Page 6 of Primal (The Prey Drive #1)
Chapter 5
Noa
W hen Seren first found her way to us, she was newly pregnant with Ivey, which meant for many months our idea of a wild girls’ night was mocktails and pints of ice cream. Don’t think for a second I’m complaining because I’m an unapologetic slut for the mint cookies and cream flavor. A month after Seren popped Ivey out—which, by the way, made her a certifiable badass in my book because, holy shit, childbirth is not for the faint of heart—Edie volunteered to watch the baby for a night. We didn’t end up going far. Locked away in the haven that is my renovated attic bedroom, Seren and I sat on the floor, yapping our little hearts out while we passed a bottle of huckleberry moonshine back and forth. Eldrith, the unofficial leader of the coven’s elders, warned us that her home brew packed a punch, but never in my entire life have I felt more violently ill than I did the next morning when Seren and I woke up. Still on the floor, we fought for our lives for hours, unable to function until we managed to force carbs and electrolytes down our throats.
I don’t care what new concoctions Eldrith has brewed, because since that night, I’ve turned down every one of that crazy old bat’s offers for another bottle. If I ever drink another sip of her backyard hootch, I’m pretty sure I will keel over and die. My poor liver would give up on the spot, still traumatized from our last battle with the berry-flavored poison.
Now, staring up at this unfamiliar ceiling with the headache from hell and my body aching like it got hit by a big yellow school bus, I feel a lot like I did after the moonshine incident. And much like that memorable experience, if someone doesn’t get me to a toilet or provide me with a bucket, I’m going to throw up somewhere no one is going to appreciate.
Heaving into a sitting position so fast I’m pretty sure my throbbing brain does a fucking summersault in my skull, I slam a hand over my mouth to desperately hold back the unpleasantness trying to make its untimely escape. I don’t have the ability to breathe, let alone plead for a bucket—I’d even take a used coffee cup as I’m not feeling particularly picky at this point in time—but it turns out I don’t have to beg for anything because, miraculously, as if summoned out of thin air, a large plastic bowl is shoved under my chin.
Just in time too.
“Ha! I told you the bowl was a good idea,” the lighthearted, teasing voice barely registers to my buzzing ears. “Did you see how pale she was? There was no way in hell she wasn’t tossing her cookies.”
There’s an unimpressed scoff. “Would you like a cookie for being correct, Rhosyn?” an older, more raspy-sounding voice deadpans.
In a thoroughly undignified display, I continue to dry heave into the offered vessel long after my stomach’s contents have been rudely evacuated.
“Oh, I think I’m going to pass on having a sweet treat for a bit,” she— Rhosyn —responds, the grimace clear in her tone. “I’m suddenly not feeling very snacky.”
“I can’t begin to imagine why.”
Forcing my hazy vision to focus on more than the bowl in front of my face, I quickly glance at the two women I’ve woken up to.
It’s nice to put a face to the name. Rhosyn is around my age if not a couple years older. Her oval-shaped face is pale and sprinkled with freckles. The sympathetic and understanding glint in her kind olive eyes helps put me at ease in this incredibly uncomfortable situation I’ve found myself in. Her aura, though I can't actually see it since no wolf means no access to any gifts I might have inherited from my charmer bloodline, feels warm. The air around her is nothing but inviting. The beta female is also drop-dead gorgeous with her perfect curls and willowy frame. It’s no wonder Canaan is completely gone for her.
The other woman, the blasé-sounding one, is around sixty I’m guessing. I’m not sure if it’s the current state of my brain or just my blurry vision, but for about five whole seconds, I swear I’m looking at my mother. A couple rapid blinks clear up that delusion real fast, but it’s still a kick to my heart nonetheless. Upon further inspection, I decide the dark hair with strands of silver growing in around her face and the familiar air of medicinal herbs clinging to her clothes are where their similarities end. My mourning—and frazzled—mind simply conjured up a comforting image for me in my moment of distress. Which was rude of it, if you ask me.
“I’m so sorry,” I manage to get out. My throat is tight, making me sound hoarser than hell.
