What a Wolf's Heart Decides (Lux Catena Book 4)

by Amy Pennza

She sighed. Her fingers fell away from his face.

  He spoke, his voice hoarse, “Haley—”

  Her eyes fluttered shut.

  10

  Haley opened her eyes and saw blurry snow. A deep tremor ripped through her. Normally, the snow was so beautiful.

  Not this time. Her stomach clenched, and anxiety raced over her skin, making it feel too tight on her bones.

  She took a deep breath.

  Band-aids.

  Gaze on the snow, she frowned. Why did she smell band-aids?

  And why did the snow have lines all over it? As if someone had painted a grid over everything? She squinted, willing her eyes to focus.

  Wait. There was a grid. And that wasn’t snow.

  It was a ceiling.

  As soon as the thought popped into her head, sounds flooded her ears—as if someone had cranked the volume on the world. A steady beep, beep, beep was background noise over other sounds. There was a low, mechanic whirring along with the distant crackle of a voice over an intercom.

  Her vision cleared, revealing industrial white tiles speckled with tiny bits of black. The scent of Band-aids grew stronger.

  Hospital.

  She started to sit up. Pain shot across the back of her head like a white-hot laser. A groan escaped her, and she slumped back against a hard pillow, causing a whiff of antiseptic to waft around her nose.

  There was a metallic scrape, followed by the squeak of shoes on linoleum and a woman’s voice. “You’re awake!”

  Haley opened her eyes against the pain. A woman in blue scrubs slid a curtain back in place, then turned and breezed across the room. She went straight to a monitor mounted on a metal pole near Haley’s head.

  Alarm bells went off in Haley’s head. The woman was clearly a nurse—and a human.

  Danger, danger, danger. Werewolves weren’t supposed to visit human hospitals. Ever. It was something about subtle differences in their blood that threw red flags when subjected to human medical testing.

  Suddenly, being on her back made her too vulnerable. She gritted her teeth and tried to sit up again.

  “No, no.” The nurse waved her hands. “That’s the wrong way to do it. Here.” She pressed a button on the side of the bed. There was a soft whirring sound, then the bed lifted, putting Haley in a semi-reclined position.

  The nurse gave her an assessing look. “Better?”

  Actually, yeah. Haley rolled her shoulders. The ache in her head faded. “Yes, thank you.”

  The nurse nodded and turned her attention to the monitor. “One-fifty over a hundred,” she muttered, frowning. She looked at Haley. “Your blood pressure’s a little high. Doctor Bennett won’t like that.”

  It took a second for the last part to sink in. Haley stared at the woman. “I’m—” Her voice came out as a croak. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Did you say Doctor Bennett? As in Bard Bennett?”

  The nurse gave an encouraging nod, as if Haley had just solved a complicated math equation. “That’s right. It’s good you’re remembering things. We always worry about amnesia when someone takes a knock to the head like you did.” She pulled a pad of paper from her pocket and scribbled something. Then she reached up and grasped a bag of IV fluid, muttering under her breath as she fiddled with a little plastic tab attached to the tubing. “Normally, I’d take your vitals, but Doctor Bennett insisted I get him as soon as you regained consciousness.”

  Haley let her gaze wander down the tubing. It stretched from the bag to her left arm, where someone had placed a thin, clear bandage in the crook of her elbow. There was a blood pressure cuff on her other arm and some kind of clip on her index finger.

  The nurse kept talking as she punched buttons on one of the machines. “I’m actually surprised he agreed to do his rounds.” She glanced at Haley with an exasperated look. “He didn’t leave your side after he brought you in. He started your IV and everything!” She shook her head and dropped her voice to a disgruntled murmur. “The stubborn man wouldn’t even let us take x-rays.”

  X-rays? Haley dropped her gaze to her midsection, which was covered in a hospital gown and a thin white blanket. Just how badly had she been hurt? The moments just before the avalanche came rushing back. She’d been talking to Ben about his family and the horses. Then the blood had drained from his face, and he’d shoved her toward the path leading down the mountain.

  And then . . . What then? She strained, trying to remember. A dull ache spread along the back of her head.

