Page 14 of Primal

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 theroom. “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 wouldknow.”

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, becauseouch.

I’m officially reeling.

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