Rhosyn waves me off with a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders. “Please, I went to a party school. This is not my first rodeo. Speaking of…” She dips her head toward the basin she’s still holding for me, her mess of fawn-colored curls bouncing with the slight movement. “You got anything left in there, or do you think you’re done?”
With a quick check-in with my gag reflex and my turning stomach, I come to the decision I’m done whether my body is or not. You will not throw up again in front of these people. Mind or matter, or whatever, Noa.
“I’m good.”
“Thank the Goddess,” Rhosyn praises, standing from the coffee table she’s perched on across from the couch I’ve been placed upon. A couch I have no recollection of being moved to.
Like piecing together a jumbled puzzle, I frantically try to get the fragmented memories swirling about my mind in order while Rhosyn steps out of the room.
The last thing I remember is standing on the deck with Canaan and Talis. No, wait, that’s not right. They left and I was alone with…him.
Rennick.
I’d told him about Mom’s wishes and then the shit had hit the literal fan.
But, if I’m being honest, things were already falling apart way before our grand and somewhat dramatic finale. You know, the part where I lost consciousness. Turns out, doing your best impression of a fainting goat is a surefire way to get out of any awkward or intense situation. Use this knowledge responsibly, friends.
I thought my uncharacteristic reaction to Rennick’s scent was intense when I first stepped foot in his house, but the way every atom of my makeup seemed to respond to his towering, dominant presence put my earlier fit to shame. It was by sheer will alone and a couple desperate prayers to the Goddess that I was able to ignore the absolutely unhinged desires of my caged wolf. If that bitch had it her way, I would have marched right over to the too-handsome-for-his-own-good Alpha and rubbed my body all over him until he was thoroughly marked with my scent.
Scent marking? Yeah, that’s a new one for me.
Never, in my nearly twenty-six years of life, have I had that kind of visceral and needy reaction to another person. Especially not to one who owns a penis. Historically, my wolf doesn’t want me within sniffing distance of a male, and yet, she was acting as if her life was going to end if I didn’t do what she was insisting of me. His addictive scent had both of us in a vice-like grip and, of course, I’d accidentally selected the patio chair that was soaked in mint and leather. Stopping myself from burrowing deeper into those cushions was a true testament of my willpower.
I deserve one hell of an award for being able to keep my shit together and my inner turmoil under wraps through almost the entirety of my reintroduction with Rennick Fallamhain. There was a moment there that I truly believed I was going to be able to get through this without giving myself away or making a scene, and then I did something astoundingly stupid.
I touched him.
My palms were pressed to his heaving chest before I comprehended that I’d moved to stand before the unraveling alpha male. His pectoral muscles were hot and strong beneath my fingertips, and my wolf half swaggered about her glass cage, pleased as shit she got her way and my hands were finally on him. If I had been capable of focusing on anything else but him at that moment, I may have scolded her, but as if I were under a spell, I succumbed fully to the allure of Rennick.
In that short moment, my hands on his chest, his baseball-mitt-sized hands wrapped tightly, yet somehow still tenderly, around my wrists, I felt a hundred emotions all at once as my psyche begin to crack. At first, it was nothing but a small trickle dripping through the narrow fissures forming, but the longer I stood there, transfixed, the trickles turned into a flood. The chaos unleashed on my mind and system was thunderous, consuming my every thought.
Until a voice cut through the madness.
“Mate. Mate. Mate. Mate. Mate.”
“I—” I choke the singular syllable out but can’t manage to summon anything else. My head snaps up, gaze locking with the woman sitting in the armchair across the room. Dark eyes that appear to hold boundless information and wisdom stare back.
“Gone for almost eight years and you come back with a real bang , don’t you, Noa?” she muses, smoke-lined lips twisting into a smirk. “Can’t say I don’t love to see it. A little excitement keeps things interesting, and I grow easily tired of monotony. Though, I could do without the dreadful screeching coming from that self-important redhead. In the future, if you plan to stir up chaos within our pack, I’d appreciate it if you could do so without the headache-inducing theatrics. The girl’s got a serious set of pipes on her.”
She thinks she has a headache? I’m almost certain an Irish step dancing troupe has been using my skull to rehearse on and, I can’t be sure, but there might be an ice pick embedded in my temple, too. It sure as hell feels that way.
