Emerson winced as she struggled to her feet and walked, crouched over, to the bed, her hair hanging loose and obscuring most of her face.
Jordan fluffed the pillow before patting the old mattress for her sister to lie down.
“Thank you.” Emerson clasped her hand over Jordan’s and squeezed gently, her voice a mere whisper. “You don’t have to stick around.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
A brief smile appeared over Emmy’s lips, accompanied by a momentary spark in her eyes. “You just want to avoid your new partner.” A raspy laugh followed before Emerson laid her head on the pillow and closed her eyes.
Jordan shrugged, though there was no one there to see her. She scanned the cabin’s shelves from where she stood, not wanting to walk around and disturb Emmy, her gaze dropping to the bottom shelf that housed their mother’s beloved stories, including Emerson’s favorite, a book about four sisters titled Little Women.
Emmy liked to say that she was Meg, and Jordan was Jo—that even her name started with the same letters. She said Sydney was a young Amy, and that if Camilla was sweeter, she could have been Beth.
Jordan wondered if it would comfort her sister to read from the book. Before she could ask, Emerson swung her legs off the bed and rushed out of the cabin. Jordan hurried behind her to find her sister on her hands and knees, spitting and dry-heaving over a patch of grass. Emerson let out a wretched gagging sound and topped it off with a sob.
Everything twisted inside Jordan’s own stomach. An inferno blazed up her throat. It made her sick to see her sister suffering while Taryn went on as though she had nothing to do with it. The bitch would soon have one extremely pissed-off she-wolf to deal with. She better pray to the moon that Emerson recovered soon.
“I’m getting Tabor,” Jordan said. She’d heard rumors about his healing potions. Maybe there was something more he could mix up besides charcoal.
“No,” Emerson moaned. “Don’t leave me.”
“Then I’ll shift and howl for help.”
“No,” her sister said again. “Just… give me… some time.” Her words were garbled, as though they, too, were stuck inside her body, fighting to get out. She rolled over to sit hunched on the ground, staring straight ahead with a far-off look. Dark circles rimmed the lower half of her eyes.
“Can you shift?” Jordan asked gently.
“If I could, I would,” Emerson answered in a gruff voice.
She’d never spoken in that tone before. Rather than take it personally, anxiety grew wings in her chest, and Jordan didn’t say anything more. When Emerson eventually got to her feet and lay back down inside the cabin, Jordan sat right outside the door, back against the wood frame with her legs spread in front of her, ready to help her sister if she needed anything.
As the day wore on, Emerson’s condition remained the same. That was to say, she looked every bit as miserable as she had that morning. She couldn’t even keep down water.
At midday, Kallie came hobbling in from the direction of the den, carrying a mason jar with mashed food inside, along with a spoon. As soon as she noticed Jordan sitting on the ground, Kallie offered a grim smile. Relieved to see Kallie instead of Francine or Trish, Jordan got to her feet and waved.
Clutching the jar, Kallie shuffled over. The poor girl had a limp worse than Jager’s.
Kallie glanced tentatively at the open cabin door. “How is she?”
“She can’t keep anything down, not even water.” A familiar pain squeezed Jordan’s stomach as she shared the words aloud.
Head lowering, Kallie glanced at the jar in her hands. “Hopefully these mashed turnips will stick with her. I cooked them nice and soft before crushing them.”
Emerson couldn’t even keep down water, which made it unlikely, but perhaps enough time had passed for her sister to stomach bland food.
“I hope so, too,” Jordan said. She thought Kallie would make a good Beth from Little Women with her caring and kindhearted nature. Jordan led her inside the cabin, where light, steady breathing greeted them from the corner of the room. “Oh good, she’s asleep.” Jordan motioned for Kallie to follow her back outside. Once they’d rounded the corner of the structure, away from the open door, Jordan whispered her relief. “She hasn’t been able to sleep all morning. Leave the food with me, and I’ll make sure she eats as soon as she wakes up.”
“I can wait, too,” Kallie said.
Jordan shook her head. “There’s no reason for two of us to stay here. Emmy needs quiet and rest. I’ve got it covered.”
