Page 101 of What a Wolf's Heart Decides

Concern entered her gaze. “Are you hurting?”

“Not right now.” That would change, though. It always did. He didn’t unleash his full power too often, so when he did it sustained him over a long period of time, letting him carry her from the forest and force her Turn when she was too weak to do it herself.

He’d pay for it later. His damaged body was a poor conduit, and that kind of power strained every muscle and tendon. He just had to hope he and Haley could make it back to his place before that happened.

She smoothed a hand down her arm, washing off the dirt from the forest.

“Are you hungry?” he asked. He didn’t wait for her answer as he retrieved the box of granola bars and bottled waters he’d found in the pantry. He went to the side of the bath and set everything down, then crouched and opened the box. “These are actually protein bars. They aren’t the best tasting thing in the world but they have a long shelf life.”

“That’s okay.” She waded to the edge, and he held his breath as her breasts bobbed in the water. Light from the stained glass window slanted over her, making her skin appear to shimmer and turning her nipples an even deeper pink.

He knew what was under the water, too. That her sex was smooth and bare, her intimate lips plump and pouty. He’d caught a glimpse when she Turned, and the image was seared into his brain.

Did she know how she affected him? Probably, she didn’t think about it. Werewolves weren’t prudish about nudity. Everyone saw each other in the buff on a regular basis.

But his body seemed to have forgotten that. His heart pounded, and sweat dampened his back. He rested his good knee on the ground and busied himself arranging the protein bars in a neat row. He placed the waters next to it, everything laid out just so. It was overkill, but it gave him an excuse to look down. Even so, her form filled the edge of his vision, offering tantalizing glimpses of water-slick skin and smooth limbs.

She took a bar and tore it open. Then she took a bite and closed her eyes on a sigh, murmuring, “Processed chocolate never tasted so good.”

He opened two more and handed them to her.

She accepted without comment, her mouth too full to speak.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, the only sounds the gentle lapping of the water and her crunching the protein bars. She ate like she was ravenous—which she almost certainly was. Shifter metabolism demanded a lot of calories. When he worked long shifts at the hospital he locked himself in the attending physician’s overnight room so he could eat without anyone noticing he consumed six or seven meals a day.

She polished off the third bar and placed the wrapper on the side of the bath. “You should eat, too.”

He shook his head. “Not right now.”

There was a beat of silence. Then, voice low, she said, “The old wolf who died. Was he a friend?”

“His name was Joel. And, yes, he was a friend.”

She put a hand on the edge of the bath, her fingers inches from his knee. “I’m very sorry.” She hesitated, and when she spoke again she seemed to choose her words carefully, like she didn’t want to say the wrong thing. “Max always says Alphas feel loss differently than others. That losing one of his wolves is like losing a family member.”

“There is truth to that.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to remove a few layers of fatigue. “Mostly, I despise the waste of it all.”

“What do you mean?”

“Latency. No one knows why it happens.” He shrugged. “It’s a weakness in our genes, and I guess there’s wisdom in accepting that. But I struggle to feel wise when I have to snap a fourteen year old’s neck.”

She touched his knee, her slim fingers firm against his jeans-clad leg. “You did what you had to do. What no one else could do. That’s not wisdom, Bard. It’s bravery.” Her voice was urgent and fierce, and he got the sense she would champion him no matter what.

She had no way of knowing he didn’t deserve it.

In the same careful tone as before, she said, “You were able to calm him in the forest.”

He nodded. “I can do that when my power is up. Just as I forced your Turn.”

“What did you tell him? Before . . .”

“That I would make sure his parents knew he didn’t suffer.”

Tears filled her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Bard.”

It took him a second to speak but when he did words spilled from him. He found himself telling her things he never told anyone else. “It’s the hardest thing I do, telling the family. It never feels right. Probably because I’m the one who does the killing.”

Now she gripped his hand, her fingers tight around his. Water soaked through his jeans, but he barely noticed.

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