  One of the machines let out a startled beeping sound.

  The nurse leaned over and tapped a button, then put a cool hand on Haley’s forearm. “Hold tight. I’ll get the doctor.”

  Haley tried to summon a nod, but pain rode her like a series of angry waves. Nausea thrashed in her stomach, and her mouth filled with saliva. The best she could do was rest her head gingerly on the pillow and choke out a gravelly, “Okay.”

  As soon as the nurse left, Haley ran her gaze around the room, taking shallow breaths through her mouth as the nausea receded. The nurse was human. And this was a human hospital.

  Which meant Bard was a . . . human doctor?

  Was that even allowed?

  “Haley.” The deep voice reached her at the same moment the curtain was flipped aside. Bard entered, the nurse on his heels. She gestured toward the beeping machines as they approached the bed, then spoke in a rapid, concerned tone.

  “She’s reading between seventy-five and eighty, and her heart rate is still tachycardic.”

  Bard limped to Haley’s side, his gaze roving over her face.

  Haley caught her breath. The grumpy, plaid shirt-wearing Alpha was gone. In his place was a tall, commanding man in blue scrubs and a long white jacket with a stethoscope sticking out of one pocket. Blue embroidery to the left of his lapel read “Bard Bennett, M.D., Emergency Medicine.”

  Yep. Totally a human doctor.

  Also, what the hell? Questions buzzed through her head, overriding the pain as she tried to understand how he was standing in a human hospital like it was no big deal.

  “Doctor Bennett?” The nurse peeked around Bard’s shoulder. “Do you think we should push atenolol or—”

  “No. Nothing right now.”

  The nurse’s eyebrows climbed to her hairline. “But—”

  “I’ll take it from here,” Bard said. Gaze still fixed on Haley, he added, “The car accident in Bay Four needs suturing. Could you do the prep and then assist the PA? I already called her.”

  The nurse looked between Haley and Bard, her features pinched and anxious. For a second, she locked eyes with Haley, and it seemed like she might argue.

  Haley held her breath. Didn’t the woman know an Alpha werewolf had just given her an order?

  But she couldn’t know. Bard hadn’t put any push behind the command. His wolf was out of sight, buried beneath the layers of whatever made him appear human. Some Alphas could do that—stuff away the essence of what made them super-predators in a species of predators. But she’d never seen anyone just switch it off.

  When the nurse continued to hesitate, he turned his head. The movement put his face in profile, revealing the eye patch strap that cut across his cheek and disappeared into his salt and pepper hair.

  Haley braced herself for him to say something rude.

  Instead, he spoke in a soft, reassuring voice. “It’s okay, Anna. I’ll take care of Miss Michaels.”

  The tension left the nurse’s face. She put a hand on his arm and said, “Of course you will.” Then she looked at Haley. “You couldn’t be in better hands. Doctor Bennett is the best we’ve got.”

  Bard’s scarred mouth twitched. “You flatter me, Anna.” There was disapproval in his voice, but also a warm undercurrent that said he liked the nurse and had an easy rapport with her.

  Wait. Someone had an easy rapport with him? How did that happen?

  The nurse gave his arm a playful slap, then she turned and went to the curtain. Before she left, she said, “I’ll g
et Bay Four set up. Let me know if you need anything.”

  “Will do,” Bard said, his gaze locked on Haley.

  The nurse disappeared through the curtain. Bard cocked his head, clearly listening as her footsteps faded. After a minute, his shoulders relaxed.

  Haley swallowed against a dry throat. “What’s a PA?”

  “A physician’s assistant.” He reached out and removed the clip from her finger. One of the machines next to the bed made a sound of protest. He punched a button, and it quieted.

  “What are you doing?”

  He leaned across her and undid the blood pressure cuff, the Velcro a loud rip in the otherwise quiet room. “Getting you out of here as quickly as possible,” he muttered, rolling up the cuff and setting it aside, his movements brisk and assured.

  “You’re a doctor.”

  “Yes.” He kept working, detaching various leads and wires.

  “Is that allowed?”