Kallie’s head dropped as Jordan took the jar and spoon from her hands.
Obviously, she wanted to stay, but Jordan knew her sister wouldn’t want nonfamily around when she awoke.
Kallie had never been the type to insist, so she moved with staggering steps toward the path leading back to the den. “I hope she gets better soon,” Kallie said before reluctantly staggering off into the trees.
Jordan could hardly blame Kallie for wanting to stay. She had to be going out of her mind with boredom, sequestered in the den among the mated shifters and their families. It’s not like she had a mate of her own for company or support. In all likelihood, she’d remain single for the rest of her life, surrounded by happily mated wolves. Life could be cruel, and it had dealt Kallie an especially harsh blow.
Shortly after Kallie left, Emerson woke up. She spooned the mashed turnips into her mouth slowly, eating hunched atop the bed. After finishing two-thirds of the contents, Jordan felt hopeful that Emmy would keep it down, but soon after, her sister leapt out of bed abruptly and barely made it outside in time to regurgitate the food.
Jordan hurried out after her to find Emerson with tears cascading down her cheeks.
“Make it stop,” she moaned. “Please make it stop.”
“You need to shift, Emmy.”
“I can’t,” Emerson cried. “I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.”
Desperation, frustration, and sympathy all swirled together inside Jordan’s gut. Why can’t she shift? Is she trying hard enough?
“I don’t know what to do,” Jordan said, wringing her fingers.
“Help me back inside the cabin,” Emmy croaked in raspy words.
Jordan clutched her sister’s arm and guided her back to bed.
“Hello?” a female called from outside.
Emerson’s eyes expanded in panic.
“No,” she said, gripping Jordan’s arm. “Don’t let her see me.” Emerson dove onto the bed and turned her back to the door.
Jordan hadn’t recognized the voice, but once her sister was on the bed, she thundered to the door to block whomever stood outside.
Long, red hair screeched into view. Jordan hissed through her teeth and folded her arms across her chest. Gina’s face was etched in worry—probably because she and her friends realized they’d poisoned the wrong shifter.
Dark smoke clouded Jordan’s vision.
“I should rip your throat out where you stand, but I wouldn’t want to upset my sister’s stomach more than it already is.”
“Taryn says she didn’t push you into the river.”
“This isn’t about the river.” Jordan sneered.
Gina’s gaze pushed past Jordan to the door, as if she wanted to get to Emmy, when her sister clearly didn’t want to see the she-wolf.
Jordan took a step to the side, positioning herself squarely between Gina and the door. The shifter clutched several sprigs of small creamy-white blossoms in her hand.
“What’s that?” Jordan demanded, even though she already had a good idea.
With furrowed brows, Gina glanced at the blossoms in her hand as though just noticing them.
“Meadowsweet for Emerson’s stomach. If you let me fetch a pot from inside, I can brew her a healing tea my mother used to make.”
Jordan laughed gruff
ly. “Do you honestly think I’d let you or any of your friends give my sister something to ingest after that poisoned squirrel? I’m not letting this one go. If the council doesn’t take action, I will.”
Gina’s teeth clenched. “What are you talking about?”
Jordan huffed in disgust. She couldn’t tell whether Gina was putting on an act to cover her friends’ tracks or if she was truly clueless. After updating the redhead on her friends’ nefarious activities, Gina’s face turned red, and she fisted the meadowsweet, crushing the flowers in her hand.
“You’re nuts if you think Taryn or Janelle would do something so horrible. Here.” Gina thrust the meadowsweet at Jordan, who kept her arms folded and narrowed her eyes, but didn’t take the herbs. “Fine,” Gina sniped. “Go gather your own. Bring four sprigs to a boil in a small pan filled with a third of water then take it off the heat and allow it to infuse for a bit.” She turned on her heel and stormed away.
