Page 45 of Primal

The process is slow. Too slow. I have toforcemy heavy arms to lift and my hands to move, to scrub my hair, to wash the remnants of this nightmare from my body. Attoo many points, I considerjust giving up, sinking to the tile floor, curling my knees to my chest, and letting the boiling water drown me in its heat.

But I don’t.

By the skin of my teeth, I finish.

And by the time I step out, wrap myself in aplum-colored towel, and shut off the water, the cold air slams into me.I’m freezing. The kind of cold that cuts to the bone. Violentlyshivering, I hightail it out of the bathroom, making a beeline for my closet, already reaching for myheaviest sweatshirt and a pair of leggings.

I’m so lost in my own head, concentrating on the simplest movements, things that used to come without thought, like breathing or walking, that Idon’tnotice the figure seated near one of the windows.

Not until they say my name.

“Noa!”

The voice isn’t menacing or threatening, on the contrary, it’s bright with relief. Cheerful. But that doesn’t halt the embarrassingly theatrical yelp from escaping my throat or stopmy feet from leaving the hardwood floor in a bone-jarring little jump.

“Fuck!” I shriek, my hands still clutching my clothes, pressing them to my chest, where I silently will the organ residing within to return to its regular scheduled beating. Whirling to the intruder, my jaw just about hits the ground. “Rhosyn?”

Chapter 19

Noa

“Iknow what you’re thinking!”

She jumps out of the cream boucle chair, hand rising in silent surrender. Rhosyn, the mate of Rennick’s most loyal man, is in my bedroom looking entirely too at home in pink striped pajamas. Her riot of curls is up in two space buns, giving her a sleepover vibe that doesn’t match the reality of our situation. The one where she’s a long fucking way from where she should be. Which is, you know, back withhim, intheirterritory.

“You probably think I’ve been sent here to spy on you and then report back to Lord Stubborn McDickface, but I swear I’m not. Honestly, it’s probably in his best interest that I stay out of the same zip code—hell, state?—as him for a while longer. I’m still mentally workshopping what he’d look like with his wiener cut off and stapled to his forehead like some sad, pitiful little unicorn. My wolf is fully on board with that plan, by the way. Just give me the word, and I’m sure I can make it happen.”

After my brain, still not firing on all cylinders, finally processes her rapid-fire words and threats, I come to the realization that I believe her. I believe if I waved a littlecheckered flag, Rhosyn would do exactly what she’s described. Probably with embellished flair, too.

But it’s more than just believing her threats. There’s a pull, a little flicker in my gut, the same one I felt the day Seren showed up on our doorstep with sad eyes and an even sadder heart. It’s not loud, not flashy, but it’s there. A quiet understanding that settles in my bones.

Rhosyn and I were meant to cross paths. Fated, not in the mate-bond way, but in thefound-my-peoplekind of way. And just like that, I know we’re going to be friends. The fiercely loyal, mildly feral, help-you-bury-a-body kind of friends.

And there’s a sense of peace that settles over my aching being with this knowledge. The kind that quietly whispers that life can’t be all loss, that something good has to come from this pain, and maybe that something is her.

Maybe this kind of steadfast belief makes me insane, but even if it does, I don’t give a shit.

I wonder what Seren will think about our duo becoming a trio? Hold up, Noa, you dumbass. You’re getting ahead of yourself. What if Rhosyn doesn’t want to be part of your little unofficial lady gang? Wait, why wouldn’t she want to be friends with us, we’re awesome. You know, when we’re not having our souls ripped?—

“Noa?” Rhosyn’s worried voice brings me out of my internal and one-sided ramblings. Her green eyes are full of the same concern when I look into them.

I find myself shaking my head and answering her earlier question, “I didn’t think that.”

Her fawn brows lift in silent question.

“I didn’t think you were here to spy on me,” I clarify.

Her face lights up with relief, a tentative smile pulling on her lips. For the first time, I note the little gap she has between her two front teeth. It’s endearing as hell. “I’m really glad to hearthat. I know trust probably feels impossible right now. Especially when it’s coming from someone tied to…him. But I mean it, Noa. We wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t on your side.”

My question asking what she means by“we”is overtaken by the violent shiver that erupts down my spine and then down my limbs, making my already sore muscles convulse.

As if suddenly horrified by her own obliviousness, Rhosyn’s hand slaps over her mouth, concealing some of the embarrassment now reddening her cheeks.

“What the hell, Noa!” she exclaims through her fingers, bulging eyes taking in the way I’m still standing in nothing but a bath towel, my clothes still clutched to my chest, and the water dripping from my hair making a small puddle at my feet. “You’re literally standing there half naked, and I’ve been ranting about limp-dick unicorns. Why didn’t you say something?” Without another word, she spins on her slipper-covered feet—she really is dressed like she’s here for a slumber party—and moves toward my open en suite’s door. “Get dressed, I’m going to grab your blow-dryer. I’ll help you dry that mane you call hair. It looks like a two-person job.”

My refusal is like a gut reaction despite the way my body and mind protest the very thought of putting the energy into doing something as trivial as styling my hair. Before I found Rhosyn in here, my plan had been to just throw it up into a wet bun and then crawl back into bed as soon as possible. The energy expelled to make it through my shower has left me feeling exhausted.

“You don’t?—”

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