Head Above Water (Gemini: A Black Dog #2) (9 page)

He’d befriended a water sprite as a young man, but she was gone now, and she hadn’t survived so long among wolves by giving away her secrets.

“Oh, it’s very real.” I had collected several and had yet to use any of them. “Thanking the fae is never a good idea. Avoid it at all costs.”

“Thanks for the tip.” He screwed up his face. “Didn’t take long to break that rule.” A curious expression crossed his face. “Does this mean I owe you a favor?”

Laughing at his wariness, I stirred my drink with a finger. “This makes us even.”

He returned to his food prep, back facing me, hauling out steaks and dashing them with spices. Watching him fascinated me. Where my family assaulted the kitchen, Graeson moved through it with practiced ease, comfortable in his space, revealing a new facet of his personality.

“You like to cook.” More than having a fancy preparation area, he knew how to use it.

“Wargs like to eat.” He popped a slice of zucchini in his mouth to illustrate the point. “With Marie, it was either learn to cook or accept I’d be driving into town to pick up chicken nugget meals for dinner every night until she was old enough to drive herself.”

I held my breath, expecting his fluid motions to stutter or his voice to catch, but his tone remained rich and amused. He was healing. It was a beautiful thing to witness.

“So,” he said casually, “I hear you’re going to Kermit.”

Right to the punch. “My, what big ears you have, Grandma.”

“You know how the pack bond works.” He made it sound like any eavesdropping on his part was accidental. “I can’t help what filters through.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Were you going to mention you were leaving, or was I going to knock on your door one morning and find you gone?”

Ah. Here we grappled with the root of the problem. “I would have mentioned it to you for the sake of my family.”

The knife in his hand thunked to the cutting board. “What about my sake?”

“I wasn’t going to ask for your permission, if that’s what you’re insinuating should have happened.”

Giving up on the vegetables he was slicing, he turned back to me and planted his palms on the bar top. “What has your panties in a twist? You’ve got that look in your eye like you’re spoiling for a fight.” He huffed. “What did I do this time?”

“You went home with Imogen.” I hadn’t meant to say it, was horrified as soon as the words left my mouth, but there was no calling them back.

He hung his head and shook it like he couldn’t believe I’d called him out on it either. “You don’t think much of me, do you?”

“She was creeping up your leg like a poisonous vine when I left you, and you went home with her.”

Funny thing about anger. It lubricated me until things I never would have said out loud to another man slid right past my filters.

“You left me to fend for myself.” His head lifted, expression cool and unreadable. “I thought you didn’t care she was pawing me.”

I jerked up my chin. “I don’t.”

“Ellis, you don’t get to throw down the gauntlet and then decide to pick it right back up and dust it off.”

“You’re supposed to be my mate.” He’d said it himself, that his current disagreement with Bessemer stemmed from confusion over how my talent interacted with pack magic. “Don’t you think what you did was disrespectful?”

“I walked a beautiful woman home who was having trouble with the word
no
.” Imogen’s tenacity didn’t appear to surprise him. “I did go inside. I drank sweet tea and chatted, and then I left once the glass was empty. I’m polite, not disloyal.”

Had Dell known that was all there was to it? Or had she retreated from that intimacy before getting stuck with mental images she couldn’t shake of a man she admired? She had assumed the worst because there was history between them, and I had too. Was it too much to hope both of us had underestimated him?

“That’s the problem.” I flipped the cap open on the squeeze bottle, snapped it shut. “We aren’t mated. If you want to be with Imogen—”

“Then I wouldn’t be here with you.”

Flip. Snap. Flip. Snap. “We aren’t real.”

He reached over and cupped my cheek in his warm palm. “You feel plenty real to me.”

The melting sensation in my chest left me scrambling for a new topic. “What is the selection?”

“It’s exactly what the name implies.” He withdrew and snaked his arms across his chest. “The top three wargs in a pack get one chance to pick their mate. There are laws about soul mates, but that’s a separate item. The most dominant wargs can bring home a mate of their choosing for inspection by the alpha. If he deems him or her worthy, the mating becomes official in the eyes of their peers, the new member is folded into the pack, and that’s the end of it.”

I got a bad feeling about where this was headed. “If the alpha doesn’t approve?”

