Page 95 of What a Wolf's Heart Decides

“It’s fine. For a little while longer, at least.”

Ah, yes. He’d taken the brakes off his power. So he could kill.

And it had cost him.

“You’re a good Alpha.” She slurred her words, but he understood because his gaze sharpened.

“I’m not.” He looked away, his face hard.

You are. She wanted to tell him, but she couldn’t summon the energy. It was hard enough drawing air into her lungs.

The snow fell more slowly now, fat flakes drifting down from the heavens. She stared up at the sky, where stars dotted a sea of inky black. It’s beautiful here. Why did he want her to leave?

Blackness crept over her vision. She sighed and gave into the fatigue pulling hard at the edges of her consciousness. But as she drifted off, she could almost swear she heard Bard murmur, “I don’t want you to leave, beautiful girl. But I can’t let you stay.”

17

She slammed out the door, her face hot from the tears building up under her skin.

They didn’t want her. Of course they didn’t want her.

“We think it would be best for you to live at the Lodge. The New York Territory is friendly to latents.”

That was how her foster father put it. Her foster mother hadn’t said a thing. She just sat beside him on the leather sofa, her lips compressed in a thin line.

She ran to her car—the one she bought after five summers of shoveling horse shit and helping little kids onto the ponies—and got in, her heart pounding after the “announcement.” In a way, the leather sofa was the perfect place for them to tell her. It predated her arrival at their home, and she was never allowed on it as a child.

She looked up at the house—a white colonial on a green hill. Quaint. Perfect for kids.

Well, the right kind of kids.

“Fuck you,” she muttered. Then she shoved the key in the ignition and started the car.

It wouldn’t start. She tried again, but the engine chugged a few times and went quiet.

Again. Nothing.

Again. Nothing.

On the hill, the house’s side door swung open and her foster father came out. He stared at the car for a second, then charged down the hill.

Panic gripped her. Hand shaking, she turned the key. The engine was silent.

Her foster father picked up speed. As he ran, he leaped into the air and shifted into a wolf—his transformation seamless.

Her heart raced.

He was nearly upon her now, his jaws stretched open, fangs dripping saliva. Somehow, he managed to speak.

“WE TOLD YOU TO LEAVE. YOU ARE NOT WANTED HERE.”

She shrank in the seat, throwing an arm up as he crashed through the windshield, his teeth aimed at her neck—

Haley bolted awake, fangs bared and fur standing on end.

Wait. Fur?

For a second, disorientation reigned. Then some of the fog lifted. She’d had a nightmare—or the nightmare. She only ever had the one.

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