Page 9 of Primal (The Prey Drive #1)
Chapter 8
Noa
I t was pure autopilot that got me home in one piece. Lost in a daze the entirety of my drive back to Ashvale, it wasn’t until I parked in the carport beside the rich burgundy painted Victorian manor I call home that I finally registered my surroundings. I might have been secretly impressed with my muscle memory if I didn’t find the whole thing unnerving as hell. Yeah, that could have ended poorly. Whoops, but also, go me!
Still slightly shell-shocked from getting my world fucking rocked—and not in a good way—I step through the squeaking front door of the house. Moving at a snail’s pace, I’m still pulling the key out of the deadbolt when Seren appears from the hallway that leads to the cellar stairwell. Her upturned, powder blue eyes narrow and then widen when she spots the urn I’m cradling like a football against my chest.
“Are you kidding me?” she snarls, doing her best to keep her voice low to avoid waking the baby resting in the bassinet in the room to our right. “That asshole actually turned you down?”
Finally getting the brass key out of the pesky lock, I close the door behind me and then move to place the urn on the round front hallway table. I guess it’s time to come up with a plan B for Mom’s ashes because I’m not sure I’ll ever set foot in Fallamhain territory again. At this point in time, I think I’d rather put a bonfire out with my face than relive that.
Can you blame me?
Today was…shit. It was shit. I don’t know if I can come up with a more elegant word for what today was. “Insane” could be a contender, but it doesn’t feel strong enough.
“Noa?” My best friend softly says my name when I don’t answer her question after a long moment. Silently walking past her, I head toward the kitchen and she follows. Just as I don’t have to say anything for her to know something is wrong, Seren doesn’t have to say anything for me to know she’s growing concerned. It’s oozing off her in a thick fog.
Tossing my keys in the marble bowl we keep on the little built-in desk in the kitchen, I flip on the antique stained-glass pendant lights and head to the stainless-steel refrigerator. I don’t know what I’m looking for, but when I see the jug full of mint green tea that I usually love, I quickly grab a bottle of water instead and close the door. The last thing I want to do right now is drink something that reminds me of him. I’m desperately trying to get my thoughts straight, and that’d be a difficult task to accomplish when sipping on something that carries hints of his scent.
Vetiver. Leather. Mint.
Delicious.
Seren leans against the reclaimed worktable we use as our kitchen island and watches me as I chug half the bottle.
“So, based on your deafening silence and the complete lack of color in your face, I’m going to take a shot in the dark and assume the meeting didn’t exactly go well.”
Even if I tried, I couldn’t hold back the laugh that escapes me. It spills out, triggering a fit of hysterics. The look of horror on Seren’s elfin face only makes me giggle harder until I’m bent over, a hand resting on my knee to keep me steady.
The second my friend’s hand is placed on my back, a sign of silent solidarity, the laughs turn to sobs. Just like that, I break. I can’t pinpoint the exact reason for my tears, but all I know is I welcome the emotional release.
Yeah, I was right. Today was shit.