Page 22 of Primal

Seren regards me for a second as if she’s searching for the bullshit lie in my expression. When she doesn’t find anything, or, more likely, she’s just pretending to ignore it, she sighs. “Okay, I hear you. I just wanted to double-check you were up for it.” She lifts her pale hand, her fingers wiggling. “Just give me the word and I’ll take the edge off.”

Seren Pryce’s charmer magic is a thing some would consider a gift, and others would see it a curse. Like a finely tuned sensor, she can feel every emotion radiating from a person. Good, bad, and everything in between, none escape her. Handling your own emotions is draining enough, but taking on everyone else’s? That’s something I can’t pretend to understand or relate to.

And then there’s the bonus gift. The one where she has the ability to literally absorb someone’s negative emotions or pain. She can’t erase bad memories or remove the source of their discomfort, but she can take on the weight of it, offering temporary relief while carrying the burden herself.

While in theory it’s a selfless affinity, it’s also an incredibly taxing one, which is why my answer to her proposition is instantaneous.

“Not a chance in hell.”

Her powder blue eyes roll. “I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t mean it.”

“I’ve never let you take my hurt, and I’m not about to start now.” I bat away her extended hand. When I got the call about Mom’s accident and I barely managed to get out of bed to brush my teeth during the week that followed, I refused all of Seren’s offers for help. Her just being there so I knew I wasn’t alone was enough. Just like it is now, something I reiterate just so we’re on the same page. “I don’t need you to absorb my pain, Ser, I just need you to be here and to promise me whatever comes from this insanity that things will be okay. ThatI’llbe okay.”

Seren nods solemnly.

“I’m not going anywhere. You are stuck with my ass forever,” she vows. “And if, for whatever reason, everything goes up in flames, I can’t promise you that you’ll be okay at first, but I can promise that, eventually, things will fall into place. You’ll be all right when that happens. Take it from me, I’m basically the poster child for this.” The small smile she gives me is meant tobe reassuring, but the hint of her pain from her own heartbreak shines through the cracks of her façade she’s been building since she showed up on the apothecary’s doorstep a little over a year and half ago.

“You’re right.” I give her forearm a quick squeeze before going back to gathering supplies. “We’ve got this.”

“Damn right we do.”

I’m reaching for the canvas pack I always keep under the table that is full of my go-to medical supplies when a dark head pops around the corner.

“Sorry, Noa, I’ve got your first aid kit bag thingy,” Edie tells me, a camel-colored backpack strap hanging from her delicate hand. “Needed to borrow the tweezers. I got another splinter in my finger this afternoon when I was gathering the herbs and whatnot that were ready to be harvested from the greenhouse.”

Like the obnoxious mother hen I am, I take the pack from Edie and snag her wrist before she has the chance to pull away. I can practically hear the young omega rolling her eyes at me as I examine her digits.

“How many times do I have to warn you to wear gloves?” I ask once I determine she got the whole sliver out herself this time. Last time, she wasn’t so successful.

“I’mfine, you absolute worrywart,” she brushes me off, humor sparkling in her raven eyes. There was a time not that long ago where the confident girl standing before didn’t so much as smile. The first time she laughed freely in front of us was a day that Mom, Seren, and I had celebrated. At the ripe age of twenty, Edie has endured more than anyone should in a lifetime. I’m thankful every day she found her way to us before things with her stepfather escalated to fatal levels.

“Please tell me you weren’t handling the plants in garden bed number five today, Edie.” I’m sure the exasperation in my tonematches the emotion overtaking my features. “You know how dangerous?—”

“Oh, come on! Give me some credit. If I’m going to handle shit like nightshade and wolfsbane, you can be rest assured I’m going to glove up.” She wags her hands, palms up, at us before tucking them into the pockets of her bright pink overalls that look amazing with her deep olive skin tone. If there’s one thing to know about Edie, it’s that the girl loves vibrant-as-hell colors. The nest she built in her room down here looks like a whimsical candy shop, overflowing with pillows and blankets in a mix of bright, cheerful colors. Since she’s come out of her shell, she’s been giving me shit about the lack of color in my own closet. I may have thirty-two different black tops, but you’ll have to pry each one out of my cold dead hands before you see me in something neon. “I still think it’s low-key scary you grow stuff like that in the greenhouse to begin with. I’m not going to be dumb enough to go around touching it all willy-nilly.”

Aside from the herbal remedies for pain management, homeopathic medicine, and sleep aids, the deadly flora the apothecary secretly offers is some of our most sought-after merchandise. For some, escaping their toxic situation isn’t enough, and the safest option for our patrons is to eliminate the problem altogether. Of course, Potion & Petal doesn’t advertise the fact we sell these particular herbs, and if anyone were to come to our greenhouse trying to find proof to implicate us, they’ll be met with another one of Vardis’s glamours.

“I need you to be wearing your gloves in the greenhouse at all times,” I remind her. “If you won’t promise me that, I can’t risk you working in there.” It’s a cheap shot threatening to take away Edie’s favorite part of working at the apothecary, but we have at least four different plants in there that are lethal or highly toxic to shifters specifically. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself ifsomething happened to her. Especially, when this is supposed to be her fresh start.

“Fine. I promise.”

Seren reaches past me to tug on one of the two braids Edie’s twisted her dark curly hair into today. “Don’t pout,” she lightheartedly jests. “You know we’re just looking out for you. Plus, if you accidently dropped dead from ingesting some belladonna that got on your hands, you wouldn’t be able to go on your date with Lena this weekend.”

At Seren’s singsongy taunt, Edie’s mouth gapes. “How do you know about?—”

“Oh, please. We know everything that happens around here.”

Edie’s eyes shift to me, the silent question clear in them.

“What? You thought you could start seeing one of Lowri’s pack members and it wouldn’t get back to us?” I tease as I dump the rest of the supplies I might need into the canvas bag. With everything ready, I sling the kit onto my back and collect the basket I’d placed on the floor full of other necessities the omega will need. Turning to leave, I pause next to Edie and give her a genuine smile. “We’re happy for you, love. More than anything, that is what we want for you. You deserve it.”

Watching this omega heal and step into her own strength is exactly why I’ve dedicated my life to this work. The fact that Edie has chosen to stay with us even after graduating from our program fills me with pride. The little community we’ve built here has given her a sense of safety, and, now, it’s guiding her toward love. This is the kind of success story Mom aspired for when she first conceptualized the idea of a refuge for omegas. Our Nightingale sanctuary.

Edie chews on her lips for a minute, looking totally unsure of herself before she blurts, “Lena is my scent match!”

Seren and I both freeze in place, but it’s Seren who breaks first.

“Are you sure?” she asks the slightly younger female, resting a hand on her shoulder. Her light eyes flick back and forth, carefully reading every emotion as she listens.

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