destroy what’s left of my fractured soul.
Rennick’s expression tightens, no doubt sensing the storm of anxiety twisting inside me. “You don’t trust me and I’ve earned that. I haven’t given you a single reason to believe in me, but I need you to know I meant every word.” He takes a breath, jaw working. “I’m going to find a way to protect my pack, to keep my omegas safe without McNamara or his…” He stops short, gaze flicking away for a beat like he refuses to say her name in front of me. I’m grateful for that. It feels like a line he won’t cross. A small mercy. “We’re working on another way,” he goes on, voice low but steady. “But even if I can’t pull that off—even if I fail there—I won’t fail at this. At us. Fixing what I broke with you is the only thing I’m certain about. You’re my priority now, Noa. Nothing comes before that. Not anymore.”
Something in me shifts, quiet and unwelcome, but it’s there nonetheless. Not forgiveness, not even close, but a softening that slithers through the cracks he left behind. Because the way he’s standing here now, the way he’s speaking with this quiet, careful intensity, doesn’t feel like a performance. It feels real. His chest is inches from mine, radiating heat I shouldn’t crave, and his chin dips low in that way that says he’s trying to reach me—even though we both know it will be near impossible to bridge the distance he created.
And it’s the little part of me that will never stop wanting him, broken bond or not, that has me wondering if just for a moment, I could give in. Just to have a single taste of what could have been. What could have been mine.
It’s probably the dumbest thing I could do. Even if he says they’re working on another solution, the truth is he’s still promised to someone else. He still isn’t mine.
And he’s right, I don’t trust him. Maybe I never will. But the pain that’s been rotting me from the inside out is quiet in his presence. Just him, standing here, is enough to still the ache and take the cold out of my bones. For the first time in days, I don’t feel like I’m dying. And I want to stay here, just a little longer, in this impossible moment where I don’t feel like I’m falling apart and if I try hard enough, I can pretend this can be more than that.
Just a moment.
So I place my hands against his chest, feeling the steady thud of his heart beneath my palms. I rise up onto my toes, closing the small gap between us, and pull him down to meet me.
And I kiss him like he’s mine.
His lips stay pressed to mine, unmoving, no doubt stunned by the weight of what I’ve just done. I don’t pull away. I don’t breathe. I just wait, caught in the space between hope and regret, to see if he’s going to meet me there.
He remains frozen and I release a sound I don’t mean to. A small, desperate whine crawls up my throat, heedless and unmistakably omega. It betrays everything I’m still too afraid to say. That I want this. Need it. Crave more of his touch, even if I know somewhere in my mind that it can’t go further than this.
It’s my omega nature crying out that breaks him.
His hands come up, cupping my face with a kind of care that shatters me. Not just holding—cradling. Fingers spread across my cheeks like he’s afraid I’ll vanish if he lets go. The first pass of his lips over mine is soft, tentative. Almost like he’s asking if I’m sure.
But then I part my lips and graze my tongue over his bottom lip. And that’s all it takes. He growls, the sound more wolf than man, and I feel it in my bones.
His mouth claims mine fully, no hesitation this time. His body presses harder into mine, pinning me against the wall, and I let it happen. Let the weight of him hold me steady as he devours me like he’s starving. My hands slide from his chest, curling gently around his wrists where he frames my face. It’s not to stop him. It’s to stay connected, to anchor both of us in this kiss.
We’re not smooth. Our movements aren’t rehearsed. This isn’t something we’ve done a hundred times. It’s clumsy, a little desperate, but agonizingly real.
It’s not like I’ve had chances to practice. Not that I ever really wanted them. This was never something I thought I’d need to be good at.
We explore each other for a minute—minutes? What is time at this point?—learning and finding a rhythm that makes my skin start to flush. But then he lets out a frustrated growl that rattles my bones.
Before I can fully register the sound, his hands are gone from my face, only to find a new hold. He bends slightly, gripping behind my thighs, and then I’m lifted. Airborne. In the next breath, my back is against the wall once more and his hard, defined chest is pressed to mine. My legs scramble to wrap around his waist, a little too short to hook fully, but I manage, clinging to him like I have any business deluding myself into thinking I’ll ever be ready to let go.
His mouth leaves mine just long enough to trace a path down the curve of my jaw, then lower, to the overly sensitive stretch of flesh at my throat.
The moment his lips brush the skin over my pulse, right where a mating mark would go, my entire body jerks.
My hips flex on instinct, searching for something with a desperation I’m not sure I’ve ever experienced before.
