Page 78 of What a Wolf's Heart Decides

He clenched his fists at his sides. “Watch your tone, Miss Michaels. You’re still a wolf, and I’m still an Alpha.”

She was too angry to stop. “What are you going to do, spank me?” The second she said it, an image of him paddling her ass popped into her brain. Desire curled low in her belly, and her nipples tightened. She bit the inside of her cheek, inwardly cursing her traitorous body. Trying to have an argument here.

His growl vibrated the floor. “Keep acting like a stubborn child and I just might.”

A light bulb went off in her head. “Is that what’s bothering you? The difference in our ages?”

“No.”

“Yes, it is. You think I’m too young for you.”

There was a long pause. Anger swirled between them, the air heavy with emotion. It was as if the room held its breath, the only movement the trailing shadows cast by the snowflakes falling outside.

Bard moved from the window, his shoulders stiff as he limped toward the foyer. “This conversation is over. I’m going upstairs.”

A fist squeezed her heart. “You can’t just walk away!” Not after what passed between them.

He kept going.

He was leaving.

Why did everyone always, always leave her?

Frustration climbed a hot path up her throat. “Coward!”

He froze, then slowly turned around. His doctor’s scrubs did little to muffle the menace that rolled off him.

She clapped a hand over her mouth. Calling an Alpha werewolf a coward was the verbal equivalent of swimming in a shark-infested ocean while wearing a raw meat bathing suit.

His good eye paled, the iris glowing an eerie blue. “Pack your things. I’ll take you to the airport in the morning.”

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly. She searched her brain for the right words—the formal apology that would undo the insult. “I d-don’t doubt your leadership. Or your strength.”

He spoke as if he hadn’t heard. “We leave at dawn.” He turned and limped forward again.

“Bard, please.” She went to the edge of the living room. “What happened tonight—”

“Was a mistake.” He whipped around, his snarl echoing off the walls and through her head, rooting her in place. Old memories rose to the surface.

“I’m sorry you can’t come to my party, Haley. My mom said she sent the invitation by mistake.”

“It was a mistake for Lizette to Turn you.”

“You’ll never be a real wolf, Michaels. Just a mistake.”

Bard’s face was an expressionless mask, the sensual lover replaced by a cold, unreachable male.

A wounded male, she thought. One who had almost certainly experienced the same kind of rejection she endured for so long.

Maybe their age difference wasn’t the problem.

Maybe it was something else.

She took a trembling breath. “It didn’t feel like a mistake to me.”

“Miss Michaels—”

“I don’t care about your leg!” She took a step toward him, one hand outstretched. “Or your scars.”

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