Jordan frowned. Meadowsweet tea wasn’t a bad idea. If only Kallie would come around again, she could ask her to gather some of the herbs from the den’s garden. Jordan chewed on the inside of her cheek. When she peeked inside the cabin, Emmy’s back was still turned, and she looked like she was sleeping. Jordan didn’t want to wake her by shifting and howling for someone to come, nor did she want to leave her alone. In the end, she sat on the ground outside and let her sister sleep.
Afternoon trailed into early evening, and though the summer months stretched the sun into longer days, Jordan’s internal clock told her dinner was not far off.
Sasha and Tabor were the first to arrive at the cabin.
“Still the same?” Sasha asked, eyebrows furrowed.
Jordan gave a forlorn nod.
Tabor rubbed his elbows and jerked his head around somewhat nervously. “I memorized a spell earlier that could bring her some relief.”
Hope lifted inside Jordan’s chest.
“Not a chance,” Palmer’s voice boomed as he rounded the cabin.
How long had he been lingering in the shadows? Jordan wouldn’t have put it past her father to sneak in from the woods and listen in before making his presence known to the group.
He planted himself in front of the cabin’s entry, his chest and face lifted, as unreasonable as a pile of mountain rocks. “I don’t want you performing any of your sorcery on my daughter.”
Jordan scoffed at that, twisting around to face Tabor. “Do whatever you can. I don’t care what methods you use.”
“Easy for you to say.” Palmer huffed.
Nostrils flaring, Jordan spun around to glare at her father. “You’re right. It is easy to make a decision that would alleviate my sister’s suffering. You might even call it a no-brainer.” She thumped her forehead in frustration.
Ever pragmatic, Sasha cleared her throat and stated, “The decision is Emerson’s.”
“That’s right. Emmy decides. Not me, and certainly not you,” Jordan snapped.
A groan from inside quieted them momentarily.
Palmer’s eyes narrowed. “You’re making her feel worse with your harping.”
“She was sleeping peacefully until you arrived,” Jordan shot back. She’d actually spent most of the day vomiting and dry-heaving, but Palmer didn’t need the details.
“There’s only one way to find out,” Sasha said, pushing past Palmer. “Emerson, Tabor has a spell he can try to settle your stomach and purge your body of toxins. There is no guarantee it will work, but he’s confident there aren’t any negative side effects, either. The choice is yours.”
“Do it,” Emerson said without a moment’s hesitation.
Palmer barreled in, followed by Jordan and Tabor.
“Emmy, don’t,” Palmer commanded.
She lifted her head, staring at her father through tears in her eyes. “I’m dying, Papa.”
Palmer sucked in a breath, his body shaking slightly. He hurried to her bedside and placed a hand on top of Emerson’s head and began patting her.
As though she were a dog, Jordan thought bitterly.
“You’re not dying,” Palmer said. “I know it may feel that way, but you’ve just got to get this thing out of your system.”
Sasha made a sound of disgust deep in her throat. “She’s had the entire day to get it out of her system. Time to try something new.”
Palmer jerked his head around. “That’s not your decision.”
Planting a hand on her hip, Sasha said, “You’re absolutely right. It’s your daughter’s, and she gave her consent.”
A vein bulged in Palmer’s neck, and his jaw tightened. “She’s not in her right mind. Therefore, it’s up to me to decide.”
“She’s ill, not mad,” Sasha answered patiently.
A scream burned up Jordan’s throat. “Moon above! Shut up already, Palmer! She made her decision. Get out of the way, and let Tabor help her.”
“I’ve had about enough of your attitude, young woman. If your mother could see the way you talk to your father—”
Jordan’s growl exploded, drowning out the rest of Palmer’s words. “You dare talk to me about Mom? You dare?” she bellowed.
Palmer’s eye twitched.
Tabor cleared his throat uncomfortably.
Though she knew it wasn’t the time to go head-to-head with Palmer, if her mother could have gotten a glimpse of their present lives, she’d lose her mind to see that Palmer had taken two mates. It was bad enough that he’d claimed Francine mere months after Coreen had been killed by vulhena. Francine the hell-bitch. Well, Palmer had gotten what he deserved.
“How about the two of you take your argument outside while Tabor tries his spell on Emerson,” Sasha suggested.
