Page 114 of What a Wolf's Heart Decides

But there was no time to analyze it now. Werewolf or no, Bard couldn’t survive catastrophic blood loss.

“We need to pull the glass out,” she told Ben. “So he can heal.”

“Okay.”

They looked at each other. Then they spoke at the same time.

“Should I . . .?”

“Should you . . .?”

He nodded. “I’ll do it. I’m stronger.”

No kidding. He knocked out his own mother with one punch.

She glanced at Bard’s ashen face, worry gripping her. “Hurry.”

Ben grasped the glass and took a deep breath. Then he jerked the glass from Bard’s flesh and flung it away.

Immediately, blood pumped from the wound. It flowed like a faucet, pouring down Bard’s back and quickly flooding the tile. Ben gasped and scrambled back, his knees sliding in blood-drenched glass.

Horror twisted through Haley as blood spread under Bard’s body and flowed away in dozens of little rivers. It snaked through the glass, branching out like gruesome tributaries that ran swiftly to the bath.

There was so much blood. Too much. And she didn’t have time to figure out why. She just needed to stop it.

She looked at Ben, who still crouched in the bloody glass, his eyes wide as he watched Bard’s blood flow into the bath.

“Ben!” She snapped her fingers and held out a hand. “Give me your shirt so I can staunch the blood! If we stop the bleeding, he’ll have a chance to heal.”

“He won’t,” said a low voice.

There was a strange pulse—like a drop of water hitting a still lake. It rippled out, throwing Haley and Ben off balance. Sabine walked toward them, and Haley realized with a start that she hadn’t given Sabine a single thought after Ben stopped Glenna’s attack.

But it was impossible to overlook Sabine now. Her boots were soundless on the glass as she came to the spot where Bard lay. And she was . . . different. Her features were the same, but there was something about her that made Haley’s throat go dry and the fine hairs on her arms stand on end.

Sabine looked down at Bard, her face impassive. “Your efforts are wasted. He won’t heal.”

“That’s what you think,” Haley said, scooting closer to Bard. It was a lame comeback, but it was all she could muster when every instinct she possessed screamed that something was very wrong. Her heart pounded, and sweat dampened her temples. She wanted to stand up and shove Sabine away from Bard’s body—anything to get her away from him. But that meant leaving his side.

Not happening.

She put a protective hand on his shoulder and shot Sabine a glare. “He’s a Healer. He’ll be fine once he regains consciousness.”

Still gazing at Bard’s prone form, Sabine gave a heavy sigh. As if she mused out loud, she murmured, “Physician heal thyself.” She looked up, and her eyes glowed gold, the normally brown irises like amber set aflame. “I’m afraid he lost that ability a long time ago.”

For a moment, Haley couldn’t breathe. She was trapped by Sabine’s stare. And without understanding how or why she came by the knowledge, she knew she couldn’t look away unless Sabine allowed it. Fire could consume her, charring her bones to ash, and still she would be in thrall to Sabine’s stare.

As soon as the realization settled over her, it lifted. With its weight gone, she gasped. “What are you?”

Because Sabine was no latent. Power curled around her like a snake prepared to strike. Invisible tendrils licked over Haley, brushing her skin. At the same time, pressure pushed against her skull from the outside, as though something tried to get in.

Sabine put her head to one side, her smile almost kind.

Almost.

“Magic,” she said simply.

“She’s a witch,” Ben said. His face had drained of color, his expression dumbfounded. Which made sense. He’d known Sabine since he was a child.

---