“Force me to—?” I wasn’t a shifter, my soul wasn’t spliced with an animal’s, but I was capable of mimicking one or two aspects of another species for a short burst. Like when I’d used Aisha’s blood to borrow her claws, her strength and a touch of aggression. It’s not a thing I do on command, and after my first experience with the soothing warmth of the pack bond, not an action I would take lightly with a warg involved. Had Aisha not kept coming for my throat, I wouldn’t have given her the satisfaction of feeding off her magic to defend myself. “How does she know what I’m capable of?”

“The reason Bessemer isolated us from the pack was so he could take his time raking through our heads.” Her nails dug into her thighs. “We had no choice but to submit. He’s our alpha, and shutting down the bond meant Graeson would suffer.” Drops of crimson welled. “Bessemer knows you joined with us. He knows what you are. Everything Graeson learned about you Bessemer knows too.”

Crap. So that was the point Graeson had been meandering toward when the gray wolf interrupted us.

The violation of the alpha skimming my life’s history, gleaning confidences I had never shared with anyone but Graeson, made my skin chill with shame and tingle with fury.

The details of my personal life had made for pillow talk between the alphas.

“You’re not a warg. That type of connection shouldn’t have been possible.” Dell rubbed the wounds with her palm, smearing blood as they sealed before my eyes. “He must have wanted a firsthand accounting of what you’re capable of from someone he trusts before allowing you onto pack lands.”

“Can you sense him?” Warg politics were foreign to me. Bessemer had sent his mate to get bloodied in the name of curiosity? Was that same interest enough to warrant a front-row seat for the attack, or would he be satisfied sitting at home with his senses perked until I’d made my flickering connection? “Where is he now?”

She jerked her chin toward the imposing gunmetal wolf who stood like a king in the circle of flattened grass, gold eyes shining as he stared at me with hunger that made my skin crawl, and I realized I had made a mistake in assuming Bessemer would want to greet me as a man. His beast had superior reflexes and senses, all the better to assess me. Framed that way, I understood the breadth of the error in judgment I had made. I was thinking like a fae, and that might get me killed if I stayed among the wargs for much longer.