Page 5 of Primal

Palming my keys in a grip so hard the metal digs into my palm, I find the courage to exit the safety of my car and face the sentry.

Despite not being able to recall what the Alpha’s son looked like, I know immediately this alpha male isn’t him. And my wolfknows it too. In her usual fashion, she bristles at the male’s tea tree and lime scent. It’s not that he smells bad. If anything, I’m usually fond of those scent notes. Hell, I handle tea tree on an almost daily basis back at the apothecary, but when the scent comes attached to a man, it’s like sandpaper to my sinuses.

“I didn’t think you were ever going to get out of the car,” the rumbly timbre of his voice washes over me, making my eyes dip to his slightly scuffed white sneakers. While the alpha aura coming off him isn’t suffocating, it’s just enough to make my inner wolf want to show deference. Those ingrained instincts are hard to fight. “I thought about knocking on your window, but I didn’t want to startle you more than I clearly already did.”

Crap…so he did hear me.

The sarcastic side of my brain wants to scoff at this and ask why he’s worried about the well-being of an exiled latent wolf, but I’m smarter than that. Instead, I clear my throat and flick my gaze to where messy, light brown hair hangs over the middle of his forehead. Some alphas see direct eye contact as a challenge and if there is one thing I know I want to avoid, it’s that. No point in picking fights you know you’re not going to win.

“Sorry for keeping you waiting. I was just trying to get my shit together.”Oops. My chronic potty mouth strikes again.Way to make a good impression.“Sorry, I just mean I was trying to talk myself into getting out of the car. If I’m being honest, I don’t really want to be here.”

As I fleetingly allow myself to look into his hazel eyes, I see something that looks shockingly like empathy in the chestnut-and-green-flecked orbs. Empathy is something I was not expecting to receive today.

“Rhosyn told me why you requested a meeting with our Alpha. You have my condolences. Losing a parent is…” He trails off with a solemn shake of his head. “I know how heavy theweight of that loss is. I’m just thankful I had my pack and my mate to get me through it when my dad passed a few years back.”

His words, while well-intended, are like a hot poker to the still exposed wound my mom’s untimely death has left. “Yeah,” I mutter after swallowing down the prickly ball of emotions that has lodged itself in my throat. “You’re one of the lucky wolves to have that kind of support around you.”

The sympathy that is reflected in his features is too much for me to handle and I drop my attention to his shoes again.

“Yes, that I am,” he agrees in a tone that is alarmingly gentle. I walked into this conversation braced for all kinds of outcomes, but being met with…genuine warmth? That wasn’t on my bingo card. “I’m sorry. I haven’t introduced myself yet.” My eyes widen when he holds his hand out. “I’m Canaan Roarke, Rhosyn’s mate and the Alpha’s second-in-command. Rosie got caught up dealing with a pack matter and asked me to meet you here since she knew I was headed this way already for a meeting. She’s ordered me to tell you she’s sorry she’s running behind and that she promises she’ll try her best to get here before you leave.”

There’s something about the way he introduces himself as his female’s mate before announcing his substantial pack rank that makes my heart tighten with a kind of jealousy I’ve never felt prior to this. To have a mate who is so proud of being yours he goes out of his way to let people know of your bond? That’s something I can only dream of one day having myself, and if my wolf’s behavior toward the male species is any indication, it will only ever be just that. A dream.

And it’s because of this I flick my eyes at his offered hand before tucking my own hands behind my back. I’m not a rude person. My mom ensured I knew all my manners, but with my wolf already on edge, I can’t fathom allowing myself to come into physical contact with an alpha male right now. As it is, I’m barely holding it together with the inner turmoil she’s creating.

“I’m Noa Alderwood,” I introduce myself, my voice sounding strained to even me. “But I’m pretty sure you already knew that.”

To my relief, Canaan doesn’t comment on the way I’ve rejected his offered hand and instead lets it drop casually to his side. “Rosie may have mentioned it when she called and explained the mystery meeting that showed up on our Alpha’s schedule today.”

Feeling a touch more relaxed, I tilt my head up to finally look at the man before me. He’s older than me, probably early thirties, but the boyish charm of his handsome features makes him appear younger than he most likely is. It’s the laugh lines around his eyes that give his true age away.

There’s about four days’ worth of growth over his strong jaw and chin. His hair is streaked with lighter strands that are more than likely caused by the sun. Wolf shifters are most content outdoors. The golden tan and sun-bleached strands confirm this to be true for the alpha male before me. He doesn’t have any tattoos I can see. The only thing to “blemish” his skin is the mating mark on the side of his corded neck, but I wouldn’t consider that to be a true blemish. It’s a scar to be worn with abundant pride and from the very way he simply says his mate’s name, I know to my very core this alpha is a goner for his mate.

One thing I don’t quite understand is how Canaan came to be the pack Alpha’s second. From what I can remember, the Alpha’s brother had acted as his second for the entire duration of his governance. If something had happened to Merritt’s brother, the logical move would have been to pass the job off to his own son. As the Alpha’s heir, it would make sense for him to start off in a less demanding position where he can learn the ropes before donning the metaphorical crown after his father’s retirement or death. Has something happened to the Alpha’s brother and son, and that’s why Canaan has found himself in this high-ranking position?

These questions run rampant around in my brain for a moment before I seize them and lock them away. The hierarchy and politics of the Fallamhain Pack are none of my concern.

“I’m really thankful to your mate that she was able to fit me in.” I nudge the gravel below my feet with the tip of my thick-soled Chelsea boot. “I’ve been putting this off for a while now and it’s hard to explain, but today, for some odd reason, just felt…right. Like it was finally time.”

“I understand.” Canaan turns and gestures toward the iron and glass front door of the impressive house. “We have a meeting with our pack council and another pack’s leader right after yours, so let’s get you inside and settled so you’re ready to go once Alpha Fallamhain is back. He’s still finishing up his run and he’s assured me he wouldn’t disappear for too long today. I don’t believe him for shit, but we’re still going to make sure you’re on time even if his ass isn’t. We’ve got a bit of a tight schedule with Rhosyn throwing in this curve ball.”

While the wolf side of me is still reeling from the proximity to Canaan, the human side of me can’t help but feel oddly at ease around the burly man.

With hands balled into fists and my poor battered bottom lip trapped between my teeth, I follow the pack’s second-in-command into the equally remarkable house interior. High ceilings, white-oak floors, and impeccably selected furnishings made of natural materials greet us, but it’s not the tasteful décor that nearly brings me to my knees. It’s the scent that is permeating every damn square inch of the space and invading my lungs.

Vetiver. Leather. Mint.

Earthy. Warm. Refreshing.

Addicting.

My entire being trembles down to the pieces that make up my very essence and my wolf rages war against her confinement as I greedily inhale.What is this? What is happening?

Shaking, lightheaded, and alarmingly clammy, I’m unable to force myself to move. I’m frozen in place in the foyer of this vast, delicious-smelling house, and that’s where Canaan finds me still standing when he realizes I’m no longer following him.

“Noa?” he asks, sounding cautious.

He probably thinks you’re losing it. Get your shit together and stop embarrassing yourself.

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