No, of course I haven’t. This is all new to me. The last guy I let close didn’t get too far past the too wet kiss and grabby hands that had left me snarling at him like a feral animal before I could stop it. I gave up trying after that. That was years ago.
He shifts, pressing harder against me, and I feel it. The evidence of how much he’s also enjoying this stolen moment. Through the thin fabric of my leggings, I can feel how hard he is. His cock pokes me in the ass, the knowledge that I’ve pushed him into this state makes my already lust-drunk brain swim a little bit more.
A sharp, needy cry tears from me, louder than before. I don’t have the wherewithal to be ashamed of it. Not when my body is already giving away how needy I’m feeling. My thighs are shaking. My hips grind against his stomach with a mind of their own. And I can feel it, feel myself getting slick, soaking through the fabric between us. My breath stutters in my throat, worried he’ll notice or care that it’s no doubt transferring onto his skin too.
I know the second he notices, because his growl turns into something darker, something possessive. And I come to the realization that my momentary worry was for nothing because Rennick doesn’t give a shit if the scent of my slick clings to him.
He confirms this when he mutters, “Fuck, you smell so good.” His nose is still buried in the crook of my neck, but we both know what he’s referring to, and it’s not seeping from my throat. “Sweet one…”
My inner omega whines at the praise, already craving more of it. My hips grind harder again his ridged muscles, but it’s still not giving me what I need.
Rennick notices.
He pulls away from the crook of my neck and stares at me, eyes blazing with a fiery intensity that makes my insides melt.
“Tell me what you need.” His words are a gravelly demand but not a bark. “Tell me. Whatever you need from me, it’s yours.”
He leans forward and captures my bottom lip between is teeth. It’s not enough to hurt, but the sting mixes with the pleasure, and I mewl when he licks away the hurt.
My short fingernails covered in chipped nail polish dig into the skin on his shoulders. My hips still rock, my slick, needy pussy still not getting the fiction I’m so painfully eager for. It occurs to me somewhere in the back of my mind that this is another omega characteristic that is awakening within me. Nothing ignites untamable desire in an omega more than being near her alpha. That side of me must not have gotten the memo that he’s not really mine and doesn’t give a shit, because my instincts are going haywire, demanding that I take this further—too far.
But it might be worth the risk, right? If just his mouth moving between my kiss-swollen lips and throat can make me feel this good, then I can’t even begin to imagine the ways he could wreak havoc on my center if I did as he asked of me.
If I admitted what I wanted from him.
He pulls back with a curse, chest heaving, like stopping himself took every morsel of his restraint.
Rennick’s eyes lock on mine, bewildered and intense, as if he’s only just now realizing how far gone he is.
“I’ve never…” he starts, but the words stall, his mouth working around whatever admission is trying to push its way free. There’s a flicker of something uncertain in his expression, a kind of vulnerability that makes my breath catch. “Fuck, Noa, I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you.” His grip tightens on my thighs, like he needs the contact to keep steady. “I haven’t touched anyone else. Didn’t want to. Never cared what their hands would feel like or how their lips might taste. Never thought about what it would be like to have someone under me.” He exhales as his gaze drops to my mouth before rising again. “But you…that’s all I want.”
The weight of his confession hits harder than I expected.
Because he didn’t know. He had no idea I was his. And still, he kept himself from everyone else.
Held space for something he couldn’t name. Just like I did. It makes it harder to keep the ice around my heart intact. Harder to pretend like what we have isn’t real. Something fragile in me softens, starts to melt around the edges. A warning. A feeling I’m not ready for but can’t ignore.
Which is why I’m whispering my plea before I realize I’m doing it.
“Touch me,” I tell him, and when he stares back at me like he’s not sure he trusts my sincerity, I add, “please, Ren, I need you to make me feel good.” And just like that, a flip switches.
His eyes are wild and hungry, and before I can take another breath, his grip on the underside of my thighs tightens.
Then we’re moving.
He spins us away from the wall with a fluid, almost brutal elegance. My back hits the mattress a second later, the soft thud making me oomph . I barely register the shift in position before I’m staring up at him. He looks wild, wrecked in the most beautiful way, and he’s looking at me like I’m the only thing that matters.
I don’t get to admire my new view for long because his hands are already on me again. Fingers hook, tug, and the soaked leggings—drenched with the indisputable proof of my need for him—are gone before I can blink.
I arch to help, nerves sparking everywhere.
The cool air hits my thighs first, then higher, and I can feel the heat rising in my face, in my chest. The flush of slight embarrassment only grows warmer when Rennick’s gaze rakes down my body, slow and intense, until it lands where I’m slick with want.
