Page 97 of What a Wolf's Heart Decides

“Ah, here.” He grabbed the bundle at his side and shook it out, revealing a dark blue blanket. He settled it around her shoulders.

She grabbed the two ends and held them under her chin. “Thanks.”

“I’m sorry I don’t have anything else.”

“That’s okay.”

“You can wear my jacket once it dries. It got soaked on the walk here.”

She snuggled deeper in the blanket. “Okay.”

He gave a curt nod. He stayed in a crouch, firelight playing over his scars. She waited for him to offer details or an explanation of what happened after the forest, but he just watched her, his face unreadable.

She licked her lips. “Um. Where are we?”

“The seat of the Washington Territory.”

She must have hit her head again because that couldn’t be right. Wherever they were, it wasn’t his house. She would have remembered that fireplace.

He spoke again, his voice gruff—almost reluctant. “It’s my parents’ home. No one has lived here for years.”

His parents’ house? She looked around, but the fire made it difficult to see anything beyond the small circle of light that surrounded them. “Why did you bring me here?” His parents were dead. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be Alpha.

“It was closer than my place. The snow is really coming down. The roads are almost impassable, even on foot.”

Fair enough. She bit her lip as she mulled that over, but more questions buzzed in her mind. “Why don’t you live here?”

“It’s a big place. Lots of stairs.”

Her bullshit meter dinged. There were stairs in his other house, too. Still, she swallowed the urge to challenge him. Their uneasy truce was a fragile thing, and she didn’t want to break it. Especially when she didn’t have a stitch of clothing to her name.

His gaze drifted down the blanket, then he seemed to catch himself. He looked up and cleared his throat. “The pantry was pretty bare, but I scrounged up some granola bars and bottled water. You need the calories.”

Her stomach growled.

The ghost of a smile teased at his mouth. “Like I said.” He rose and extended a hand. “There’s no electricity in the house, but the conservatory has plenty of natural light.”

Conservatory? The only time she’d been in a conservatory was on a trip to New York City with Max and Lizette, when they took her to see the Statue of Liberty and the Botanical Gardens.

Bard had one of those in his house?

He waited above her, his hand outstretched. Giving an inward shrug, she put her palm in his and let him help her up. The blanket flapped open, and she quickly pulled it around her.

“This way,” he said, releasing her hand and moving into the darkness. It swallowed him whole, leaving nothing but the sound of his footsteps.

She hurried after him, the blanket clutched in one fist. A few steps in and she could see the faint gray outline of his body. The dim light didn’t seem to bother him, because he moved quickly for someone navigating in the dark. Either that or he knew the layout by heart. Probably it was the latter, especially if he grew up in the house.

As he led her through a series of rooms, her eyes adjusted enough to get a general idea of her surroundings. And it was quickly apparent the “house” wasn’t a house at all.

It was a bona fide mansion.

Cloth-draped furniture was placed here and there. In one room, bookcases stretched from the floor to the ceiling, with one of those fancy ladders that moved on wheels so you could reach the top shelves. She tried not to stare like a country bumpkin, but the place dripped with luxury. However, it was a dusty, neglected luxury. And the air had a strange heaviness to it. As she trailed after Bard, she struggled to identify the mood hanging over the cavernous rooms. It wasn’t sadness. Not quite. It was more like loss—as if happiness once reigned and the walls retained the memory of better times.

Just when she was ready to ask “are we there yet?” he brought her to a stone archway carved with the same vines and roses as the fireplace. He stopped and looked at her over his shoulder, his gaze going to her bare feet.

“Watch your step. Things are a little overgrown.”

She could only nod, because beyond the arch lay a scene unlike anything she ever witnessed in her life.

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