Page 12 of Primal

Still reeling, I’ve barely had a second to comprehend what’s just conspired when the little female—the one my wolf believes to be his destiny—collapses, her legs giving out completely. A rush of protective instinct rattles my bones, and I have her scooped up and in my arms before she can hit the wood decking. By the time she’s firmly tucked against my chest, she’s fully unconscious. The way her boneless neck snaps back, causing her dark sunglasses to tumble from her face, has my heart skipping a beat and wolf snarling. It’s as I’m shifting her weight to better support her when an all-too-familiar shrill voice slices through the haze I’m in. A deeply displeased low growl follows it.

“What did she just say?”

Reluctantly turning my attention away from the woman who’s all but thrown a bomb at my feet, altering my life in ways I haven’t fully grasped, I find Talis and her father standing across the deck wearing matching expressions of fury.

And behind them stands Canaan, who has been joined by Rhosyn, and the entirety of my pack council. Varying levels of concern twist their features, confirming my fear that they’ve heard too much.

Noa Alderwood doesn’t know it, but she just verbally claimed me as her mate—right in front of my betrothed.

Fuck. Me.

Chapter 5

Noa

When 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 unapologeticslutfor 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 thatcrazy 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. “Wouldyoulike 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.

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