His breath hitches, just slightly, but I hear it. See the awe flicker across his face, softening the hunger that sharpens his features.
He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t need to.
His fingers skim up the length of my calf, a light, reverent touch that leaves a trail of warmth in its wake. My skin prickles, but not from the cold. From him. From the weight of his attention.
His bare chest expands with a deep, shuddering inhale, and I know without question that he’s breathing me in. My scent, my arousal, all of it. The alpha in him responding to the sight of his destined omega laid out naked like an offering for the first time.
His nostrils flare slightly, jaw tense, and something primal flickers in his expression.
I shift, instinct trying to tug my knees back together, but he refuses to allow me to hide from him. His hand finds my thigh, warm and steady, holding me open.
When his eyes lift back to mine, there's nothing mocking in them. Nothing smug, just that same look of awe, like I’m something he never thought he’d get to see. And that should terrify me, how vulnerable I am under his stare. But it doesn’t.
Because the only thing I feel in this moment is wanted. Claimed. And maybe…safe.
And that’s more terrifying than anything.
It’s a fear I don’t get the chance to explore because Rennick lowers himself between my thighs, his hands braced on either one to keep me open for him. When his mouth finally meets my pussy, the first stroke of his tongue slow and testing, I nearly come off the bed.
My hands fly to the sheets like they can anchor me, and I fist them as a noise slips out of me.
A mixture of a whine and a whimper.
It’s like ringing the fucking dinner bell for him.
His answering groan is low and guttural, vibrating against my slick, sensitive flesh. The sound is appreciative mixed with unfiltered hunger, and it tells me this isn’t just for me. He wants this. Want to taste me.
My thighs, stiff and instinctively trying to block him out, fall open the rest of the way. All pretense of modesty or hesitation dissolves as his hands slide to my hips, holding me steady as he begins to devour me.
He starts slow. Deliberate. Exploratory like he’s savoring every part of me, mapping me with his mouth, one stroke of his tongue at a time. Each pass is intentional, like he’s committing every reaction to memory.And maybe he is. Maybe this is him learning what makes me come undone.
But it doesn’t stay careful.
Whatever restraint he had at the start unravels quickly. His, and mine. He licks and sometimes bites, scraping his teeth across my clit in a way that makes me believe angels exist. I can’t hold still. My hips jerk, seeking more friction, more pressure. More . I arch into him, a mess of heavy breathing and heated need. And when his thick finger circles my opening, dipping barely inside before retreating, I pry my eyes open and look down to find him already looking up at me from under his thick lashes. His irises look like liquid metal as he holds the eye contact and pushes his finger inside, my body adjusting to the intrusion like a fucking duck to water, and before soon, I’m begging him for more. For more of that delicious stretch. The feeling of fullness. In the back of my mind, my omega taunts that it won’t feel like enough, that only a knot can really fill that void, but I shove it away, wanting to enjoy this.
There’s only one thing I can say. One name that keeps slipping from my mouth.
“Ren…”
I’m close.
It builds low in my belly, a pressure that climbs steadily, spreading through my limbs like licks of flames. My thighs tremor, hips tilting to meet the pulse of his mouth, the movement of his fingers. The warmth grows until it’s everywhere—unrelenting, consuming—and then I let go.
And I fall.
The orgasm tears through me, his name once again ripped from my throat. It’s the only thing I can cling to while my body seizes with blinding pleasure. But he doesn’t stop. Not when I start to quiver, not when my nails claw for something to hold, slashing at his shoulders and scalp. His mouth stays on me, fingers moving in perfect rhythm, coaxing every aftershock until my body begins to unravel. Until I’m limp.
It’s only when start to lethargically mewl in protest from the oversensitivity that he slows. His touch gentles, guiding me down with tender care.
I’m still reeling, breath coming in shallow pulls, when I hear his curse—guttural and strained. Then his teeth sink into the skin where my thigh meets my hip, a sharp nip that doesn’t break skin but is like gasoline to my immerging instinct’s fire.
I jolt, not in pain but in something that’s treacherously close to need. My omega howls for more. For permanence. For the mark. I want it. I want to wear it like a badge. I shove the thought down, try to ignore the way my body arches toward the bite, already missing it when his mouth pulls back.
That’s when I hear it.
A voice that isn’t mine in my head.
“My mate. My omega. My sweet Noa.”
I lift my heavy head, chest still heaving, and meet his eyes.