“Chaos?” I repeat, voice still thick. “All I wanted to do was spread my mother’s ashes. I didn’t stir up anything.”
It was Rennick who lost control and made a scene when his wolf nearly shoved through his tanned skin. His human gunmetal gray eyes were swallowed up by the pale bluish silver of his wolf’s. The somewhat ghostly shade was surrounded by a dark limbal ring, which only enhanced the intensity of the predator’s sharp gaze. An innate part of me wanted to look away, to show the Alpha the deference he was owed, but I was transfixed by the animal peering out at me.
The woman, who I’m starting to believe is the pack’s current healer based on her overly strong homeopathic scent and hippie-esque attire that seems to be synonymous with healers, raises a pencil-thin brow. “You don’t think publicly claiming the Alpha of this pack as your mate might ruffle a few feathers? Especially the feathers belonging to that squawking parrot he’s betrothed to?”
Something inside of my chest squeezes. Talis McNamara is promised to Rennick. I can’t wrap my head around how this could have happened.
Ignoring the tightness in my rib cage at the unwanted reminder of this impending union, I frown at the woman. “I didn’t claim anyone as my anything.”
She huffs, sounding utterly unimpressed with me. “The entire pack council was there to witness it, and Yrsa, a friend of mine who’s a member, said you peered up at the Alpha’s face, looking like a lovesick puppy, and very clearly said, ‘Mate’ .”
“It’s true,” Rhosyn murmurs softly, stepping back into the room, the metal and glass French doors clicking closed behind her. I think we’re in a den. The lack of personal items and slightly stale air leads me to believe it’s a space that’s rarely used, which seems like a shame given how inviting the room is. The far wall lined with fully stocked bookcases and the granite fireplace with its crackling fire would have me frequently curling up with a good book if I lived here. “Cane and I heard you say it, too. Along with Talis and her father, Cathal. Nick and my mate are trying to smooth things over right now, but it’s safe to say the McNamaras are pissed. In your defense, that isn’t an entirely unheard of emotion for those two hotheads.”
Against my will or understanding, my muscles tighten at the mention of the Canadian-based pack Alpha. Shoving the reaction down, I stare with unconcealed bewilderment at Canaan’s mate.
“This is ridiculous!” I cry, making the piercing ache in my skull flare. “It was your Alpha who started to lose his shit, and I don’t even know why. All I did was promise never to come back here—which, by the way, is a promise I intend to keep now more than ever—because I know exactly how this pack feels about latent wolves. I was already pushing my luck just by showing up here today, so I thought making it clear to Rennick I’d leave as soon as possible would help my case and put him at ease. Clearly, that backfired because his wolf tried to take control instead.” The deep, guttural growl from his animal half replays in my mind, summoning a fresh wave of goosebumps to dance down my spine. That sound awakened a deep, dormant part of me I had never felt before. “I don’t know what happened. Maybe I panicked or just wanted to help, but I reached out for him. I put my hands on his chest and that’s when I heard…” Mate. Mate. Mate. Mate. Mate. I trail off, realizing how insane I already sound and knowing it will only make things worse if I admit the truth: that I heard a voice that wasn’t my own inside my head. A voice that sounded a hell of a lot like his . “Touching your Alpha was a mistake and wildly out of line. I know that now. Trust me, lesson learned.”
“Latent?”
Out of all the things for Rhosyn to fixate on from my ramblings, she chooses this? I think there are bigger issues at hand right now, like the fact they’re accusing me of claiming their Alpha as my mate, but what do I know?
“It’s not like my status as a shifter is a secret,” I grumble, arms folding across my chest, the move unapologetically defensive. It doesn’t matter how many years pass or how well I’ve come to terms with it, my lack of ability to fully bond with my wolf will always be a sore spot. “I lived here for most of my life. Fresh gossip moves faster than wildfire within the pack.” I nod toward the dark-haired woman, whose name is still a mystery to me. “If my guess is right, you’re the pack’s healer, which makes you my mother’s replacement. I’m sure you were given all the dirty details.”
