Page 23 of Primal

A flush creeps over Edie’s face. “Yeah…I mean, I can feel it,” her hand taps the center of her chest, “in here. My wolf agrees. She recognizes Lena as her alpha. It’s so weird how it works, how you just know, but it’s pretty fucking amazing too, right?”

Throat suddenly tighter than hell, all I can manage is a jerky nod and a slightly strangled, “Yeah. Amazing.”

“We’re almost done. I promise.”I quickly accepted that the fair-haired omega isn’t quite ready to verbally communicate with me, but that hasn’t stopped me from spending the better part of the past hour yapping my little heart out. The process of cleaning her wounds has been a slow one, and if I wasn’t explaining each step in great detail to her before I did them, I was just rambling on about whatever random thoughts came to mind. “There’s still some debris in this cut that I need to get out before we cleanse it and then wrap it with gauze. Just like we did on your other foot.”

Seren wasn’t kidding. This Nightingale’s feet are in rough shape. Normally, a shifter’s enhanced healing ability prevents wounds like this from sticking around or from getting infected, but the poor girl pressed into the corner before me has clearly been through it. She’s far too thin, the gauntness in her face makes her high cheekbones more defined than they should be. The puffy dark circles under her bloodshot deep blue eyes speak for the lack of sleep she’s had. This omega is malnourished, exhausted, and very clearly emotionally drained. All things that will work against her natural ability to heal. So, while antisepticspray and a natural healing ointment might seem like overkill for a shifter, they will do nothing but help the healing process go easier and faster for her.

When I’d first walked into the room Seren had assigned to her, I’d found her huddled up in the same corner she’s in now. Instead of marching into her space and thrusting myself upon her, I sat in the doorway of the room—her nest—with Seren and spoke to her from there until she’d eventually lifted her head, gaze meeting mine. I talked a little bit longer, about what our sanctuary was and how it worked, and when I was sure she was truly listening to me, I’d asked her if I could help with her wounds. Her nod had been hesitant and small; if you hadn’t been watching closely, you would have missed it.

Seren had remained in the doorway, adding to my one-sided conversation every once in a while, until the baby monitor on her hip had gone off. Before leaving to feed Ivey, my friend had reassured the scared female that she was safe here and that she was proud of her for finding her way to us. A sentiment I echoed immediately. Every time we’ve promised her that no one would harm her here, her stiff shoulders had relaxed a touch. We’d keep doing it until she believed us.

“One time, I was running through the shallow part of the creek, and I tripped.” Explaining the memory that’s suddenly resurfaced, I carefully use a swab to dislodge dirt and other small pieces of debris from the open wounds on her sole. “Totally face-planted. I think I was almost thirteen, and of course I was embarrassed as hell because those new teenage emotions are never anything less than dramatic, but when I’d managed to pull myself up, I found a sharp pebble embedded in my palm. Normally, I would have just gone to my mom since she was the pack’s healer, but we weren’t actually supposed to be down at the creek that day. My friend had to dig it out himself, so our parents didn’t find out that we’d skipped school.”

The image of a sun-tanned hand with defined veins cradling my much smaller, bleeding one reemerges from the depths of my mind it was buried in. I bit my lip to stop myself from wincing too loud as he’d gently removed the rock from my skin. When he was done, he’d lifted my chin, and his thumb had tugged my lip from my teeth…gunmetal irises that were basically metallic had locked with mine as he vowed I would be okay.

Those eyes.

I’d recognize them anywhere.

Rennick.

My body goes rigid, locking in place as the realization crashes over me. The person I’d secretly slipped away with that day was him. The memory unravels further, and suddenly, more fragments from my past rise to the surface. Different moments, different days, but at their core, they’re all the same. They’re all tied to the Alpha’s son and the time we’d spent together as pups. Time together I’d forgotten about until now.

How is it possible I didn’t remember any of this until now?

There’s a tugging sensation in my chest and my wolf keens, her quiet sorrow over the memories like a punch to the gut. Had she remembered these moments we’d spent with Rennick all along? Was that why she’d lost her mind when she’d picked up his scent? And if that was the case, why could she remember our time with the Alpha heir when I couldn’t?

These are the questions bombarding my brain when the omega, the person who deserves my full attention right now, shifts in front of me. Her hands, which have been held stiffly at her sides since I finished splinting the two broken fingers Seren had clocked, lift slowly to rest on her lap. The movement is hesitant, but the tension in her limbs seems to have eased tremendously.

Lifting my attention from her wounded foot, I’m equal parts surprised and relieved to find an expectant look in her eyes.When my brows lift, the omega nods her chin at me, silently encouraging me to continue my tale.

I can’t help the small smile that lifts my lips. “Right, okay then.” Clearing my throat, I allow myself to delve back into the memory of Rennick. “Thinking we could get away with playing hooky was so dumb. Like I said, my mom was the pack’s healer and his father was the pack Alpha. Word got back to them before our swimsuits were dry. It’s safe to say the Alpha was not impressed.”

Merritt Fallamhain had scolded us both, but more so Rennick, growling about how he didn’t need his heir to be acting like some kind of“delinquent”.You would have thought we’d stolen a car and robbed a bank by his reaction. I remember cringing and instinctively baring my neck to the furious pack leader, but Rennick remained steadfast. At sixteen, year before he’d present as an alpha himself, he had refused to bow to his father’s dominance. Looking back at this newfound memory, I think this was the moment Merritt realized his son was going to outmatch him.

Her eyes dart toward my hand that is currently carefully using a swab to apply an all-natural, honey-based antibacterial cream, and then she does the same to my other gloved hand. She repeats this twice more when I don’t immediately pick up on her unspoken question.

“It was this hand.” Holding out my left hand—my dominant hand, just like Mom’s—I gesture vaguely to the area on my upturned palm where the rock had embedded itself. “Obviously you can’t see it because I have gloves on, but it was here. I still have a scar to this day.” A scar I never really gave much attention to because it was simply justthere. I guess, a part of me had assumed it happened when I was too young to really remember.

This has her wheat-blonde brows, the same shade as the long and mattered strands on her head, lifting in surprise. Not sosubtlety, her nostrils flare as she tries to scent me. To scent my wolf.

“I’m doused in scent-neutralizing spray right now,” I explain when her face scrunches up in confusion. “But even without it, you wouldn’t catch my wolf’s scent. She’s locked away down deep. I’m latent, never been able to shift. Which is also why this scar is still hanging around after thirteen years. I don’t heal like you guys do without my wolf’s help, so any scars I get, they’re sticking with me.”

Unless a wound is caused by an exceptionally dominant alpha, a shifter’s advanced healing will knit flesh back together until the skin is once again smooth. Any evidence of damage is washed away. Some injuries take longer than others for the scar to vanish, but if given time, most will heal completely.

But like any other kind of trauma, just because there’s no physical reminder of what you’ve endured, it doesn’t mean you don’t remember the pain.

She stares at me, unmoving, tension thick between us. But as the seconds stretch, I can feel her slipping away. Her eyes grow distant, her already gaunt face paling more. Slowly, with a shaky, almost mechanical motion, she lifts her arms in front of her. Her deep blue irises are haunted as she studies the smooth expanse of her exposed skin. Any evidence of whatever she lived through has been smoothed away.

As if a swarm of cicadas has taken up residence in my skull, a near-deafening buzz erupts between my ears. My body flinches, instinctively trying to shake it off, as if I could escape the sound, but it’s useless. It keeps growing, amplifying, until, like a glass bowl with a fissure, everything cracks.

Shattering.

Making way for another sound.

No, not sound.

A voice.

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