He’s staring at me, gaze molten. His lips are wet, slick with me, and his tongue flicks out, licking the corner of his mouth like he refuses to waste a drop. The sight makes heat pulse between my legs again, like I’m already craving more. Still not done.
Oh, Goddess, he’s created a monster.
He rises slowly, standing tall at the edge of the bed. The front of his borrowed sweats is dark. A wet spot. The way he’d groaned before pressing his teeth against my flesh floats back to me. Rennick Fallamhain, great pack Alpha, came in his pants. It’s almost endearing, and it makes my core throb with…is that jealousy?
He leans forward, fists braced on either side of my head, his heated torso pressed to mine.
Then he kisses me.
There’s no hesitation. His mouth claims mine, and when his tongue slides past my lips, it carries my own taste. My arousal. It’s filthy. Intimate. Possessive in a way that makes my stomach flip and inner omega prance.
When he pulls back, his voice is low and affectionate, but edged with dominance, like he’s a man who’s just gotten a taste of something he’s not ready walk away from. “See how sweet you are?” he breathes.
My heart stutters.
He doesn’t move right away. Just looks down at me, his expression tempering, concern flickering through the lingering heat. He’s watching me too closely, like he knows the regret won’t stay gone for long.
I’m not naive enough to not think it won’t hit me soon. I went into this knowing I’d be racked with regret when it was over. Selfishly, I just didn’t care. I just wanted to pretend for a little while that he was mine and I was his, and there wasn’t this gaping rift between us. Caused by him .
“Are you okay?” he asks, the question barely louder than a rasp.
The genuine concern in his face and voice battles against the walls I’m trying to rebuild between us. Blocking out the longing I still have for him.
I nod, slow and silent.
It’s written all over his face. I know he wants to say something else, or ask a painfully stupid question like, What does this mean now? as if anything has really changed between us because we crossed this line. It was a line that led to a soul-shattering orgasm, but a line nonetheless.
Whatever lust-filled bubble we’ve slipped into is popped by the sound of commotion on the stairs leading to my attic bedroom. I react faster than he does, my hand flat against his chest, shoving him back so I can crawl out from under him. I push myself up and over the bed, scrambling across it and sliding off the opposite side with none of the grace I wish I had.
“Nick?” a voice calls out from the other side of my door, exasperated and all too familiar. “Would’ve texted to let you know we were here, but couldn’t. Since your dumb furry ass decided to run across state lines with nothing but your hopes and dreams and didn’t give us a heads-up. That was a very dramatic exit, by the way—you went through a window and everything—but next time, please drive . And bring a damn phone, will you?”
Rhosyn.
And she said we . Which means Canaan is no doubt with her.
I glance at Rennick in silent question.
“I asked Seren to text them,” he mutters, sheepish. “Didn’t think you’d be up for driving me back.”
My brows lift, but then it clicks. Of course his only means of getting back to Idaho was either a very expensive Uber or to run back in wolf form, and I don’t see the latter happening so soon after he already did it.
Rhosyn doesn’t miss a beat, thanks to her shifter hearing. “Yeah, this wasn’t really how I wanted to spend my morning either, dude. I like Ashvale. I love Noa. But I left yesterday. A more forgiving turnaround time would be appreciated in the future.” She pauses. “You’re lucky this just ended up working in my favor.”
Neither of us knows what she means, and we don’t ask.
Rennick closes his eyes and drags a hand down his face like he’s holding back a growl—or maybe just a breakdown. Honestly, same.
“We’ll be downstairs in a minute,” he calls back, sighing through the words.
Her retreating steps are the cue I didn’t know I was waiting for. I spring into action, painfully aware I’m still not wearing pants, and his gaze is definitely lingering. I make it to my closet and yank the top drawer open, tugging on the first pair of sleep shorts I find.
When I turn back around, he’s still there. Watching. Not in the heated, hungry way he had earlier, but steady. Like he sees through the walls I’m scrambling to rebuild.
“Noa…” he starts.
I shake my head. “It was nice,” I say softly, forcing a sad smile. “Pretending for a minute that things aren’t broken between us. That I’m not—” I gesture to myself, starting at my chest that is deceptively not an aching pit right now. It’s because of him. His presence. It’s fueling me and masking the soul-deep ache, but know when he leaves, it will all return. “That I’m not damaged.”
His face falls.
“I know about the rejected mate syndrome.” His admission makes me freeze in place, turning into an ice sculpture of dread. “Rhosyn told me. That’s what made me lose control. What made my wolf take over and hunt you down. When I told you I was going to fix everything, Noa, I was including that.”
