Hell or High Water (Gemini Book 3)

by Hailey Edwards

  “Don’t say it.” His hand crushed mine in an effort to anchor me by his side. “Don’t even think it.”

  I braced for a fresh wave of hurt, because I had to put it out there since it had clearly crossed both our minds. “You would all be safer without me.”

  “I can’t—” Jaw flexing, he tried again. “I can’t do this without you. We’re a team.” His fingers dug painfully into my wrist. “I should have asked before naming you alpha, I know that, but I was afraid you’d say no.” He noted the red marks on my skin and eased his grip. “I was scared you wouldn’t want this.” His mouth tipped down at the edges. “That you wouldn’t want me.”

  “How could you think that?” It boggled the mind. “You’re the most confident man I know.”

  “Not where you’re concerned.” His chin dipped. “I can want you, crave a life with you, shift the pawns until the queen is within my grasp, but I can’t make the final move. That’s yours, and it terrifies me.”

  “I’m what the big, bad wolf is afraid of?” I nudged his lip upward with my finger, forming a half-smile that didn’t stick. “I’m flattered.”

  “Ellis—”

  “No, give me a minute. Just listen. Let me get this out, okay?” I found somewhere else to look, because his reaction held the power to break me. “I’m messed up. I don’t fit in. Anywhere. I haven’t in so long I don’t remember how belonging feels.” I frowned, realizing that was no longer true. “Or I didn’t. Not until I met you.” His fingers stroked my arm, but I kept staring at his chest, at that spot that made my lips tingle when I kissed it, at the blood seeping under the bandage wrapping his ribs. “You’re bossy, opinionated, bark too many orders, think you know everything—”

  His hand dropped to his sides. “Is this supposed to flatter me back?”

  “—but you’re also the kindest and most thoughtful man I’ve ever met,” I continued, choosing to ignore his outburst. “You know me, the real me, and you’re still here. You’re still trying every day to win a heart I’m pretty sure has belonged to you for a lot longer than I just realized.” I laughed self-consciously. “Maybe you’re the one I should have asked before I…”

  His core tensed, breath held. “Before?”

  I braced my forehead in the curve of his neck so I could breathe him, so I didn’t have to look him in the eye. “I fell in like with you.”

  “I’m beginning to speak Ellisese fluently.” He tilted his head so his cheek rested against my hair. “That’s as good as an I love you.”

  I didn’t say he was wrong, and when I pulled back, it was to see the brackets around his mouth deepen until his face struggled to contain his smile.

  “Camille,” Abram called through the tent flap. “Visitation is over. He still needs his rest.”

  The sobering reminder of our present circumstances dimmed the light in his eyes, but it failed to extinguish the slow burn in my chest and southernmost regions when his fingertips brushed my hip.

  I was a coward, too chicken to show him my true heart. But down where dusty childhood hopes and faded grownup dreams lay fallow in the barren field caged behind my ribs, the seeds for love had sprouted. The ground there had been dry and cracked, and Graeson had toiled to break that hard outer crust to access the fertile soil beneath, but every sincere word and each thoughtful gesture nurtured the roots and sent them tunneling ever deeper into my soul, until there was no way to weed those seeking tendrils without ripping out the heart of me.

  “He’s awake,” I protested. “Can’t I stay a while longer?”

  “No, ma’am.” Abram popped his head inside, nose wrinkling as he took in the bandages stained with Graeson’s blood when they hadn’t been prior to my arrival. “He needs his rest, and the herbs I’ve given him will knock him out again soon. Besides, you two are too newly mated to be left unsupervised. Between the bloodlust and, well, lust, your pheromones are tricking Cord’s body into priming itself for action he’s not getting.” His eyebrows winged higher as he stared hard at the hand straining against the restraints to massage my hip. “I rest my case.”

  “Regaining consciousness is a good sign.” I turned a more critical eye on Graeson. “That means he’s healing, right?”

  “Cord is young and strong.” Abram raised his hands in a placating gesture. “He’ll make a full recovery. He needs a few days of rest, that’s all.”