“I won’t allow it.” Palmer’s footsteps thundered across the floorboards. He planted himself in front of Emerson and faced the group with arms folded and eyes narrowed.
Movement from outside caught Jordan’s peripheral vision. Raider ducked down to enter the cabin. His eyes scanned everyone inside before asking, “What’s going on in here? I could hear your voices from twenty paces away.”
Palmer’s arms tightened, his muscles cording into hard lumps. “Tabor tried to do magic on my daughter.”
Huffing, Sasha turned to Raider. “He did no such thing. He merely offered to perform a spell that could bring Emerson relief, and she accepted.”
Raider’s brows furrowed. “If she accepted, then what’s the problem?”
With those words, Jordan felt herself warm up to Raider. Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all. At least he saw reason, unlike Palmer, whose arms lowered, crouching as though he might shift and attack anyone who breathed in Emerson’s direction. The idiot thought he was protecting her, when his stubbornness was only prolonging her suffering.
“I think we should take this up with the council.”
Jordan groaned in frustration.
“This isn’t a matter for the council,” Sasha said in her high-handed way.
“Sasha’s right,” Raider said. “From where I stand, the matter is already settled.”
Color splotched over Palmer’s face like a nasty sunburn. He didn’t move, but his body shook, as though he was restraining himself from leaping forward. The animosity he’d shown Jordan, Tabor, and Sasha was nothing to the scathing glare he shot Raider.
“Your concern should be for my daughter; not for what Sasha wants. Sasha already has a mate.” Palmer spit out the last sentence.
Raider, usually so sedate and unreadable, flushed, his neck muscles straining beneath his shirt. The whites of his eyes were striking in the cabin’s dim light. When his nostrils flared, a shiver crawled down Jordan’s spine.
With slow, deliberate words, Raider spoke in a clipped voice, “My concern for Emerson is exactly why I think Tabor should help her. I’d want the same thing for any member of our pack.” After speaking, he s
tormed out of the cabin, pausing in the doorway only to say, “If anyone needs me, I’ll be in the glade.”
With her heart pounding inside her chest, Jordan experienced a brief moment of understanding for her younger sisters’ infatuation with the shifter. Raider had a striking presence and a tone that undeniably left goose bumps in its wake.
They all stood staring at one another, momentarily speechless. Sasha folded her arms across her chest deliberately and shot Palmer a piercing glare, her look mirrored by Tabor. Lucky for Palmer, the half-breed wizard showed remarkable restraint, especially after her father had insinuated that Raider had feelings for Sasha. Not everyone was a depraved horn-dog like her dad, but Palmer appeared incapable of comprehending anything else.
Bickering felt second nature to Jordan; silence made her squirm.
In the end, Emerson saved them all from a never-ending standoff. “I can wait until tomorrow,” she said, propping herself onto her side.
Palmer stepped back as though giving her room to breathe.
“You don’t have to wait,” Jordan said.
“Maybe I’ll feel better in the morning,” Emerson offered weakly.
Palmer nodded eagerly. “I’m sure you will, Emmy. All you need is a good night’s rest.”
Jordan bristled at his empty words. Emerson’s illness had nothing to do with needing rest. If she’d been poisoned, no amount of sleep would rid her of the toxin. Time might, but Jordan didn’t like leaving anything to chance, not when there were other options. She’d hoped Emerson had expelled whatever junk afflicted her body, but that didn’t appear to be the case.
“Francine is preparing you a nice, wholesome broth,” Palmer continued.
“That sounds good,” Emerson said flatly.
“Yes, and wasn’t that thoughtful of Kallie to prepare baked turnips for you? She insisted on bringing it herself. Sweet girl, that Kallie.” Palmer shifted to Jordan and narrowed his eyes slightly, as though suggesting that her behavior was the opposite of Kallie’s.
“Very thoughtful,” Emerson murmured.
“You sound tired,” Palmer said gently.
Obviously, Jordan thought with annoyance. How would Palmer feel if he’d puked his guts out all day?
Mating Games Page 7
