Page 102 of What a Wolf's Heart Decides

“I’m a Healer,” he said. “It’s in my DNA to help, not hurt.”

She squeezed his hand. “That’s why you’re a doctor.”

“It’s part of it.” He ran a thumb down the scar that bisected his cheek. “I got this when I was twenty years old. I won my challenge but I lost my vision and my leg. And I spent the next ten years feeling sorry for myself. It was Joel who finally knocked some sense into me.” Memories surfaced, and Bard smiled as the old wolf’s lecture rang in his ears. “He told me I was wasting my gifts. At first I thought he was talking about Healing, but he meant it in a broader sense. I couldn’t hunt or run anymore, but I could walk. I had two good hands.”

Haley’s eyes sparkled. “So you went to medical school.”

“College first. I was thirty years old and a fish out of water.”

She laughed, and a dimple appeared in her cheek.

His stomach did a funny little flip. How had he never noticed that dimple? Then realization swept him. She’s never laughed like that before. At least not around him.

Her laughter died down, but her smile stayed. She had beautiful teeth, straight and white. He never noticed that before, either. Studying her now was like discovering a new country.

Their gazes held, and he found himself saying, “We should get you out of the water before you wrinkle.”

“All right.” She gave an easy agreement, her gaze direct and somehow knowing.

He got to his feet without breaking eye contact. “I’ll get your blanket.” As he reached for it, she put her palms on the edge of the bath and pushed herself up, exiting with the wolf’s ease and grace. Then she stood before him, water sluicing off her sleek body.

“Aphrodite rising from the foam,” he heard himself say.

She shivered as water puddled around her feet.

He rushed forward and wrapped the blanket around her but kept the two ends in his hands. For some reason, he couldn’t let go. Not just yet. The result was that he held her in something of a cocoon, her body swaddled against his.

“What does that mean?” she asked, her gaze searching his. “What you said about the foam?”

Faint surprise rippled through him. “Aphrodite? Goddess of . . .” He swallowed. Their conversation was going in a dangerous direction. “Well, goddess of a lot of things.”

Pink stained her cheeks. She ducked her head, and for the first time he sensed she was embarrassed. “I feel like I should have known that. Unlike you, I never went to college.”

A fist squeezed his heart. Of course she hadn’t. She’d been a latent and a foster. In their world, she’d had no future. Why waste college on someone who wasn’t going to live long enough to use their degree?

“You could still go,” he said. “You’re young.”

She lifted her head, her smile faded but still visible. “I don’t know what I would study.” She lowered her voice, as though she confided a secret and someone might overhear. “I was something of a bad student.”

A laugh caught in his throat. “I don’t doubt it. You have a serious problem with authority.”

She rolled her eyes. “Only when overbearing Alphas are involved.”

“You think I’m overbearing?”

“Not at all.”

He gave a nod. “That’s what I—”

“I know you’re overbearing.”

He threw back his head and laughed.

After a second, she joined in. For a few moments, their laughter echoed off the glass walls and ceiling. When he caught his breath, he lowered his head and found her smiling up at him.

“Ah,” he said. “There it is.”

She tilted her head. “What?”

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