  I stood and bent over Graeson, pressing a lingering kiss to his forehead. “Behave for the doctor.” I tapped the end of his nose. “I’ll see you in thirty minutes if you’re a good boy.”

  Smile going soft at the edges, he caved to a fierce yawn and let his eyes close. “Not if I see you first.”

  Abram chuckled softly and waved me toward him, away from the patient whose drugs had obviously kicked in if he thought that was a witty comeback. Gripping my arm, he led me a few yards from the tent. “A word of caution.” He jerked his chin toward Graeson. “This pack is small, and these wolves are loyal to Graeson, but there are more than a couple dominants in the bunch. Injured alphas don’t stay alphas for long.”

  “You said he was going to make a full recovery from this,” I hissed.

  “He will, and I’m not trying to frighten you.” He patted my shoulder. “You aren’t a warg, and you aren’t used to the posturing alphas do to keep their packs healthy. That’s why I haven’t been hard on you for wanting to spend so much time with Cord, even though it makes the other wolves antsy.”

  “That’s crap.” I shrugged off his hand. “No one would make a peep if Jensen was in that tent and Bianca was tending him.”

  “They aren’t alphas.” He sighed and tucked his hands into his pockets. “The pack needs to see you spending less time with Cord, not because you don’t care, but because you’re confident he will recover and soon. They need to see you’re not concerned, that they have no reason to be worried either. It will settle them.” He leaned closer. “Dominance fights start in a few hours, and the last thing you want is for one of these wolves to get it in their heads they’re alpha material.”

  Magic tingled in my veins. “A move against Graeson is a move against me.”

  “You can’t interfere with a dominance fight unless you want him disqualified.” He shook his head. “He would lose alpha either way in the shape he’s in now.” Voice pitched low, Abram hammered home his point. “There was magic in that blade. Fae origin is my guess. The others don’t need to know that, not right now, not with everything that’s happened tonight. Not when there will be blood spilling here soon.”

  I bit my lip until I tasted pennies but nodded that I understood.

  Abram raised his hand like he might try patting my shoulder again, but the aborted gesture turned into a wave as he left me alone with my thoughts and returned to Graeson since being a healer gave him a pass to stake out the tent all he wanted.

  Huffing out an irritated breath, I tamped down my jealousy and focused on his advice.

  Right now, I had the goodwill of the pack. According to Moore, each member had their reasons for leaving the Chandler pack. Whatever they were had made aligning with a rogue dominant and his fae mate look good by comparison. I had known those things, of course, but Abram’s somber delivery made me think the reason we had an excess of dominant wolves was because these wargs were on Bessemer’s shitlist too.

  It made sense to me. In retrospect, knowing what I knew about Graeson’s tendencies to nurture the ones who needed him most while also having a skewed perception of who those people might be, that he would choose other dominants causing friction to take under his wing in an attempt to hold them all together.

  The six wargs who left Georgia to follow Graeson had proven they were willing to skirt an alpha’s laws. They had also proven they were willing to take the punishment for their actions. Did that absolve their initial rebellion? Was their behavior a product of an instinctual loyalty to Graeson they were helpless to defy as their wolves aligned themselves with a more dominant alpha? Or were their actions the misguid
ed but well-meant byproduct of wargs who thought they knew best, like Graeson?

  The former would explain why Bessemer let the others go without a whiff of confrontation—even the heavily pregnant Bianca. Had the tradeoff for peace been worth the sacrifice of a pup? Granted, with Bianca being a half-blood, Bessemer might have bet on the child being born unable to shift.

  A cold lump settled in my gut as Abram’s confidence gnawed on my overburdened conscience, and I groaned until the noise turned into a frustrated growl.

  All this time I’d assumed that Graeson handpicked the people who came with us. That he’d offered the likely ones a choice and those brave enough had taken him up on his offer. Not once had I considered that he might have cobbled together the misfits and troublemakers and offered them refuge with us to spare them from life under Bessemer’s rule.

  The stubborn man with a heart too big for his own good might have excised the cancerous tumor in the Chandler pack only to absorb the infection into ours.

