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He let me go, letting his arms fall to his sides, defeated. “I’ve been trying to tell you for days, Tempest. You won’t listen. You refuse to hear.”
“I’m listening now. Right now. Do you know what’s causing this sickness? Do you know how to stop it?”
He took a long breath. His eyes searched my face. Would he lie to me again?
“No,” he finally said. “I don’t know how to stop it.”
“But you’ve seen it before?” I asked.
“They won’t survive,” he said. “There’s no cure that I know of to save your family or the men and women of Wild Lake. What’s happening here? This place? There’s no coming back from it. Pat and Dr. Olivet are worried about the wrong thing.”
“What do you mean?”
“If a stronger pack comes here to take over, the same thing will happen to them. Wild Lake is cursed. Can’t you feel it?”
I took a step back. Lies. More lies.
“I’m not sick,” I said. “Neither are you. At least, no sicker than you’ve ever been.”
His face shimmered as it always did. The mirage. Anson. X. Then that in-between. It made me dizzy.
“What is wrong with you?” I asked. “Is it your magic that’s keeping you from catching what’s infected everyone? Or is it your magic that made them sick in the first place?”
The moment I said it, the horror of it bled through me.
“You!” I said, letting the rage come. I pushed him. Hard. Anson staggered backward, but stayed on his feet. I felt my fangs drop.
“That’s it,” Anson said, his voice dripping with venom. “Let her out. Let her tear me apart. I’ll take my punishment. Whatever I have to do to get you to understand.”
“Understand what?”
“I love you!” he snarled. “I fucking love you. I hate that I do, but there it is. You’re mine whether you like it or not, Tempest.”
I lunged at him. This time, I knocked him over. God. I could almost taste him. What it would feel like to rip him to pieces. To cut out his lying, betraying heart.
But he was Anson. Fully Anson at that moment. He looked at me with those brilliant blue eyes. A memory flashed of the last time I’d given myself to him. He’d been tender when I needed it. Rough when I needed it even more.
“I hate you,” I said.
“I know,” he said.
“Get up!”
“You’re never going to understand,” he said. “That part is my fault. You can refuse to believe me if you want. But I didn’t want to hurt you. I wasn’t trying to trick you.”
He was X again. Thick scars. One sightless eye. A trick. An illusion. But as I stared at him, a new horror filled me. Whatever he was, the part of him that was X, he was getting worse. His skin had become waxen and white. His chest hollowed out.
“Get up,” I said. I reached for him. The instant I touched his arm, he was more Anson than X. Strong. Healthy.
“We should go,” he said.
“Good. I need to help Pat. We have to get my parents and Jarred to eat something.”
“No,” he said. “You don’t understand. We should leave. It’s not safe for you here. I don’t know how much longer I can—”
“I’m not going anywhere. I’d rather die trying to save my family than go anywhere with you.”
“You might get your wish,” Anson snapped. He stormed down the hill toward the lake.
