Page 17 of What a Wolf's Heart Decides

His voice dropped to a growl. “Two.”

She ducked and shot forward, scrambling into the SUV.

The door slammed after her with a muted thud, enclosing her in expensive leather. Heat blasted her face, shoving her hair back. Almost unconsciously, she relaxed into the seat. Warmth seeped into her back and bottom.

Heated seats. Rupert was living good.

The driver’s side door opened, and cold swirled into the car. Rupert folded his large body into the seat, making leather creak.

She leaned away until her shoulder brushed her door. Aside from Remy, he was the biggest wolf she’d ever seen.

He paid her no attention. His jaw clenched as he put both hands under his left leg and lifted it into the car. Then he gripped the steering wheel with his right hand and used his left to shut his door. When this was done, he released the wheel and let his hands drop. His shoulders slumped, and he seemed to take a bracing breath. His patched eye was in profile to her, so it was impossible to read his expression.

She bit her lip. Maybe he was injured worse than he let on. She’d be grumpy too if she had to drag her leg around—and in the cold, no less. No wonder he’d thrown a hissy fit over her getting in the car.

Wind battered the car, rocking the big SUV back and forth.

Rupert took another deep breath.

Against her better judgment, a tendril of sympathy broke through her outrage.

He lifted a hand and touched his door.

Click. The sound of the locks engaging was like a gunshot in the quiet car.

Alarm jolted down her spine. “Ben—”

In a move too fast for her to track, he spun, seized her arms, and hauled her across the center console, dragging her body against his.

Terror robbed her of breath. Pinned against a hard chest, all she could do was stare into the narrowed eye inches from her own—the shade lightened to wolf blue.

“My name’s not Ben,” he said, his voice like gravel. “It’s Bard Bennett.”

She couldn’t speak. All her training deserted her, leaving her dangling in his grip like a helpless deer.

Like prey.

The blue eye didn’t blink. When he spoke again, the tips of his fangs flashed white behind his scarred lips. “You claim you’re a guest here, Miss Michaels.”

Her thighs pressed against his. Her breasts mashed against his chest.

None of that mattered.

The only thing that mattered was the enraged Alpha holding her prisoner. Because he was enraged. His wolf stared at her—the veneer between man and beast dangerously thin.

His voice dropped to an inhuman register. “I say you’re a trespasser. And maybe a witch.”

Witch? Confusion crashed over her.

He pulled her closer, to where their mouths almost touched and their breaths mingled. A deep, woodsy scent filled her lungs.

Despite her predicament, her brain latched onto it. Sandalwood.

His eye lightened even more. “Now give me a reason why I shouldn’t kill you right now.”

4

The female was beautiful.

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