She examines me, head cocked ever so slightly. “You’re correct. I’m the healer now, and knowledge is power, dear girl, so of course I know the truth of what happened all those years ago.” Beneath her long, obnoxiously patterned skirt, she crosses her legs. “But can you say the same, Noa?”
Well, that’s annoyingly vague.
“I don’t understand?—”
My question is cut off by Rhosyn, because apparently this girl really can’t let the whole latent thing go.
“Noa!” Her tone has taken on an impatient inflection at this point. “What do you mean you were exiled because you are latent?”
Focus dancing between the two women, a scowl pulls on my brows. “I don’t know what else you want me to tell you, Rhosyn,” I shrug stiffly, years of buried shame rearing its ugly head. Discussing my shortcomings with members of the very pack I was exiled from is the last thing I want to. “Merritt refused to allow my weakness to stain his pack’s image. He had a reputation to uphold, you know? He ordered my immediate removal when the disconnect between my wolf and me became evident. I was barely eighteen, technically a legal adult, but Mom wouldn’t let me face the outside world alone. We left that very night, and we didn’t look back. Until now, of course, and look how splendidly that’s working out for me.”
Reliving my past humiliation, combined with still feeling like I was run over—twice—clearly has me in a snarky mood, because this is not how I would normally speak to strangers.
Rhosyn, to my puzzlement, is now doing her best impression of a goldfish with her mouth gaping open and her hooded eyes so wide, I can make out the entirety of her green irises. I’ll be the first to say it, it’s not the pretty beta’s best look.
“Rhosyn—”
“What in the ever-loving name of the Goddess!” she exclaims, only after she’s managed to realign her jaw. “I don’t…” Rhosyn trails off, gaze flicking briefly at the healer across the room. “I’m going to go talk to Nick. Zora, stay here with Noa. I’ll be back once I have fucking answers because someone better be able to explain this to me.”
With a newfound determination and anger, Canaan’s mate charges out of the room, the metal-framed doors slamming behind her.
My wolf, who’s still unbelievably twitchy in her impenetrable jail cell, perks up at this, nudging me to follow Rhosyn. She wants to see Rennick again and has been pleading with me since the moment I stopped dry heaving and could once again form a coherent thought. It’s not something I like to do since we’re already painfully disconnected, and I’m not overly optimistic it will work since all my attempts at doing so today have already failed, but with every bit of authority I have over my other half, I shove her down. Deep. Until there’s nothing but the faintest rattling of her cage. I’m barely processing what is happening around me as it is, I can’t have her incessant and out-of-character demands causing me more trouble right now.
After watching Rhosyn’s figure disappear down the hallway, I look back to the healer.
Zora.
“I don’t understand what is happening right now.”
The woman, who honestly looks like she’d be right at home selling homemade goat’s milk soaps and kombucha at an artisanal farmers market, plucks a piece of dry grass off her clearly hand-knit burgundy sweater. The many missed stitches and uneven arm lengths give it away. “You will in time.”
“Has anyone ever told you how frustratingly vague you are?”
A low, amused hum is my only form of response from the older woman who replaced my mother after our dismissal. The healer—whom I know to be a charmer wolf, since packs only entrust the high-valued role to those with access to magic—finally gifts me with her full attention.
“What did you hear when you touched the Alpha, Noa?”
My lie is immediate. “I didn’t hear anything.”
Zora sighs. “Do you know what an empath is?”
“I was raised by one of the strongest charmers of our time. I might not have access to my wolf or any gifts of my own because of it, but Mom made sure I learned all about the history of charmers and witches.” I don’t mention how I also received history lessons from the Ashvale Coven’s High Priestess. As far as I know, this pack has no idea where Mom and I ended up, and I’d like to keep it that way. Especially since I still have no clue how this visit is going to end. “Charmers and witches fall under different classifications. There are elementalists, conjurers, empaths, and oracles, just to name a few.”
“And on rare occasions, weavers, the strongest of our kind,” she adds, giving me a knowing look that makes my heart pang. “I’m not as powerful as Thalassa was, but like you said, there’s hardly anyone alive who has that kind of raw magic. I, myself, am an empath, which makes me a proficient healer for this pack, but it also gives me the handy little bonus gift of being able to sense when I’m being fed a load of bullshit, and you, my dear, are stinking up the place with your lies. I’ll ask you again, what did you hear when you touched Rennick?”