  He paused, the brow above his good eye arched. “Allowed?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  He just stared at her, arrogance and expectation stamped all over his face. Somehow, he was even more intimidating in his doctor coat, with his title sewn into the fabric.

  There weren’t any humans around, but she lowered her voice anyway. “We’re not supposed to expose ourselves to human doctors.”

  The arrogance in his face remained, but the expectation shifted to something resembling amusement. “I can assure you, Miss Michaels, I have no intention of exposing myself to any doctors, human or otherwise.”

  “That’s not what I—”

  “I know that’s not what you meant.” He bent and rummaged around in a little cart she hadn’t noticed before. When he straightened, he tucked a small white packet and a roll of what looked like tape next to her hip. “You want to know if I’m breaking the rules.”

  She nodded. Pain bloomed in the back of her head, making her regret the gesture.

  His one blue eye was steady. “You forget. In this territory, I make the rules.”

  Before she could reply, he turned and pulled a pair of gloves from a box on the wall. As he snapped them on, his mood seemed to change. His words grew clipped, and his jaw tightened. “But anyway, I’m not a doctor where you’re concerned. To you, I’m a Healer, and you’re damn lucky that’s the case.” He finished with the gloves and pinned her with a look. “If you were human, you’d be in surgery right now. That is, if you were lucky enough to survive at all.”

  Oh. Memories of Ben and the mountain trail flooded her. Avalanche. It had sounded like gunshots. Then sprinting, sprinting, her lungs burning. She hadn’t been fast enough. The snow had thrown her off her feet.

  “Your heart stopped,” Bard said, holding his gloved hands away from his body.

  What? She lifted a hand to her chest, as if her subconscious needed to make sure that all-important organ was still beating. “But I’m a were—”

  “Not an invincible one.” He bent and grasped her forearm, his touch gentle despite the firmness of his tone. “You’re lucky Rupert is as strong as he is. Even so, I’ve never seen anyone move snow like that.”

  Flashes of memory played through her mind. “Ben dug me out.”

  Bard grunted.

  “And you—”

  “Hold still,” he ordered. He undid the tape around her elbow, then pressed a pad of cotton against the crook of her arm and slid the IV from her vein. In fast, professional movements, he discarded the tubing, opened the packet, and swiped an alcohol pad over the wound. “Bend your arm.”

  She complied without thinking. Something about his tone made her body leap to obey.

  It’s his doctor voice. It wasn’t all that different from his Alpha voice.

  He picked up the tape and pulled out a long strip.

  “I don’t need a bandage.” She opened her arm and lifted the alcohol. The mark from the IV was already gone. “See?”

  “The humans will expect it.” He folded a wad of gauze in half, pressed it against the healed spot, then wrapped two lengths of tape around her arm. It was springy, like the vet wrap she’d used on horses to support the joints in their legs.

  The thought made Ben spring into her mind. Guilt flooded her. She looked up at Bard. “Is Ben okay?”

  He stopped in the act of pulling off his gloves. A muscle twitched in his jaw. For a second, it seemed he wouldn’t answer. Then, voice tight, he said, “He’s fine.”

  Doubt swirled in her head. “There was so much snow. It had to have hit him, too.”

  “Rupert’s a Stalwart.” Bard finished pulling off his gloves and tossed them in a trashcan. “His Gift saved his foolish neck.”

  Foolish? His tone was angry. And dismissive. For some reason, it provoked a sense of solidarity with Ben—along with a need to defend him. “He just wanted to show me the horses.”

  “I think we both know what he wanted.”

  She opened her mouth, then quickly shut it. Heat crept up her neck and into her cheeks. What could she say to that? That it wasn’t true? Ben had flat out told her he was looking for a mate.

  “He called you beautiful,” a voice in her head reminded her.

  The warmth in her cheeks ratcheted up a notch. Dammit, why did she always have to blush like this? Lizette had joked about taking her to a male strip club on her birthday just to see how long Haley’s face could stay beet red without her passing out.

  Birthday. Her heart sped up.

  Bard frowned. “What is it?”

