Page 92 of What a Wolf's Heart Decides

I should eat some. She needed the hydration. But for some reason she couldn’t summon the energy to lower her head to the ground.

Her vision blurred, and a high-pitched ringing filled her ears. A wave of lassitude swept her. She needed to rest. Her head dipped toward the snow. It was cold but, oddly enough, she didn’t feel it as much now. Maybe she’d grown used to it.

Rest. Just for a minute. Yes, that’s what she needed. Her legs shook, and she started to sink into the snow.

A muffled shout reached her.

Bard. His voice was unmistakable.

The sluggish feeling evaporated. Adrenaline pumped through her veins. She leapt forward, her paws kicking up snow. She hit the forest at full speed. The shout had come from directly in front of her, so she charged straight ahead, leaping over fallen logs and ducking under evergreen branches laden with snow.

Go, go, go, go. The chant thrummed in her mind, pushing her to race toward the sound of Bard in distress. The latent killed Joel—gnawed his neck open like a sausage casing.

An image of a bloodied Bard, his clear blue eye gazing sightlessly at the sky, snapped into her mind.

She stumbled, caught herself, and kept going.

She had to keep going. There was no time to let fear distract her.

Another voice—a young man’s—sounded to her left. She skidded to a stop, chest heaving, all her senses on high alert.

The voice drifted toward her again.

And it was raised, the tone one of anger.

It was also close.

She ran, cleared a ditch streaked with muddy slush and dead leaves, and landed so hard she almost fell. Her jaws snapped together, making her skull vibrate like a tuning fork.

But that didn’t matter, because Bard and the latent stood about thirty feet away. They faced off like gunslingers in the Old West, their arms loose at their sides.

Ready for a fight.

Can’t let that happen.

She didn’t think. She just sprinted at the latent, her jaws open and ready . . .

“NO!” Bard appeared in her path, one hand outstretched.

It took everything she had to pull up short. She dug her claws into the ground, sliding so quickly her rear hit the forest floor as she rocketed toward him. Sticks and what felt like rocks poked at her backside, and she let out a yip as she shuddered to a halt.

Behind Bard, the latent growled. A line of shiny drool hung from his chin. His hood was thrown back, and his red hair stood up in sweaty spikes.

Bard angled his body sideways and stretched his other arm toward the latent. In a low voice full of power, he said, “Easy, son. She means no harm.”

Magic. There was magic in Bard’s voice. It rushed over her and wrapped around her, holding her in place. She couldn’t have moved if she wanted to. There was only one other Alpha who had that sort of power. Maxime Simard, ruler of the New York Territory. He could stop a charging wolf in its tracks through sheer force of will.

It seemed Bard had that power, too. And he was even better than Max at hiding it.

The latent’s body jerked, as if he fought invisible bonds. His gaze met hers, and while his eyes burned wolf blue, there was no intelligence behind them. He was totally, completely insane, his higher reasoning ability destroyed by the beast trapped inside him.

Her heart clenched. He was someone’s child, someone’s friend. Someone important to somebody. Ben’s voice drifted through her mind. “His name is Sam. He’s fourteen.”

Arms stretched in both directions, Bard turned an angry gaze on her. “What are you doing? I ordered you to stay put.”

Instinct pushed on her shoulders, urging her to duck her head. The Alpha was furious, and the only way to make it better was to show him submission. But she was locked in place, her rump on the ground and her front paws covered in dirt and snow.

The best she could do was whine, a pitiful sound snatched away by the wind.

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