  For once I took comfort in an absolute truth: Graeson did nothing without a reason. These were the wolves he wanted. Broken, dangerous, twisted or otherwise, this was the pack he had pieced together. He had presented me with the fully assembled jigsaw, sealed with Mod Podge and suitable for framing.

  Now I had to trust that Graeson was more than an intriguing set of tattoos, and that he hadn’t bitten off more than our wolves could chew.

  * * *

  Borrowing my she-wolf’s keen nose, I trailed the sour notes of bitterness and regret straight to Theo. I found him slumped in Aunt Dot’s recliner, toying with a short remote, one of five, taken from the ruler-straight line up on a side table at his elbow.

  “Hey.” I reclaimed my spot in the kitchen to avoid crowding him. I was learning it wasn’t wise to corner wounded animals. “I should have told you we’d had trouble.”

  “You think?” He plucked at the rubberized buttons with his fingertips. “What happened?”

  “We lost a wolf tonight.” Recalling Jensen’s pride at learning his child would shift made my heart ache. “A pregnant female shifted and killed her mate while under Charybdis’s influence.” Glossing over the details of Jensen’s death did nothing to stop the images from flashing through my mind. “She’s currently on lockdown in my trailer.”

  “And your wolf?”

  A week ago I would have snapped that Graeson wasn’t my wolf, but I had since grown a possessive streak. “Graeson was attacked by the same woman. She magicked a ceremonial blade with a nasty spell and used him as a pincushion. It stunted his accelerated healing abilities, but our pack doctor says he’ll make a full recovery in a couple of days.”

  “A ceremonial blade,” Theo mused. “Makes sense. There’s bound to be latent power buzzing around in there with all the blood it’s tasted, right? Assuming you’re right about how Charybdis harvests energy, he might have warped those magical remnants to fuel his spell.”

  “I hadn’t considered that.” The ceremony had been one of joy, for us, but I didn’t know the dagger’s origins. I wasn’t sure it didn’t come with baggage that might overlay ours. “We’ve been working on the assumption he requires negative energy, but maybe there are several flavors and that’s just his favorite.”

  “Happiness and joy are powerful but fleeting.” His jaw flexed. “Grief and regret are just as potent, and those feelings tend to linger, fester. Mix in a healthy dose of thirst for vengeance and guilt, and you’ve created an emotional Molotov cocktail.”

  I cocked my head in his direction. “I don’t remember you being this smart.”

  “No one does.” He snorted. “You can’t outshine a supernova, right?”

  “You mean Isaac.” Sibling rivalry between the brothers remained alive and well it seemed.

  “I don’t mind that he’s the favorite.” I made a choking noise, and he backtracked. “I don’t mind it much. Anymore.” He shrugged. “Living away from the caravan, in places where I’m not measured by the Isaac Standard, helps.”

  “I can understand that.” Since he was being candid with me, I returned the favor. “That’s one of the aspects of my job that most appeals to me. Out there, I could be anyone. I’m a fixer who blows into town, handles business and then leaves. No strings. No pitying stares. Total anonymity. In and out and on to the next thing.”

  “We’re a pair, huh?” He laughed, but sadness tinged it. “I always thought you and Isaac should have been twins. Lori and me, we were the hellions. Always in trouble. Always looking for our next fix. You and Isaac, you guys were the Gemini ideal. You were both so freaking perfect I had to fling mud at your prim little dresses sometimes to piss you off, rile you up, prove to myself you were real.” His chuckle as I went board-stiff with shock rang with genuine amusement. “Maybe that did used to be us. Maybe now we’ve got more in common than I thought.”

  “Maybe you’re right.” His openness inspired me to bare a corner of my own soul. “I should have been upfront with you. You deserved to know about the troubles we’re having. I’m doing the best I can, and it’s not good enough.”

  “You’re protecting your…mate.” He seemed to struggle there at the end. “I get that. We’ve never been close, and this is all new to you. I get why you’d hold back. It’s fine, Cammie. I mean it.”

  “Maybe we should have gone after each other with claws bared years ago,” I joked. Mostly.

  “Mom would have been horrified.” His chuckle tapered to a sigh. “When I tell her this story, you understand that I’ll be the one who kicked your butt, right?”

