“A cure?” Wargism was biology, not a curse. They were born, not made. “Bessemer allows it?”

“An alliance with the Garza coven is no small thing.” Her chuckle was deep, sad. “Bessemer knows as well as you and I there is no cure, so he doesn’t see the harm. It puts the most powerful coven of witches in the southeastern United States at his beck and call in exchange for a few tests run on the stronger pack members each month during the full moon.”

“That’s why he would do the favor for Graeson?” I pieced it together. “He’s volunteered before and might again in exchange for the information?”

“Graeson was opposed to the deal, and he hasn’t changed his mind.” Her wrinkled lips pursed. “The testing is brutal, and we lost a wolf to a misfired spell last year.”

My confusion must have been obvious, because Dell stepped in to clarify.

“Cord plays guinea pig every other month. He lets the Garzas cast spells on him, drinks their concoctions, gives blood, takes injections. He’s had twice the magical exposure as the other wolves, but Miguel allows it because his wife has also been frequently exposed by his attempts to cure her, and he figures Graeson is a much safer bet for surviving his tests than Isabella.”

“Of course he has.” I glared at the wolf. “Do you have any sense of self-preservation?”

He swiveled an ear toward me.

“I’ll take that as a no.” I raked my hands through my hair. “Why didn’t you stop him?”

“Cam.” Dell laughed my name. “He’s the beta. No one stops him. No one tells him no. No one tells him he can’t do a thing he wants to do.”

“Until you,” Meemaw added.

“Until you,” Dell agreed.

Unable to resist, I massaged one of his silky ears between my fingers. “Maybe that’s the appeal.”

“That’s not it at all. What I should have said—” Meemaw rubbed her jaw, “—is that he never listened. There have been plenty of females who sought to tame him, and all of them failed. He didn’t respect them, didn’t acknowledge their opinions or heed their warnings.”

“He listens to you.” Dell shook her head. “You can’t know how weird it is—was—to have him in my head day in and day out and feel his hesitation, his uncertainty where you’re concerned. He’s a good guy, but he acts like a big brother who thinks he knows best about everything. The pack is like a gaggle of younger siblings that he protects the best way he knows how, even if it means stomping on their opinions and rights as he goes.”

I found myself nodding along. “The last part is him to a T.”

The wolf snapped at me, sliding teeth over my skin without drawing blood.