“Do you know how to fix it?” I force the words past the tightness in my throat, my chest too full of dread. Because if he says yes, if he’s known all along that his bite could save me, then maybe him coming here isn’t about wanting me back, like he said. Maybe it’s just guilt. Just duty. An obligation.
“No. Not yet.” His voice doesn’t waver, his determination clear. “But I’m going to find out. Because I won’t let you keep paying the price for my mistake.”
I stare at him, and my wolf lets out a soft, mournful whimper inside me. She wants to believe him. Needs to. But I don’t know how.
“That won’t fix the trust, Ren,” I whisper, my eyes threatening tears. It’s a fight to will them away. “It won’t undo what you’ve already done. It won’t stop me from thinking you’ll hurt me again—worse than before. And if that happens… I won’t survive it this time.”
It’s the truth, just without the nitty-gritty details.
He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t argue.
“I know.” He steps around the bed and tries to close the distance between us. My wolf is ecstatic, not appreciating that I’d put space between us soon after we’d let him… do what he did. “And I get that words aren’t enough. I can say I’m sorry until it doesn’t mean anything anymore, and I will. Every day. For the rest of my life if you’ll let me. But more than that, I’m going to show you. Prove it with actions, because words will only get me so far. I failed you once by not choosing you. But I’m choosing you now, Noa. Every day, every hour, for as long as you’ll let me.”
I want to scoff. Want to laugh or cry or fall into him all over again. But I don’t move. Don’t say anything. Because this feels like a turning point. And I don’t know which way it’s going to take me.
“We were meant for each other,” he murmurs, voice low and hoarse, hand raised toward me in offering, but I can’t bring myself to accept it. “I denied it, fought it. But it’s so fucking obvious. Fuck, baby, I’ve been dreaming about you for months. You were always there—your voice, your eyes. Telling me it was time to remember. I even dreamt of us being in this very room.” His gaze sweeps the space like it’s hallowed. “You were standing right there, begging me to choose you. I didn’t. And I’ll regret it forever. But I’m going to fix it. I will.”
The knot in my chest tightens. Because if he’s been dreaming too—if my mother wove messages into his subconscious the same way she did mine—then she really went out of her way to ensure I’d find my way back to him.
She wanted me with him. But in all her wisdom and weaving, did she know that he was going to be the one to break me? It hurts to believe she’d known this was my fate, and still left her meddling spells to push us toward each other.
She had to have a good reason , the trusting—maybe to a fault—piece of me whispers.
Before I can get lost in that, I shake my head and try to pull myself back from the edge.
“I can’t do this with you right now, Ren. Not when you’re still betrothed to someone else.”
My eyes flick to the bed—the one we just tangled ourselves across like it meant something. Like it could be the start of something for us. “Technically, you cheated on your intended with me.”
His snarl is instant, ripping through the air with such violence it has me recoiling half a step.
“That’s bullshit. Talis?—”
My wolf whines at the name, a visceral response I can’t control. The pitiful sound is past my lips before I can even attempt to stop it, and it makes him wince.
“She means nothing to me. She never did.”
“But you need her,” I remind him, the crushing knowledge that there are more lives on the line than just mine. Not just any lives. Omegas. Omegas just like Siggy. He said he was going to put me before all of that, but that doesn’t seem fair. None of it is fair, Noa. “You need the alliance with her father.”
“I need you more,” he breathes.
And Goddess help me…I want to believe him.
More emotionally wrecked than I’d like to admit, my eyes flutter closed and I breathe for a second. Knowing that I’m past the point of being able to look at this logically and afraid of reacting out of emotion or, worse, my needy omega instincts, I gather all the resolve I can muster before returning my gaze to him.
“Canaan and Rhosyn are waiting for you downstairs.” Wordlessly, I grab the green hoodie that has become an unofficial token of our half-broken bond, and the first item collected for my nonexistent nest. It actually hurts to pull it free of the pillows and bedding, going against every omega instinct I have to give up the precious item. His face falls when I hand it to him. “You need something to wear home.”
“I thought you might want to keep it?” He looks genuinely devastated to ask this. “That you’d want it for your…”
I cut him off, feeling like an ass when I do. “It’s just a hoodie, Ren. I’ve got plenty. But thank you for letting me borrow it.” My eyes flick to the dark spot at the front of his pants. “I’ll go see if I can find you another pair of sweats while you wash up.”
I turn away before I can be sure, but I swear to the Goddess, I think Rennick blushed.
It’d find it cute if I wasn’t aching again.