“The pack member becomes a petitioner and the proposed mate becomes an aspirant. The aspirant then has to earn their title—their right—to stand beside their chosen partner.”

Earn by tooth and claw no doubt. “What happens if the aspirant fails?”

“The alpha grants the victor the right to claim the petitioner as their own.”

I waved my hand. “What victor?”

“The aspirant must secure rank within the pack. Dominance fights mostly. They are required to rack up an equal standing to the petitioner.” He blew out a short breath. “Should the aspirant fail, the warg who defeats them becomes the victor and has the option of choosing to claim the petitioner as their own
if
they’re of equal dominance.”

The interlude by the platform in the woods suddenly made a lot more sense. “Bessemer has named me an aspirant.” Graeson didn’t dispute the assessment. “That’s what Imogen meant. She’s going to challenge me, and when I lose, she’s going to claim you as her mate because she’s a high-ranking pack member.”

“That’s her plan.”

He sounded so calm about it while I wanted to poke Imogen in the eye. “You’re okay with that?”

“No.” Emotions cascaded over his face too quickly for me to parse. “I’m also not okay with you getting hurt. This isn’t your culture. These aren’t your laws. I won’t allow you to be punished to assuage Bessemer’s pride.”

I linked my hands in my lap. “You sound certain I would lose.”

The lack of faith shouldn’t have bothered me, not when I doubted I could win a fight against a mature warg female frothing to mate with the next best thing to an alpha, but he deserved better. Bessemer clearly prized viciousness and mean-spiritedness in women. That kind of mate would break Graeson. He was strong but emotionally raw. Saddling him with a woman who would pick him apart piece by piece in this stage of his healing process was a mistake. It wouldn’t take long for her to get through the meat to the bone.

He cocked his head, lips twitching. “You sound ready to fight.”

I didn’t dignify that with a response. “How do I get disqualified?”

“You throw a match.” His gaze dipped. “The winner claims her prize and you walk away.”

“Just like that.” A lifetime commitment cemented in blood.

“Just like that,” he agreed.

“That’s why you went home with Imogen.” It all clicked into place. No wonder Dell had sounded so grim. It wasn’t what he had done, but what he planned to do. “You think she’s most likely to win, the one people will expect to win, and you made a deal with her.”

“This isn’t your fight, Ellis.” He swept out a hand, indicating his home or the state or the pack. “You don’t want this.” He brought that same hand to his chest and thumped it. “Or this.”

In typical Graeson style, he didn’t ask my opinion. He assumed, because he had decided it was best for me, that I didn’t want him when even
I
didn’t know if I did. His instincts told him once that I belonged to him. What did that mean? I wasn’t a warg. I knew the lifemate bond wasn’t possible. But for him to give up on pursuing me in the span of a few days… It stung my pride.

How did I explain to Aunt Dot that I lost my man, who wasn’t really mine in the first place, in a fight? Like he was some sort of prize to be awarded to the winner. Which, according to Graeson, was exactly his place in this scenario.

Wishing my water was something stronger, I took a sip to give me precious seconds to string together a cohesive sentence that didn’t boil down to
grr
. “When is this fight scheduled?”

He pushed away from the counter. “It can wait until you and Dell get back from Kermit.”

I choked on my next sip of water. “Dell’s going with me?”

“A beta’s mate can’t travel alone, even as an aspirant.” He didn’t sound sorry about sending me a babysitter at all. “Besides, she worries about you. She’ll feel better if you’ve got backup, and so will I.”

“Will Bessemer let her go?” Aiding and abetting a fae seemed tantamount to high treason with him.

“We came to an agreement.” Muscles ticked in his jaw. “Please don’t fight me on this.”

“Okay.” I raised my hands in a gesture of peace. “I won’t.”

Dell was a willing donor, and her power was one I was familiar with harnessing. She would be an asset, and she made for good company.

Eyeing me like my acquiescence was some kind of trick, he resumed his food preparations, casting a wary glance over his shoulder now and again, but I only had eyes for the bottles of liquid flavoring.

What kind of man paid this sort of attention to a woman? What did those six tiny bottles truly represent?

I didn’t hang around long enough for people to learn what I liked. Most folks didn’t care to know.