Lying to an empath like her would be like a toddler insisting they didn’t eat a brownie while their face is literally smeared with chocolate. Whether it’s a shift in scent, a change in aura color, or just some kind of innate sixth sense, deceiving Zora is pointless—she’s practically a walking lie detector. The coven would call an empath with her gifts a Truthscryer. One of Eldrith’s elder friends is a Truthscryer and it’s a well-known fact that you don’t play poker with that old bird. She’ll run you dry.
“It was nothing,” I mumble, still determined to find a way to deflect. “Like we’ve established, I don’t have any gifts, which means it was just my mind playing tricks on me.”
She makes another humming sound, and the way her dark orbs glint with concealed wisdom has me shifting uneasily on my couch cushion. There’s something unnerving about sitting across from someone who clearly knows something you don’t. “You drew that conclusion yourself. I’ve established no such thing.” The cryptic-as-hell woman doesn’t give me the opportunity to demand she elaborate further. “Why did you claim Alpha Fallamhain as your mate, Noa?”
I don’t know if it’s the relentless pounding in my skull, the exhaustion of this entire situation, or the heft of the last eight months finally crashing down on me, but I snap. Throwing my hands up, I all but shout at the woman, “I didn’t claim him!” My wolf does not appreciate this sentiment. Her distant, wounded whine makes that clear. “I don’t know how, and I don’t know why, but I heard him in my head. Over and over again. Mate. Mate. Mate. Mate . It wouldn’t stop. I didn’t mean to repeat it out loud, and I sure as hell didn’t mean to claim him, I swear. This whole thing is just a misunderstanding. It’s not like we’re actually fated mates, so none of it means anything, anyway.”
Zora’s lips purse as she regards me, that knowing look she’s been wearing since I woke up in here with her taking on a hint of curiosity. “How do you know?”
“How do I know what?”
“How do you know you’re not Rennick’s fated mate?”
Now it’s my turn to gape like a goldfish. “I—” I choke. “Because I would know .”
Discovering your scent match, your fated mate, is not something you’d mistake as something else. It’s ingrained into our very DNA to recognize the person we’re destined for. This knowledge is preached at shifters from a young age. It’s a moment in time that every wolf looks forward to. It would be impossible for you to miss it if it were happening to you.
The healer frowns at me, her lips, lined from years of smoking, thin to the point of near nonexistence. “Would you, though? You said it yourself, Noa. You’re a latent shifter, and your connection with your wolf isn’t where it should be. Your instincts are dulled, your bond strained. If your wolf were to recognize her scent match, can you truly be sure you’d interpret her desires the way she intended?”
Well, fuck me, I think this hippie bitch just stabbed me, because ouch .
I’m officially reeling.
A storm of emotions crashes over me, too fast and too many to name, but denial—yeah, that one is sharp and obvious. It’s the only thing keeping me afloat, the life jacket I cling to in this emotional riptide. Without it, I might just drown, because if this healer is right…if Rennick is truly my?—
No. I can’t think that. Iwon’t.
I refuse to believe, even for a second, that Zora is right. That the bond between me and the creature sharing my soul is so fractured, we’re incapable of recognizing our own fated mate. Because if that’s true, if I’ve lost something that fundamental, that sacred, it wouldruin me.
And worse, if there’s even the faintest chance that Rennickismine, then somewhere in this house, he’s trying to make peace with the woman he’s already promised himself to—the same woman who overheard me inadvertently claim him as my own—and that’s a reality I don’t know how to face.
“You’re wrong. Whether I can sense my fated mate or not, I know for a fact Rennick Fallamhain isn’t mine.” I try to sound strong, but the tremor in my voice gives me away. I’m too shaken to hide it.
“And how can you be so sure of that?”
