Page 24 of What a Wolf's Heart Decides

Bard’s voice rumbled. “That won’t do you any good here.”

She looked up, her hand tightening around the phone. “What do you mean?”

He gave her a look, giving her a glimpse of his scarred face and hard mouth. “Look around you. There’s no signal in these mountains.” He faced the road. “Your gadget just became a paperweight.”

Gadget? In her mind’s eye, she envisioned chucking the phone at his head. Sure, she should have realized she couldn’t get cell service in the Cascades, but did he have to be such a dick about it?

He continued looking straight ahead, apparently unaware of her phone-meets-head fantasies. She stuffed her gadget in one of her coat’s inner pockets. So far, he’d been nothing but gruff and impatient toward her.

And now he expected her to spend the night with him? With no way to contact anyone from home?

Her gaze fell on his arms, then traveled up to his shoulders, which looked like they’d taken out their share of door frames.

Heat blasted her cheeks. Thank goodness for the darkness. It shielded her from his view and gave her an opportunity to study him undetected. Alpha or no, she didn’t trust him.

Between his size and his scars, he was an intimidating male.

Oh, and there was also his inexplicable insistence on sniffing her neck to determine if she was a witch.

She gave him another covert look under her lashes.

Seriously, what was his problem? There were witches in the world, sure, but they were an uppity, insular sort. And unlike the wolves, the great magical houses were happy to do business with humans—for a price. Their leaders accumulated wealth and power by selling spells and curses to desperate humans and the occasional shady government. Since werewolves did everything they could to stay hidden from the human world, the witches didn’t see them as a threat. If anything, they held werewolves in disdain.

So why would Bard Bennett threaten to kill her for being one?

The memory of his hands gripping her and pulling her close—and then his hot breath on her neck—rushed through her mind. He hadn’t hurt her. Frightened her, yes, but he hadn’t harmed her.

And then, for the briefest moment, it had almost seemed like he . . . relished her scent. When he turned his face into the hollow beneath her shoulder, his heart rate slowed and a sigh lifted his chest.

She’d frozen, too startled to move. Against her will, a tingling warmth had built low in her belly. Over all of it, confusion reigned.

Until he released her. Then her wolf had roared to the surface, and her training kicked in. She’d swung her fist without thinking, and she’d been surprised when she actually connected.

Judging from his reaction, he’d been surprised, too.

Her hand still ached. And that tingling sensation lingered.

A shiver swept her, and her stomach did another lazy flip.

“You all right?” Bard’s deep voice rumbled. Without waiting for her answer, he leaned forward and flipped on the heat again. Warm air blasted from the vents, blowing her hair.

She bent and scooped her hat from the floor, where it had fallen during their struggle.

“You’ll want to put that on,” he said. “It’s cold in the mountains.”

She stuffed it in her jacket pocket.

His mouth compressed in a tight line, but he didn’t say anything.

Satisfaction bolted through her. Maybe it was childish, but she’d rather freeze than follow his advice. Besides, he was an Alpha. If he was anything like Max, she needed to stand her ground. The second she gave an inch, Bard would steamroll right over her. That’s what Alphas did.

In that, at least, Bard was predictable. In other areas, though, he was downright baffling.

She dared another glance toward the driver’s seat. He still stared straight ahead, the eye patch making it impossible to read his expression.

What kind of Alpha didn’t have Hunters? Or a Beta? Without them, who acted as a check on his power? Who patrolled his borders so he was free to administer the day-to-day operations of the pack?

Who counseled him when he was forced to make tough decisions? He’d said he didn’t have a family, which meant he most likely didn’t have a mate. Leadership was hard. It was lonely.

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