Page 29 of What a Wolf's Heart Decides

“You won’t.”

“Why not?” Why would he just send her home? It didn’t make sense. Unless . . .

Giftless. The thought slammed into her brain. Anger made her voice tight. “You don’t want one of your wolves mating someone without a Gift?”

Surprise flared in the blue eye. “That has nothing to do with it.”

“Then—”

“No one enters my territory without my permission, Miss Michaels.” His face hardened, and his good eye lightened. “And I most certainly did not give you permission.”

The hairs on her nape lifted. All her life she’d heard how anal Alphas were about protecting their borders. He might not have Hunters or a Beta, but Bard Bennett was clearly just as zealous about guarding his territory as any other Alpha wolf. The beast peeking out from his eye told her that much.

Still, something didn’t add up. Someone had invited her to Washington. And someone convinced Max it was okay to send her. Max might be the most powerful Alpha in the country, but he respected his peers. He would have never put her on a plane without Bard’s permission.

She licked her lips. “The letter the Ruperts sent . . .”

“I don’t know anything about it. But I guarantee I’ll know by morning.”

And heads will roll. The threat hovered unspoken in the air.

She shivered. “Max thought you knew. He wouldn’t—”

“As I said, I’ll get to the bottom of this. You’ll stay here tonight. We’ll speak in the morning.”

Her stomach chose that moment to let out another loud growl.

The black eyebrow went up again—which was better than the intense glower from before. “The kitchen is right around the corner. The fridge has everything you need to make sandwiches. There’s also some chicken and pasta if you don’t mind warming it up.” He flicked a look at the laptop. “I’d show you myself but I have a lot of work to do.”

“That’s okay.” She couldn’t picture him making her a sandwich anyway.

He gestured behind her. “Your suitcase is there. The guest room is just off the landing on the second floor. Do you think you can manage? The house isn’t that big.”

“Of course.”

“All right, then.”

For some reason, the abrupt dismissal made her nerves fire up. Maybe because she was well and truly staying in his house. Eating his food. Sleeping in his bed.

She bit the inside of her cheek.

“Miss Michaels?”

“Y-Yes?”

“Goodnight.”

Oh. Right. She stood. “Okay. Well, goodnight.” She turned on her heel and went to her suitcase. The space between her shoulder blades seemed to burn. Was he watching her, or was she just being paranoid?

Maybe he was right. The sooner she left Washington the better.

The suitcase’s telescoping handle wouldn’t extend. She gripped it with both hands and yanked. Pain shot through her knuckles. Before she could stop it, a pained gasp escaped her.

Bard’s voice was sharp. “What is it?”

Damn. She kept her head down as she tugged at the handle. “Nothing. Just . . . damn . . . this . . . thing.”

“Here,” he said just behind her.

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