Page 62 of Primal

Canaan and Rhosyn, who’ve been giving us space from a respectful distance, step in closer now.

Rhosyn asks, “Does Yrsa know she’s coming home today?”

I shake my head, jaw tight. “No. I didn’t want to say anything until I knew for sure. Until I saw her with my own eyes. I couldn’t risk getting her hopes up if it didn’t work out.”

The Viking-like woman is probably going to hand me my ass for this decision, but hey, at least we’re sticking on brand for what this week has been like for me.What’s one more pissed-off female?At least with the council member I know she’ll get over her initial anger once her daughter is in front of her.

Canaan pulls the keys from his pocket—the ones for the vehicle he commandeered at the clearing—and tosses them once in the air before catching them. “Then let’s not waste any moretime. Are we ready to head out? It’s getting fucking cold out here, anyway.”

I nod and because I can’t stop myself from seeking her out, I look to Noa. She hasn’t said a word since Siggy pulled away from her, and now she’s standing just off to the side, the wind catching in her dark hair in a way that reminds me of my dreams. The dreams I now know she was the star of. For months. Her hair, colorless then, would billow around her just like it does now in those dreams.

“Are you…” The words catch in my throat. Coughing once, I force them out. “Are you coming back with us too?”

Her face shifts. Tightens. Her brows pinch and her eyes flash. Not with anger but hurt. Shit. She thinks I’m questioning whether sheshouldcome. That I’m implying I don’t want her there. Which is both true and the biggest lie at the same time. I want to keep her a safe distance from my pack until I’ve sorted out a genuine solution to my McNamara problem, but in the same breath, I want to throw her over my shoulder and march right to my home with her. I want her in my bedroom where I can lock her in and guard the door while she recuperates from the wounds I’ve carved into her.

I can’t tell her this, of course, but when I open my mouth to fix it another way, Siggy beats me to it.

“I’m not going back without Noa,” she tells me, steady and strong, her voice surer than it’s been since I got here. She stands straighter when she says it too, like she’s drawing a line in the sand. This isn’t a request; it’s a condition.

While Noa doesn’t look surprised by the declaration, there’s a shadow in her expression. Something tired and heavy. A complicated mix of wariness and quiet resignation.

Canaan nods his head once when I mutely turn to him for confirmation on a question I think I already know the answer tojust from observing the two omega females interact these past few minutes.

The way Siggy leans toward Noa, the way she looks to her for guidance, says everything. In her climb out of the dark toward recovery, Siggy has tethered herself to Noa. That bond, whatever shape it’s taken, is clearly the thing keeping her steady right now. And Noa, shit, she looks like she’s running on fumes, but she’s still standing. Still offering herself to be someone else’s foundation. She can barely keep herself up, but she has no intention of letting Siggy face this alone. I don’t know if she knows how strong that makes her. It’s a quiet kind of strength, but strength, nonetheless.

“I have no intentions of making you do that, Siggy,” I tell her, meaning every damn word. “Now, come on, Canaan’s right, it’s starting to get cold as hell out here.”

Even with my higher-than-normal shifter internal temperature, the chill in the air is starting to work its way through my clothes. As if on cue. Noa’s entire body trembles within her oversized hoodie. The tip of her pert little nose is bright pink and the high points of her cheekbones, which are already looking more defined than they did five days ago, match. The instincts woven into my makeup, the ones I tried to pretend didn’t exist when I first caught her scent on the wind that day, demand that I get her somewhere warm.

I also can’t help but be worried about her being behind the wheel when she’s this unsteady. If the shadows under her eyes mean what I think they do, then she’s been sleeping about as well as I have this past week. Which means barely at all. The very idea of her exhausted state driving the winding mountain pass roads up to our territory’s gates makes my skin feel too tight, the fear tearing at me.

“Leave your Jeep here,” I tell her, keeping my voice as even and calm as I can manage. “I’ll drive you and Siggy back to theterritory. Then, whenever you’re ready to head home, I’ll bring you back here myself.”

Home. A place that’s only been hours away all this time. Without realizing it, Thalassa took my mate away from me over seven years ago, and still somehow kept her just under my nose. I can’t stop the gnawing suspicion that it wasn’t an accident, that every move the weaver made had a purpose, some deeper reason I haven’t uncovered yet.

Noa flinches at my offer, her brows pulling tight under wind-tousled bangs. “I’ll follow behind Canaan with Siggy just like I did on our drive here,” she says softly, her eyes flicking anywhere but my face. It’s not until she draws in a breath and lifts her chin that I see her full, bracing effort to meet my eyes. “I’d feel better if I knew I had access to my own vehicle in case I need to leave. I’m sure you understand why.”

She picked her words carefully and they have her desired outcome, because inwardly I wince like I’ve taken a hit to the sternum at their implication. Noa wants an out, an escape route. From me.

“Yeah, Noa, I understand.”

Her name tastes as sweet as her flowering omega perfume on my tongue, but it quickly sours when she shrinks at hearing her name come out of my mouth.

I vow, right here and now, that one day, hearing me say her name will be the thing that heals her, not breaks her.

Chapter 24

Noa

This whole day feels like some cruel test of how much dread a person can endure before they break. Like the universe, or maybe the Goddess herself, is watching with morbid curiosity, tallying every time I manage to keep breathing while my lungs, my bones, and every hollow part of me fill with the suffocating weight of grief and fear.

The first test was the drive to the overlook. My hands shook on the steering wheel the entire way, fingers clenched so tight they ached. The second—thetest—was seeing Rennick again. Not just seeing him.Interactingwith him.

At that point, I figured this wasn't a test anymore. The only plausible explanation I could see was that this was a cosmic joke. A petty kind of revenge served up by a deity I must’ve pissed off something fierce in another life. They’re watching me unravel now, and apparently, they’re enjoying the show. Watching the man who didn’t just break my heart, but carved out my soul, walk around like not only does he have a right to do so, but as if hewantsto be in my orbit.

The only thing I’ve been silently grateful for since he climbed out of his truck and his scent hit the air is that I couldbarelysmell it. Before, Rennick’s scent allured to me in ways I didn’t think possible. It was addictive in the kind of way that made me imagine rolling around in it, doing freaking snow angels in vetiver, leather, and mint. But now, it’s nothing more than a whisper. Faint. Distant. I thought, maybe, this was the Goddess giving me a shred of mercy, letting menotcrave the scent of the man who tore me apart.

But that hope was short-lived. Because it wasn’t justhisscent that’s gone. Siggy’s distinct sweet omega perfume? Barely detectable. The amber and orange candles Seren insists on burning at the manor? Nothing. I don’t even remember smelling the coffee she brewed this morning before we left. And the food I’ve tried to force down over the last few days? It hasn’t tasted like cardboard just because I’ve got no appetite. I think…I think my taste is going, too.

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