The empty bottle Graeson set down looked worn, like he had been carrying it around in his jeans since the day he pocketed it. The label was faded and peeling as though he had worried it with his thumb while thinking. Of me? What did it mean that I would never see those bottles again without thinking of the ink-stained warg with ghosts in his eyes who had combed a grocery store and emptied a dispenser in search of my favorite flavor?

Such an insignificant thing, but not so insignificant at all.

G
raeson set
a small plate with a homemade brownie square and scoop of vanilla ice cream on top in front of me. Dinner was over, the steak devoured and the baked potato inhaled. I could barely lift my fork to take a bite, but when the chocolate hit my tongue, I moaned.

This right here was what made a man worth keeping, worth fighting for, I was sure of it.

“You approve?” He snapped the lid on the carton of ice cream, the only premade item on tonight’s menu.

“This is the best meal I’ve ever had in my entire life.” He deserved the compliment, and I had no trouble paying it. “Have you considered giving up pack life and opening a restaurant?”

His rich chuckle warmed me as much as the heated fudge drizzle. “No, but I’m flattered you have that kind of faith in my cooking skills.”

We finished the meal in silence, and when he offered me a hand, I took it and let him haul me to my feet. My palm came to rest over my stomach, which threatened to burst at the seams, and I winced inwardly at the thought of the long walk home.

Dropping to his knees, Graeson slid my boots onto my feet. I had discarded them at some point while trying to make room for more food. I couldn’t very well unsnap my jeans, so I kicked off what was most convenient. Not that it had helped me down that last rich, chocolaty bite. Sadly, I had no choice but to leave it on my plate.

I groaned when he jostled me while strapping me in, and he patted my thigh. “Regretting that second potato?”

I braced my hands on his shoulders. “I have no regrets.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” He pushed to his feet and scooped a plastic container off the counter. “Then you won’t mind if I purge my kitchen of temptation.”

“Are those the rest of the brownies?” My fingers curled with the urge to either grab them or swat them away, I wasn’t sure which.

“I would send the ice cream, but there’s not much left.” He pushed the brownies into my hands. “It would be mush by the time you got home with it anyway.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to keep some?” I shoved them back.

He dropped his arms, forcing me to hold the container, and patted his firm stomach. “I don’t want to risk losing my girlish figure.”

My eyes rolled, giving me a visual tour of the thick beams crisscrossing his ceiling. “I should get home.”

I had stayed later than I meant to, and Aunt Dot would wait up until I called. She might fake a yawn or muffle her voice, but I knew better. The odds were good she would have her nose pressed to the glass and the phone at her ear to make sure she didn’t miss any juicy goodbye-ing on our part.

“Do I get to know the reason behind all this?” We hadn’t accomplished much except enjoying each other’s company.

“I wanted to know how it would feel to pick you up and take you somewhere nice, just the two of us.” A rueful smile bent his lips. “This was as nice as I could manage under the circumstances.”

“And?” I gripped the plastic container until it crinkled. “How was it?”

“Perfect,” he said without hesitation. “Thanks for tonight. I need this so I’ll remember…”

“Remember what?” I prompted when he went quiet.

“Come on. It’s late.” He opened the door and nudged me past the threshold. “I need to get you home before Aunt Dot comes looking for me with a rifle slung over her shoulder.”

“She’s a Gemini,” I reminded him, not missing the fact he hadn’t answered me. “She’s all the weapon she needs.”

The warm night caressed my cheeks when we stepped outside. The scent of pine hung in the air, and the chirp of crickets blanketed the yard with comforting sounds. I gripped the rail with one hand and took my time crossing to the well-worn trail we had taken. Now that I was full and relaxed, I noticed there were no cars or trucks, none of the SUVs I knew the pack owned. The only transportation visible were a few Mule ATVs parked under porches and a pair of cherry-red go-karts snuggled on a flatbed compact, enough for one of the Mules to haul with ease.

I made it all of three steps before white-hot pain blazed up my left side. Holding the brownies in front of me, I glanced down as Graeson yelled. Thanks to the heads-up, I spun aside in time to avoid the second furious swipe of claws. When the dirty-brown wolf lunged again, I whacked it in the face with the plastic container, and baked goods went flying. A whimper escaped the wolf as Graeson reached me, and the standoff came to a standstill.