My trembling hand gestures around the quiet room we sit in. “Because he’s not here. I may not have full access to my wolf, butRennick does.If we were truly fated, he would have scented it. Felt it. And we both know if that were the case, nothing could keep him from me. But he’s.Not. Here. He’s with his betrothed,making things right with her.” My wolf isn’t just whining now, she’s howling, her agony almost too much to bear. “Which is where he should be. He chose her long before I showed up here and he was reminded of my existence. Talis should be his priority in every situation, no matter how unbelievably fucked it is. That’s how it needs to be between mates.”
“I think you’re underestimating how incredibly emotionally dense men are.” Zora makes an exasperated sound, shifting forward in her armchair. “I also think you truly believe the story you're trying to sell me, but even without my gift, I’d know you’re lying to yourself. The tears currently dripping off your chin are betraying you.” She gives me a pointed look, watching as I hurriedly wipe them away. I have no idea when I started crying, but I’d like it to stop. “You’re also purposely overlooking an important detail, dear girl.”
“And what’s that?”
“You heard him,” she says. “You heard his thoughts. You heard him say ‘mate’ . What does that mean to you?”
My head is shaking before she’s done asking her question. “I told you. It was nothing. Just my mind playing tricks on me. It was a slip of the tongue on my part.”
Deny. Deny. Deny.
Zora’s next attempt is cut off when a sound pierces through the tense air of the sitting room. She doesn’t so much as flinch, meanwhile I’m flying to my feet, eyes flicking frantically around as if searching for a threat. It takes longer than I’d like to admit for my frayed nerves to settle and for my brain to finally recognize the source.
My shaking and clammy hand yanks my phone from my pocket.
Fuck.
“I have to go,” I murmur, eyes skimming the alerts I’ve received from both Seren and the Craddock Pack’s Alpha, Lowri.
“I’m going to go out on a limb and say our Alpha is going to want to have a word or two with you before you leave,” Zora warns me, but there’s no real heat behind it. She stands from her chair, stretching her back as she does. I didn’t notice how short she was when she was sitting. Her long skirt and oddly-shaped sweater helped conceal her frame. Now that I can take her fully in, I have no doubt this healer and charmer wolf is also an omega. Just like my mom was.
“I don’t have time to wait around for him.” I’m already moving toward the French doors Rhosyn had disappeared through many minutes ago, my wolf protesting every step, wanting to lay eyes on the Alpha again. Yeah, that’s not happening .
I feel guilty I’m going to leave without telling Rhosyn goodbye, especially since the poor girl held my bucket of puke. Maybe I can send her a thank-you note in the mail. A nice mini muffin basket, perhaps, for when she regains her appetite.
“I’m needed at home. I need to leave right now.” Phone already in hand and my car keys in my back pocket, the only thing I’m missing are my sunglasses, but I’m okay sacrificing them if it means I can get out of here as soon as possible. And ideally without too many eyes seeing me. A fast and easy escape, that’s what I’m in need of.
That knowing look, the one I really fucking hate, returns to Zora’s sun-weathered face. “Okay, I’ll show you the way out and run interference if I need to,” she offers easily. I’m already opening the doors and glancing down the seemingly empty hallways when she so casually adds, “We don’t want to leave your new omega waiting for too long. They’ll need you there to help them.”
Freezing in place, a fierce protectiveness washes over me. I turn back to look at the Truthscryer. “How do you know about?—”
“How do I know about the omegas you help?” she interjects, her thin brow rising.
There’s no accusation in her tone, or threat in her posture, yet it does nothing to settle the unease now creeping through me.
When your life is dedicated to protecting society’s most vulnerable members, you learn to watch for danger lurking in the shadows. There’s always something—or someone—waiting to exploit the weak. The omegas who find their way to us are usually running from something. Abuse from a parent or partner, maybe a past they can’t escape. It’s my job to give them a place to heal, to feel safe, and to start anew. Keeping our operation as secret as possible helps ensure we can safely offer them that.
I give her a stiff nod.
“Do you really think Thalassa started an underground sanctuary for omegas without having a system of friends and allies to help her? Who do you think are the ones covertly sending them to Ashvale? How do you think omegas know to find you in the first place?” She grips my shoulder, giving me a reassuring squeeze. “There’s so much you’ve yet to learn, Noa, but one thing you should know with absolute certainty is your mother always had a plan.”