Page 27 of Primal

There’s no longer any room for doubt. The internal battle I’ve been waging with myself and my wolf is irrelevant. Thechoice I’ve been wrestling with, the price I’ve been dreading…it’s inevitable now. For my pack. For their safety. My duty demands sacrifice, and this one may just haunt me forever.

“You have to pick me.”Her achingly sweet voice cuts through the chaos in my mind, a ghostly echo of her plea.

I can’t.

Please forgive me, sweet Noa.

“You’ve finally pulledyour head out of your ass and decided to not go back on your word, huh?” Cathal’s ruddy brow arches as he takes a long drag of his hand-rolled cigarette. The casual way he sucks on his cancer stick and leans against his shiny silver sports car—a vehicle that makes little sense in our mountainous climate—irks me. Especially after what my last thirty-six hours have looked like. “You going to honor our alliance, Fallamhain?”

“I don’t recall ever saying I wasn’t going to honor it, McNamara.” I match his emotionless tone and cold indifference with my own, a skill I’ve been learning to hone since I walked the six miles to the healer’s cabin with Carly’s lifeless body in my arms. The constant pull in my chest, persistent and aching, makes it harder than I’d like to admit, but ignoring it is another skill I’ve been sharpening. “You came to that conclusion all on your own.”

The unimpressed sound that rumbles from his throat ignites a violent urge in me to wrap my hand around it and squeeze until his eyes pop out of his skull. It takes every ounce of control to shove the impulse down, barely keeping a lid on it.

“The Alderwood girl isn’t going to be a problem, then?” he questions, an incredulous gleam in his dark gaze.

“No.”

My wolf balks at this, his teeth bared and hackles raised. Atme. The budding disconnect that started to form with Noa’s arrival has turned into something vast, an open chasm stretching between us that’s deepened drastically over the past day and a half. His defiance, his refusal to accept my decision, has forced me to lock him away deeper than I ever have before. Right now, I don’t trust him enough to let him loose, to shift, and I have no idea when that will change. His unwavering devotion to the woman who is not my betrothed leaves me with a gnawing worry because if I set him free, I don’t know what he’ll do.

“Hmm…” Cathal hums around the unfiltered end of his cigarette.

I snarl at this, the sound I emit purely animalistic. “I don’t take kindly to being doubted.”

This has his lips curling into a cruel grin. “And I don’t appreciate my daughter being made to look like a fool. A second choice.”

“Your daughter is hardly myfirstchoice, McNamara. That’s no secret,” I remind him, my newly sharpened iciness settling back into place. “This is a strategic alliance, nothing more. A means to protect my pack. Let’s not pretend it was ever a matter of emotional sentiment.”

He knows exactly what I’m sacrificing by taking his daughter as my chosen mate. He understands the future I’m tearing away from my bloodline, from the pups I’ll possibly father. The Fallamhain Alpha dynasty will die with me, a cost I’ve accepted. But Cathal doesn’t care. To him, this union isn’t a sacrifice, it’s an opportunity. A way to secure his beta daughter a place of prestige.

“Nonetheless, if you want me to continue with this partnership, you’re going to fix it.”

My jaw tics, teeth clenching. “And how, precisely, do you propose I do that?”

Never, in all the years I’ve known Cathal McNamara, have I sensed any real joy or happiness when he smiled. Each time before, it always read like a threat. A taunt of sorts. But now, as he drops the butt of his cigarette and stomps out the embers with the sole of his leather dress shoes, the grin on his face is alarmingly gleeful.

Bracing for what he has to say, my defenses strengthen.

“If you want what my pack can offer you—youromegas—you’re going to reject her. Publicly,” he declares, his posture turning smug. “The little wolfless bitch claimed you publicly, it’s only fair you return the favor, don’t you think? For Talis’s sake, that is.”

My wolf wars and rages against the restraints I’ve been forced to place on him. The very notion of this is unfathomable to him. The tugging sensation in my chest surges, sharp and relentless, yanking so hard I almost stumble forward. I haven’t admitted it, but deep down, I know exactly where it’s trying to pull me.

“That isn’t necessary. She’s not?—”

My blatant denial is cut off.

“Are you willing to risk another dead omega being dumped on your damn doorstep? You want this treaty? This is my price.”

Chapter 11

Noa

“Everything in here is brand new, or if it’s not, it’s been thoroughly washed with scent-neutralizing detergent.” I push the door open to what we call the nesting closet. The sheer size of the space makes it the furthest thing from an actual closet, but the name’s stuck nonetheless. All four walls have built-in shelving units that are stocked to the brim with various color-coded nesting supplies. In the middle, we have bins that are stuffed with more fabric and pillows. “Like I told you before, you’re welcome to anything here. You can take as much or as little as you want. This is your space—your nest—and you need to be comfortable in it, and if twenty-seven pillows and thirteen blankets is what you need to accomplish that, then so be it.”

After five nights with us and countless gentle offers from Seren and me, our new Nightingale has finally chosen to make her new room her own. This is so much more than simply decorating. It’s deeper than that. For an omega, curating a nest is something that borders on ceremonial. It’s sacred. The fact she feels safe enough to take this step is a testament to her resilience. Having access to a genuine nest of her own will onlyaid her healing process here. There is nowhere an omega feels safer than in her nest.

And who knows when Siggy’s next heat will hit? More than once, simply being in a safe, stable environment has triggered a heat cycle in one of our Nightingales. Once their bodies are no longer trapped in a constant state of fight or flight, they can finally relax, allowing nature to resume its regularly scheduled programming. It would be detrimental to Siggy if she didn’t have a proper nest ready in time.

Stepping into the room, I look over my shoulder to make sure she’s still with me, but she remains three feet before the open doorway. The panic-stricken look in her big blue eyes tells me everything I need to know.

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