Page 117 of What a Wolf's Heart Decides

In the water, blood spattered across Bard’s glowing face.

“But the boy was unstoppable. Magic made it so.”

The scene unfolded as if in slow motion. Mouth stretched on a scream, Bard drew back an arm.

“None could stand against him.”

The wolf released the leg and lifted his head, his fur matted with blood and bits of flesh.

Sabine’s voice lashed like a whip, each sentence a loud snap over the roar of the water. “His victory was guaranteed. No matter what happened, the people would follow him. And they would never question his authority. He could never be unseated. As long as the magic held, none would challenge him.”

The water’s roar grew.

“MAGIC MADE A KING.”

The scene sped up. Young Bard punched into the wolf’s chest. Face suffused with light, he wrenched his arm back, a beating heart in his fist. For a second, the wolf was motionless, his jaws open like he might swallow Bard whole. Then he lurched sideways and crashed to the ground. Clutching the heart, Bard threw his head back and roared at the moonlit sky.

“But,” Sabine said, and her next words repeated, overlapping each other and echoing around the conservatory. Making the roses shiver.

Magic has a price.

Magic has a price.

Magic has a price.

In the water, the triumphant Bard lay propped on one elbow on the grass, his left leg at an odd angle. Blood covered his face and seeped from his torn jeans, but he didn’t seem to notice. Glow pulsing around him, he lifted the heart into the air.

Lightning forked over the bath again, then a watery Sabine emerged from the forest, her braids like a thousand snakes writhing around her head. Her black gown shimmered in the night, the train dragging over the blood-soaked ground. She stopped at Bard’s feet and regarded him with amber eyes the same shade as the glow that surrounded him.

Her red lips moved.

His eyes widened in his handsome face. He said something, but the roar of the water snatched the words away.

The witch continued to speak, her eyes wide and terrible.

The heart in his hand started to glow.

Sabine’s voice sounded again, the echoing words matching the movement of her lips in the water. “Magic has a price.”

In Bard’s hand, the heart grew brighter and brighter, until the glow was so intense Haley had to narrow her eyes. The water glowed, too, and steam rose from the surface.

“Magic has a price.”

The heart exploded. In the water, Bard’s head jerked back. He collapsed on the ground, a hand clapped to his eye. Blood seeped from under his palm. The black-clad Sabine watched him for a long moment. Her lips moved again, although Bard didn’t seem to hear. Then she turned on her heel and walked away, her gown slithering through the grass behind her.

In an instant, the scene disappeared. The water went still and the roaring stopped. Sunlight flooded the conservatory.

The force holding Haley’s gaze captive released, and she stumbled back, her temples throbbing.

Sabine turned from the edge of the bath. She might have traded her black gown for ski gear but she was no less menacing. Power snapped around her, and her eyes glowed with the same eerie light that had surrounded Bard in the water.

“You see now,” she told Haley. “Bard Bennett is no Alpha. His power comes from a charm.”

On the ground, Bard drew a deep breath, his chest making an ominous sounding rattle. “Not a charm. A curse.”

Sabine looked at him. “Human words. You know there is no difference, wolf.”

The throbbing in Haley’s temples intensified, but she shoved the pain aside and raised her voice. “You’re a liar.”

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