“You know the rules. You can’t interfere,” a darkly masculine voice intoned. “Let your aspirant face her challenger.”

“This is not what we agreed,” Graeson snapped. “Ellis isn’t prepared.” His gaze cut to the wolf, and disgust curled his lip. “Ambushing her in the dark was cowardly, Becca.”

“I was alpha last time I checked.” A tall man stacked with muscles stepped into the light cast by the cabin’s windows. “I stand as witness to the first challenge of the selection.” His moss-bright eyes gleamed with liquid gold. “If your aspirant is too weak to compete, she’s welcome to bow out now and save herself the pain and shame of losing.”

A quiver started in my gut, the first stirrings of fear. This was real. This was happening. No sooner had I learned about the selection than its first round slapped me in the face. The small wolf snarling under her breath glared hatred at me. I had no idea who she was, but I doubted it was coincidence she showed up at the same time as the alpha put in an appearance. This was a choreographed move, and it seemed I was the only one unaware of the proper steps.

“You don’t have to do this.” Graeson’s cold hands clamped down on my upper arms. “You can walk away.”

“I’m not a coward.” I covered his hands with mine. “You deserve more than this. You deserve someone who cares about
you
. Not your status in the pack.”

“Ellis, you know what accepting her challenge means.”

“Yes.” I wet my lips, well aware of what I was doing. Claiming him. The alternative? Losing him? Not an option. “It means all the brownies I can eat for as long as we both shall live.”

A softness warmed his eyes, and he nuzzled my cheek. “I’ll even throw in homemade ice cream for free.”

Sucking in a tight breath, I tried smiling at his joke. Mostly the mention of food and fighting made me want to vomit. “I’ll need your help.”

He understood and gripped my hand tighter. “Take what you need.”

The nail covering my right hand’s middle finger popped off as my spur emerged. I pierced his skin and braced for the snap of connection, my breath held in anticipation. I wanted it, craved it, and a drop of his blood thrust me into familiar headspace.

His presence was a brilliant warmth in my thoughts, his fury a broiling sea beneath his skin. Through the static hum of the pack bond, I identified one voice, one light that was somehow both heard and seen, that burned brighter in my mind’s eye than all the others combined. To me, Graeson was a creature of light, the mental image superimposed over the physical, and he was glorious.

My forearms stung as lush fur rippled down them. Practicing with Isaac had helped, because the magic splintered, shifting both my arms into thickly muscled wargish limbs. Blinking, I tried clearing the glare from my vision only to realize I wasn’t seeing things. My adopted pelt wasn’t the silver I’d expected, nor was it Aisha’s black or Dell’s golden blond. The hairs were platinum with black tips, a meld of all three.

“Are you sure this is what you want?”

Graeson was a whisper of strength amid the soul-crushing doubt churning my thoughts, his question exposing an insecurity I had never glimpsed in him. It humanized him and reminded me that at the end of the day, with his ego checked at the door, he was just a man. I had given him no reason to hope this relationship was what I wanted, because I hadn’t known myself until a slavering warg dared to stake her claim on what was mine.

“This is the rest of your life we’re talking about
.” I glowered at Bessemer.
“It’s worth fighting for. You are worth fighting for.”

An audible sigh passed his lips, and he bent his head, placing his lips at my ear. That heated brush of his skin solidified him, shook the sparkle from my eyes and allowed my vision to readjust to the darkness. “Sometimes I think all that’s holding me together is you, not the pack bond.
You
.” His warm breath tickled my throat. “Be careful. If Bessemer gets you killed playing his games, I’ll snap his neck.”

The violence of his vow thrilled me on a primal level—it must be the warg blood—and when I pulled back, his eyes were twenty-four karat. His wolf was riding him, making promises that quivered beneath his skin with the urge to shift. I gripped his arm hard.
“Don’t get yourself killed.”

“There’s that faith in me again.” A lazy smile curved his lips. “Do you trust anything about me outside of the kitchen?”

I didn’t dignify him with a response.

“I don’t have all night.” The alpha circled me and sat on the topmost step of the nearest cabin. “This won’t last long. Let’s get it over with so we can all go home.”

Having him at my back made my spine tingle, but Graeson flanked me, and I forgot about the alpha to focus on the bristling wolf in front of me. Here I was trusting him and without a kitchen in sight.