  She looked at the now-quiet machine next to the bed. Oh. Right. He didn’t need a heart monitor to hear the thumps. She cleared her throat. “What day is it? How long have I been here?”

  Something that might have passed for a smile touched his lips. As with most of his emotions, it was there and gone before she could analyze it. “It’s still Wednesday, Miss Michaels. You’ve been here about six hours.”

  Six hours? Her heart raced again, but this time it wasn’t from anticipation. She put her hands on the bed rails and tensed, ready to pull herself up.

  “Whoa.” Bard put a hand on hers. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “I can’t stay here. What if they run tests on me? They might take my blood or—”

  “No, they won’t.” He lifted her hand, then used his other one to jimmy the rail until it clicked and slid down. Still holding her hand, he sat on the side of her bed, his hip a breath away from her thigh. “This is a small hospital. In the ER, nothing gets past me. I’m the one who brought you in, and I took care of your labs myself.”

  Her panic receded, but only a little. “You shouldn’t have brought me here. It’s forbidden.”

  His gaze hardened. “Didn’t you hear what I said before? Your heart stopped on that trail, Haley. Healing you drained me. I needed you here, where I could keep an eye on you while I recharged enough to finish your healing.”

  A tiny bit of heat teased the back of her neck at the sound of her name on his lips. As soon as it registered, she looked down, confusion swamping her.

  Why should him saying her name provoke that kind of response? She didn’t even like him.

  Her gaze fell on their joined hands. The heat rose higher.

  His own gaze followed the direction hers had taken. Abruptly, he released her hand, almost as if he hadn’t realized he held it. He cleared his throat. “We should finish up. Then I can take you home.”

  “Finish up?”

  “With your healing.” He fished around in his breast pocket, then pulled out a penlight and snapped it on. “Look right here,” he said, tapping the bridge of his nose.

  Again, his tone compelled obedience. She focused on the thick scar that marred his nose. How had he gotten it? And all the others?

  “You have a concussion,” he murmured, flashing the light into her eyes, then moving it down. Up and down. Up and down. Up and down. He switched from one eye to the other, moving the beam in and out of her line of sight. The ache in her head throbbed to life once
more.

  Nausea surged, and she closed her eyes. “Sorry,” she whispered.

  There was a clicking sound, followed by the rustle of cloth. “Don’t be,” he said. “It’s normal.”

  She forced her eyes open. His head was bent, and he was rolling the cuffs of his coat above his wrists. When he finished, he leaned forward and slid both hands into her hair.

  Every nerve ending in her body sprang to attention. He was so close she could see the black shadow of stubble on his cheeks. So close the underlying structure of his face was apparent—the square jaw, the straight nose, the firm but sensual mouth.

  Inches away, his scars should have been more obvious. Yet they weren’t. Instead, it was as if she was suddenly able to see beyond them. Like she’d been staring at a map before and now someone had brought it to her face, allowing her to get a glimpse of something deeper than grids and lines.

  “Deep breath,” he murmured. “This is delicate work.”

  A beat of anxiety thrummed in her chest. “Will it hurt?”

  His palms warmed, and the air grew heavy—like ozone gathering before a thunderstorm. Even as his gaze became intense, his voice was soft. “No. You should only feel heat.”

  Heat. Yes, that’s what she felt. It was like the sun had come out and blasted the full force of its rays on the sides of her head.

  His eye closed, and a frown formed between his brows, pulling them low. The scar over his nose went from pink to white, as if it was strained.

  She took a deep breath and held it. Tension built. For a second, it seemed like the walls contracted. Her heart raced.

  He bit his lower lip, the edge of a blunt, white tooth pressed deep into his flesh. His frown deepened, and he let out a low moan.

  Her breath hitched. Now the sun was everywhere. Her nipples tightened.

  What the . . .? She jerked against the bed.

  “Don’t.” Bard’s voice came out as a half growl.

  Oh god. Had he noticed?

  “Hold still,” he said.

  She let out a shaky breath. His voice was strained, but his beast wasn’t behind it.

  No, this was more like he was struggling to lift a heavy weight.