Page 25 of Primal

“Do you feel me?” she murmurs, pressing forward, her sleek, naked body molding against mine. The pressure against my aching cock is just enough to tease me.

I can’t stop the low rumble of a groan as it escapes. My hands find her waist of their own volition, grasping the warmth of her skin. The feel of her slight body in my hold sends a hum of pleasure through my chest. The moonlight makes her soft, pale skin glisten, and the primal side of me demands that I mark it. Mark it as mine.

Her focus remains on my chest, her face not once tipping up so I can make out her delicate features. I need to see her. The innate desire consumes me.

Sliding my hands up her body, pausing to caress the sides of her neck, I clasp her face and tilt her chin. Her pert little nose and plump pink lips are just as I remember them to be, but her eyes…

They’re made of the same white fog that is trickling into the room from the open windows. Within her irises, it moves with the same ghostly fluidity. The tendrils coil and float, restless, never settling. You’d expect her gaze to feel cold, lifeless, but I’m met with a warm intensity that beckons me. Imprisons me.

Her fingers wrap around my wrists, holding me in place, as she stares back at me. Here, in this dream, she is ethereal. Goddess-like. I am enraptured by her. A craving I’ve never felt before burns in my veins, burning for her. Every fiber of my being calls to her and demands that I claim her.

Noa lifts onto her toes, bringing her face just close enough that I can feel her warm, shaky breath ghost across my chin.

“Pick me.”

The words slice through the haze of need, an ache I couldn’t name tightening in my chest.

“I—”

Her hold on my wrist tightens, her fingers digging into my skin as though she’s afraid I’ll slip away. The broken look in her gaze guts me. My previously silent wolf rises within me, ears pricked, muscles coiled. He watches her through my eyes, searching for what’s caused our mate to look so crestfallen.

“You have to pick me.”

Her voice is a breath, a plea, that rattles something deep in my bones.

I open my mouth to answer, to make a vow to her that is as easy as breathing, but I never get the words out.

The dream shatters.

“Nick!” A strong hand grips my shoulder, aggressively shaking me awake and away fromher.

My wolf charges forward, breaking through the barrier that keeps me in control. One moment I’m sprawled on the cream sofa in the den that’s entirely too small for my large frame, and the next I have the offender who dared to rip me from my dream—away from her—against the bookcase across the room. I’m vaguely aware of the distinct sound of wood splintering and the way paperbacks and hardcovers go flying, their pages fluttering as they fall to the floors.

Beastly side still holding our reins, I snarl in my wrongdoer's face, the force of my blazing alpha aura demanding their complete submission. It’s not until their distinct hazel eyes, ones I know well, fall and his head awkwardly turns to the side, baring his neck as best he can with my hand wrapped around it, that I fully return to my body.

With one last, low warning growl, I release him and back away.

He stumbles, catching himself before he can join the discarded books on the ground. Heaving to replenish his air flow, Canaan stares at me in bewilderment. “Fucking hell, man. I tried waking you up the nice way, but you didn’t so much as twitch. You were dead to the world.” He gestures in the direction of the coffee table. “Shifter or not, looks like a whole bottle of bourbon doesn’t discriminate and will knock anyone on their ass.”

Oh. Right. The bourbon.

Without the rush of adrenaline pouring through my veins, the lingering effects of my bad decisions creep back in. The most prominent of which is the pounding headache that makes my eyes hurt with it. It’s notoriously hard for a wolf shifter to get a hangover, but nothing is impossible if you really put your mind to it, and fuck if I didn’t put in a valiant effort.

Groaning, I slump my exhausted ass back onto the couch and cradle my throbbing skull in my hands. The faint morning light streaming through the big windows only makes the ache in my eyes worse.

I can feel Canaan’s concerned gaze raking over me, but he has the decency to give me a minute to fully wake up and recenter my alcohol-soaked system before speaking.

“Took me a minute to track you down. Searched the whole damn house. Obviously, you weren’t in your room. That’s where I checked first. Even checked out back to see if you crashed inthat chair of yours again.” Grudgingly lifting my head, I find him glancing around the room, expression of poorly concealed understanding written on his face. “Probably should have guessed I’d find you in here sooner than I did.”

I stare back at him, waiting for him to acknowledge what we both know.

“Still smell like her in here?”

The way his chest expands and his nostrils flare has my wolf’s hackles rising. He doesn’t want another male, trusted friend or not, to scent her. The way my teeth are grinding, I’d have to reluctantly agree with his sentiment, but I find I don’t give two shits if it’s a male or not tasting her sweetness in the air. Male or female. Friend or foe. I don’t want to share it with anyone. Bottling it up and huffing it like a greedy bastard is more the lane I’m running in right now.

Scrubbing my face with my palm, I grunt, “It did last night.”

Subtly, I test the air myself and find it stale, her tempting fragrance nowhere to be found.

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