Page 71 of Primal

I didn’t blame her for choosing Ashvale. I wouldn’t have blamed her for choosing anywhere Noa was going.

Yrsa tried to argue, throwing the weight of her alpha designation around more than I was willing to tolerate. With a low warning growl that told her to watch her tone around Noa, she’d adjusted appropriately. But she didn’t give up her cause, going on to claim she could protect her own daughter and that the borders were better fortified, thanks to the McNamara enforcers stationed throughout the territory.

A statement that made both Noa and me grimace.

The critical and disappointed look Siggy had sent me over Noa’s shoulder told me the young omega was more than aware what it is costing to have those extra guards. It also proved Siggy was just as fiercely protective of Noa as Noa was of her. It was endearing and made me oddly proud of my mate that she’s so easily able to bring people into her graces.

Yrsa kept pushing, saying Siggy would be better off in her own bed, here in the safety of her pack. But Noa stood up for her in a way I don’t think the alpha female had expected. Calm but unwavering, she told Yrsa it wasn’t our choice, it was Siggy’s.

Yrsa eventually relented.

Maybe it was Noa’s restraint, the way she never once raised her voice. Maybe it was that Canaan and Rhosyn backed her without hesitation, further proof of their fast-growing loyalty to one another. Or maybe, deep down, Yrsa knows what I do—that Siggy trusts Noa in a way that isn’t easily earned, in a way thatdoesn’t shift just because someone else thinks she should feel safe. She found her healing in Ashvale.

In Noa’s warm, gentle energy.

That’s where she feels safe.

And I can’t say I don’t understand why.

When Noa left, she looked up at me. Just once. Long enough to knock the air right from my fucking lungs. There was no anger in her expression, no hurt. Just quiet, tired resignation. It’s as if she’d made peace with something I’d yet to understand.

And I still don’t. The memory of it has been gnawing at me ever since she walked out and didn’t glance back at me despite the way I’d silently been pleading with her to.

Even now, with Canaan leaning against the wall near the busted bookshelf and Rhosyn perched on the edge of my desk—seriously, I need to get a damn couch or a couple of chairs in here—we’re trying to brainstorm alternatives to the alliance I’m desperate to burn to the ground.

And all I can think about is the look on her face as she left.

She’s my mate. That truth lives in every thought I have, every steady, stubborn beat of my heart. It’s imprinted into the marrow of me, undeniable and constant—Noa.

And seeing her today only confirmed what I’d figured out too late.

I will never claim someone else in her place. Not for protection. Not for peace. Not even to save my own damn life. Because as long as Noa is out there, breathing, existing, walking this world, there isn’t a single part of me that could ever accept another. There’s no version of this life, or the next, where I could stomach that kind oflie. My wolf would destroy them. And I, willingly, viciously, would destroy myself as well.

It’s a realization that came too damn late. A mistake so obvious in hindsight, I can’t believe how blind I was not to see it sooner. But it’s mine now, mine to bear the weight of and mineto fix. Because I will spend every breath from here on out trying to make it right.

To do right by her.

My sweet Noa.

Because the only mark I will allow to grace my throat is hers.

Just the thought of her teeth sinking into my neck, staking her claim, binding us in a way no diamond ring ever could, sends a low jolt down my spine. My cock stirs at the image, thickening with interest, straining against the confines of my faded jeans despite the company in the room. Inappropriate? No question. But fuck, it’s the first time in…shit, I can’t even remember, that it’s responded to anything that wasn’t coaxed by my own hand and a tired routine.

It's her.

And the mental visual of her breath on my throat. The brush of her soft lips. The scent of her skin—now sweetened with her awakening omega designation. The thought of her claiming me, fiercely, unapologetically, makes my blood burn hot in my veins, my body hungry in a way I don’t ever recall it being. I want to feel the sting of her bite and I want to feel her wrapped around me as I surrender to it.

Because I’ve never craved anyone like I crave her.

My father used to ask if there was someone special. Every time I came home from college, or during the years when I split my time between here and run the business with Rook, the question always came. And every time, my answer was the same.

I hadn’t found anyone worth noticing. My cock had always backed that sentiment up.

I spent those years brushing off offers like they were obligations. Rook, who was never shy with his own conquests, never let it go.“You turning down pussy is starting to feel like a cry for help,”he’d say, like I was defective.

But the truth was, it was easy. I didn’t want it. Didn’t crave what they offered. No matter how eager the attention, how warm the bed, it all felt empty. Mechanical. Jerking off in the shower was easier. More honest. Still is.

And I’m starting to realize it’s because it’s always been her. Whether I knew it or not, whether I remembered her or not. I think some buried part of me always knew who Noa Alderwood was meant to be to me. It mourned her in silence, even while staying fiercely, stubbornly loyal. Like some part of me—my wolf, my soul—was waiting for someone it couldn’t name but deeply missed.

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