The Primal of Blood and Bone (Blood and Ash, #6)

by Jennifer L. Armentrout

I needed to find Reaver. Fuck my life.

“Come on in,” I muttered, pushing my temper down as I forced myself to gently close the door instead of ripping it off its hinges and beating Reaver upside the head with it.

Reaver was quiet, hopefully listening.

I waited for him to continue. He didn’t.

Reaver clamped his mouth shut. For about five seconds.

“Are you hearing anything I’m saying to you, Delano?” “I’m selectively hearing what you’re saying.”

He went from that fucker to the fuck in my book. Slight improvement.

“Patience is a virtue rewarded with unvirtuous acts.”

Tawny told me that you’re a viktor, just like Leopold,” I told him, and his jaw tightened as something crossed his features, but I couldn’t be sure what.

“I was wrong about Leopold.” Confusion flooded me. I started to pull back, but he held on, keeping me there. “He wasn’t who I thought he was,” he said quickly and quietly, and something about that tugged at a distant memory. “I never actually saw him until—” He cut himself off as he glanced at Lirian, whose gaze I could feel practically drilling into us. “Ask Tawny. She’ll explain. Understand?”

“He knows and sees more than he should,” he added after a moment. “But there are things he does not know and can only make assumptions about.” He paused. “Your father is one of them.” I frowned. “Which one?” “There is only one.” My brows rose. “Yeah, I know that. But I once believed—” “I know what you believed.”

“May I call you Poppy? Calling you Penellaphe is…awkward for me.” I blinked. “Why would it be awkward?” “His wife,” Lirian said in a tone that suggested he found what he was about to say foolish. “Her name is the same as yours.” “Your wife…” My eyes widened. “Is your wife…?” “Your namesake?” One side of his lips curled up, and his smile warmed his ageless features. “Yes.”

He smelled of the outdoors, like untouched woodlands and…bad life choices.

“You look like you’re about to faint.” “What?” His upper lip curled as he shot his gaze to me. “I’ve never fainted in my life.” “That would be a lie, sir,” Casteel said. “There was that time—” “Shut up.” Kieran’s eyes narrowed. “That didn’t count.” I glanced between them, curious. “What didn’t count?” “Nothing,” he muttered. I turned to Casteel. “If you answer that question,” Kieran warned, “I’m going to break one of your bones to find out if I can heal it.” Casteel mouthed later to me. A low growl rumbled from Kieran. “There will be no later.” Casteel smiled. “Of course not.” “I swear to the gods—”

“It’s so annoying when you two tag-team me,” I muttered. Casteel opened his mouth as what sounded like a choked laugh came from Kieran. “What?” I frowned, and then my eyes widened, my face heating. “That was not what I meant!” “Good. Because I think you like that kind of—” “Casteel,” I hissed. He winked at me. “That’s not as charming as you think it is,” I spat. Casteel laughed. “Liar.”

“It’s so nice not being the one asking questions,” I murmured. “Disagree,” Kieran grunted.

I lifted my hands to my lips, tasting…bone and ash. Ruin.

“No.” The frown increased. “I was somewhat focused on not caving to the overwhelming desire to level the entire city.”

For some reason, an image of Leopold formed in my mind—hair a rich, reddish brown and eyes as green as emeralds.

“As an adult would. It’s…hilarious that you don’t understand that.” Slowly, I lifted a hand and extended my middle finger. “Is this also hilarious?” “It’s real…adult-like,” he replied, his lashes lowering.

Casteel humphed as he stopped in front of the credenza, and the deep, closed-lip sound turned a dial deep inside me straight to bitch.

I took a deep breath and counted to ten. I made it to four.

“If that’s it, then he’s saying he was wrong about Leopold being a viktor.”

“If you think I don’t know what’s happening in there,” came Reaver’s voice, causing both of us to stiffen, “you’d be wrong.”

“You sure about that? I think you like staring at my dick.” Shaking my head, I stared at the canopied bed top. It was way too early— “That would be the wolf,” Reaver replied. “Not me.” Oh, my gods.

My head kicked back in surprise. I was…jealous. I knew it was irrational, but I didn’t take after her like Millicent did. I looked like my mother. And maybe my father. But when I thought about him, all I could see was Leopold’s face—

Your name wasn’t chosen by her. I sucked in a sharp breath at the sound of Leopold’s voice, and I blinked rapidly. “The goddess Penellaphe and I are very close,” Seraphena said. “And both your father and his brother spent a lot of time in her company. I think he may have had a boyhood crush on her.” She laughed softly, the sound light yet heavy. “She is your namesake, but he chose your name.” You were not named by the Queen. I named you after my…mother’s dear friend.

A tremor coursed up my arms as Leopold’s voice echoed faintly in my head. But that didn’t make sense. He wouldn’t have known about Seraphena’s friendship with Penellaphe. And he wouldn’t have named me. He wasn’t my father.

I tried to see Ires’s face, but I only kept seeing Leopold, which was strange because, as the years passed, I’d struggled to recall his features at all. But now? I could easily see the proud lines of his jaw and how his chin ended in a slight point. His broad and high cheekbones and pine-green eyes.

I didn’t remember seeing Ires before I went into stasis, and his features had transposed onto my memories of Leopold. But that also didn’t feel right. And why would Isbeth lie about being the one to name me? I almost laughed. Did she need a reason?

Something occurred to me then. Did Seraphena and Nyktos know about Malec and Isbeth’s son—the one Alastir had killed on Eloana’s orders? She had to. They were still awake then.