  “Of course.” Pressure between my ears made my head pound.

  “You might want to see this,” Nathalie’s voice swept through my mind.

  That sounded ominous. “Are you still at my trailer?”

  “Yep.”

  “I’ll be right there.” I pushed to my feet. “I have to go check on the woman I was telling you about.”

  “The one who killed her mate?” Theo stood too. “I’ll go with you.” He hesitated. “If you don’t mind.”

  Olive branch extended and accepted.

  “I’d like that.” I grabbed an elastic band out of my pocket and twisted my hair into a high ponytail. “You should see what we’re up against.”

  Quiet reigned in the camp. Unable to stop my gaze from tagging the tent where Graeson rested, I managed to walk past without slowing down. Abram sat on a cinderblock at the flap, and he smiled when it became clear my walk wasn’t a social call. At least not for them.

  Warg hearing being what it was, I didn’t bother knocking. Nathalie would have heard me coming even if my weight hadn’t rocked the trailer when I climbed the steps.

  “Is Bianca all right?” I peered over her shoulder toward the bedroom. “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s not her.” She held out her hand, and a familiar phone sat on her palm. “It’s this.”

  “That’s Izzy’s phone.” Theo crowded the door behind me. “What are you doing with it?”

  “I found it in a box on the counter.” Nathalie bristled as she passed it to me. “It rang and rang and rang until I got tired of hearing it and came to investigate.”

  Arms crossed over his chest, he stared down his nose at her. “What did you find while you were snooping that was worth dragging Cammie out here?”

  Temporary allies we might be, but apparently Theo wasn’t pulling punches with anyone else.

  Vibrating with anger, Nathalie snarled, “Enzo Garza called.”

  Theo’s brow creased at the name. “Who?”

  Gut roiling, I clutched the cell like a lifeline. “How did he get Isaac’s number?”

  “No clue.” She shrugged. “He asked for Dell, so maybe she gave it to him.”

  Considering how Isaac was glued to his phone and Dell didn’t own one, I could see her giving out his number as her emergency contact.

  “What did he have to say?” After Abram admitting to being cut off, I assumed the rest of us would be too.

  “Hang on.”
She grabbed one of my notepads off the kitchen table. “I wrote it down so I wouldn’t mess this up.” She passed it over to me. “Enzo said a client paid for a divination that went sideways and thought we might be interested in Miguel’s prediction.”

  Afraid to read the words until I knew, I asked, “How much did this information cost us?”

  “Nothing.” A deep line formed between her eyebrows. “He said this was a favor for Dell.”

  The witch, who worked for the Chandler pack along with his brother, Miguel, had a sweet spot for my friend. But free information? Dell’s meemaw once tipped scalding coffee down her chest chortling at the idea of a witch giving anything away without cost, but that was before Bessemer exiled Dell from the Chandler pack. This might very well be the first of many breadcrumbs Enzo dropped in the hopes it lured her back to him.

  As invested as Dell was in Isaac, I could have told Enzo he had no chance with her, but after meeting him, I got the feeling he already knew.

  “Here we go.” I braced for the prophecy. “The one you seek is marked by the Huntsman’s thumb,” I read out loud. “Soon the Wild Hunt will ride. Soon the damned will be claimed. Soon the screams of thousands will ripen the air.”

  “The Wild Hunt?” Theo took the notepad and skimmed the note. “That makes no sense. The Wild Hunt is confined to Faerie, and Faerie is cut off from Earth. There’s no way for the hunt to cross realms. Besides, the Huntsman hasn’t unleashed his hounds on this world in ages.” He tossed the pad onto the counter, and it skidded. “I think this Enzo guy got his wires crossed. He can’t be that skilled at divination if he’s giving away free samples.”

  “The Garza brothers are the real deal,” I assured him. “Enzo has a soft spot for Dell. I doubt seriously his brother has any idea he’s passed on this information.”

  Theo made a thoughtful sound but didn’t elaborate.

  “I appreciate you letting me know.” I tapped Isaac’s phone against my chin, drawn from my musing by the shuddering exhales coming from the bedroom. “How is Bianca?”