I flexed my hands, razor nails clacking, and that was all the invitation the she-wolf required. She darted in lightning quick and snapped at my calf. I swiped at her, but she danced out of reach. She repeated the move, and I missed again. The third time ended with thick laughter from the spectator behind me.

“Stop playing, Becca,” he chastised, sounding not at all peeved by her advantage.

The truth hit me like a two-by-four to the forehead. Becca was wearing me out. Either she knew I couldn’t hold on to the magic for long periods of time, which Bessemer could have skimmed from Graeson, or it was an instinctive warg defense to even the playing field for smaller predators like herself.

Confident in her speed, she charged me, teeth snapping. This time I was ready. I braced my feet apart and swung my arm outward like a baseball bat, connecting with her jaw and startling a yelp from her. She walked off, shaking her head to regroup.

Mentally, I was doing the same.
“What do I have to do to win?”

“Knock her out,”
Graeson answered a beat later.
“When she stops getting up, it’s over.”

Becca wasn’t as spry or as ruthless as Aisha had been. She circled me once, searching for vulnerabilities, before a low growl from Bessemer told her to quit stalling and get on with it. Bunching her hindquarters, she leapt for my throat. I flung up one arm at neck height to block her jaws from clamping down on my vital parts and threw my shoulder behind a punch that sent her flying. She hit the dirt on her back and lay there a moment, breaths coming fast and heavy, eyes shut. For a second I thought she might not get back up, and I relaxed my stance.

“Is it over?”
I sent the question to Graeson.

Cheek mashed to the ground, Becca cut her gaze toward me as if she’d heard me. She blinked once, twice, then panted through the effort of forcing her legs under her.

“How much longer can you hold your shift?”
was his answer.

“I don’t know.”
I was fine now, but soon my limits would be stretched.
“She looks ready to drop.”

Movement caught my eye. Becca on the prowl.

“This isn’t right.”
I sent to Graeson
. “I shouldn’t have to hurt her to end this.”

“No. It’s not, but she won’t hold back. You can’t either. Not if you want to win.”
His fists strained at his sides.
“Finish this before it goes too far.”

A leaden weight settled in my gut. We’d passed
too far
when she drew first blood. Becca didn’t deserve what I was about to do to her, but she could heal in a day what took me a week to mend. I couldn’t let her wear me down until I made a deadly mistake. The fight was on. Unlike Graeson’s Imogen proposal, this match wasn’t rigged. No. That wasn’t true. This late-night brawl had Bessemer’s name written all over it.

Becca’s next attack was the least graceful yet, and I steeled my heart against what I had to do. Her small stature and the boost of having beta blood fueling my magic allowed me to withstand the impact of her furry body slamming into my chest hard enough to empty my lungs. Muscles quivering from the strain, I clutched her ruff and held her out at arm’s length while I severed her Achilles tendons, one after the other, with the tapered edge of my claw.

Frantically kicking her legs, she transformed her agony into a heartbreaking howl that raised bile up my throat.

I set her on the ground as gently as I could with my muscles screaming and magic ebbing then backed away in case she caught a second wind. Breaths regulating, I spread my hands so Bessemer saw the crimson slicking them. “Are you satisfied?”

“Are you implying that I enjoy seeing a female of my pack reduced to this?” He gestured toward Becca’s shaking form. “I don’t.” He stood with fluid grace. “Her blood is on your hands, not mine.”

A touch from Graeson anchored me enough to notice our tiff had attracted an audience. Most were female, sizing up the competition, I guessed. My gaze collided with his, and I wondered how I would survive the selection if new challengers tapped my shoulder at every turn. Were there rules? One fight each night? Two? Three?

I might have asked if the pack bond were more solid, but it was faltering. I sensed him, but I didn’t hear him, and I didn’t want to risk pushing out thoughts Bessemer might overhear.

The rough pad of his thumb stroked over my pulse, calming me. “Come on.” He didn’t shy away from taking my hand in his, despite the fur and the blood. “I’ll walk you home.”

Nodding, I held on tight and hardened my gaze to a killing edge before raking it across the crowd.

Respect brightened several faces. Calculation sharpened others.

I had to wonder what weaknesses I had exposed and who would be the first to exploit them.