Page 78 of Primal

A low, steady rumble vibrates through him. Quiet but undeniable.

A purr.

He’s purring.Because of me.

No.Forme.

The sound ripples through me, reaching some long-buried, long-silent part I didn’t realize was still listening. Something locked deep inside me opens its eyes and stretches. The warmth of it is immediate, like sunshine on a frozen winter morning. My own wolf, trapped and quiet for too long, stirs with elation. She recognizes this. Recognizeshim.

I move slowly, fingers tracing the space between his eyes. His lids flutter closed, breath catching in what sounds almost like relief. I glide over the fuzzy points of his ears, and they twitch under my touch, the reaction pulling a small smile from my mouth before I can stop it. It’s not a forced smile, one I feel like I have to fight for. It’s real.

My hand moves down, fingers sinking into the thick fur of his scruff. I can feel the rhythm of his heart beneath all that muscle and strength. It’s steady, content.

And as I sit here, touching him—reallytouching him—I realize something I didn’t expect.

I’m not hurting.

The heat that flourished from his first rumbling purr has spread, the warmth pooling into all the crevices I didn’t realize were also hollow. The cold retreats. The ache loosens its grip. The constant weight pressing down on my thoughts eases just enough to let me breathe. For the first time since the clearing, I don’t feel broken. I don’t feel gone. I feel here. Present.Alive.

I can breathe and it doesn’t feel like a task. Doesn’t feel like I have to earn it.

Tears slip down my cheeks before I know they’ve started, they sculpt paths down frozen wind-chilled skin. I don’t try to stop them. I don’t wipe them away. I just let them fall, like a symbol of my pain leaving my body.

He lifts his head, like he can sense the shift in me, the quiet way I’ve come undone. His nose twitches, no doubt scenting the salt from my tears, and without missing a beat, he leans in and licks them from my face.

I jerk back slightly, caught off guard. The sound that escapes me is something between a yelp and a laugh. It sticks in my throat for a second, but then another one follows, softer this time, a little unsteady, but genuine. It’s my first true laugh since the clearing, and it feels good.

He watches me, pulling back just enough to meet my gaze. Then he lets out a soft, questioning whine before leaning in again, this time pressing his face into the curve of my neck.

My heart skips a beat when he inhales deeply, breathing my scent in directly from the source like he’s trying to drown himself in it. Like he’s been waiting an eternity to do so.

I bring both hands up, sinking them into the thick fur along his neck, holding him there without a word while he breathes me in like he’s trying to memorize every piece of me.

Maybe it’s delusional. Maybe it’s temporary. But I let myself believe it. I stay still and let myself feel him against me. If this is what peace feels like—this warmth, this quiet, this stillness that doesn’t ache—I’ll take it. Even if it’s only for a minute.

I keep my hands moving, slow and steady, stroking through the thick fur along his neck and shoulders, down the side of his broad back. Every part of him that I can reach, I touch. My fingers sink into warmth and softness, anchoring me to this moment and to him.

He stays quiet, except for that low, rumbling purr. It never stops. It vibrates against my cold skin, seeps into my heavy bones, and injects a quiet calm straight into my nervous system. A sedative wrapped in the shape of my would-be mate.

The exhaustion I’ve been fighting for hours, the one I longed for earlier tonight but had run from me, starts to press in. It dulls my senses, makes the edges of the world go quiet. I try to fight it. Not because I’m afraid, but because I don’t want to lose this. The weight of him pressed against my chest and shoulder. The heat he radiates like a furnace. The way his presence is stitching pieces of me back together just by existing near me.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, a soft vibration against my thigh. I don’t move.

It’s probably Lowri or Amara, letting me know that someone made it past the wards. That there’s been a breach. But I already know. He’s here.

Which I’m sure they already know, too.

But he’s also not a threat. At least not in the way they’re worried about.

Physical danger isn’t what he brings with him. Emotional damage? That’s still up in the air, a lingering possibility that nags the fuzzy parts of my fading mind. But I’m too tired to care right now.

He pulls back from my neck slowly, like he’s reluctant to leave. I feel the last brush of his breath before he steps back and pushes off the ground in a clean, quiet motion. He lands beside me on the lounge with barely a sound. He doesn’t lie down, not yet, instead he nudges me with is snout. Not roughly, not urgently. Just enough to make a point.

I get it.

I ease down until I’m lying back, limbs sinking into the cushion. He curls along my side with one large paw resting across my hips like a weighted blanket I never knew I needed. His warmth surrounds me, so full and steady that I almost forget what it feels like to be cold.

When he rests his head on my chest, something inside me exhales.

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