Page 13 of What a Wolf's Heart Decides

Oh yeah, this was going to be the best birthday ever.

3

So much for a welcoming committee.

Haley huddled inside the airport’s lone hangar and watched through the frost-covered window as the pilot worked outside. Errant snowflakes whirled around him, and a dusting of snow covered the ground. Lit by the smattering of lights from the modest runway, he tossed what looked like a giant plastic blanket over the two-seater plane. A few hours earlier, he’d fetched her from the baggage claim area in the Sea-Tac Airport after her commercial flight from New York. It hadn’t been hard to spot him among the throng of humans.

Well, sense him, really.

Like most of her kind, she could “feel” the presence of other wolves—a sort of sixth sense that was more pronounced when one of her own species mingled in a crowd of humans. There might as well have been a giant red arrow blazing over his head.

Thinking to start her trip by making a new friend, she’d grabbed her suitcase, walked over, and introduced herself.

He’d responded with a low grunt. It had taken her a minute to translate it as “Joel.”

And that was pretty much the extent of their conversation for the rest of the trip. He’d given her a curt nod, turned on his heel, and headed for the double doors that led outside. After a few seconds of shock and confusion, she’d tipped her suitcase onto its wheels and followed him into the chilly Seattle night.

Sea-Tac was huge, and she was huffing and puffing by the time they reached a small row of metal buildings tucked behind one of the commercial runways. Massive jetliners screamed into the air as Joel waved her back, then climbed inside a white Cessna and started the engine. After a minute, he climbed out and loaded her suitcase into the plane’s tiny storage compartment. Then he motioned her in a wide arc around the spinning propeller, gesturing for her to get inside.

“I hope you’re a pilot,” she’d said, buckling her seatbelt.

He’d given her a look.

“That was a joke.”

Another grunt—an incoherent one this time—and then he handed her a headset and taxied them onto a small runway that ran parallel to the one the big planes used.

“Um.” Her voice crackled in her ears as the plane’s comm system kicked in. “Where are we going?”

Another look—and this time Joel’s expression let her know he seriously doubted her intelligence. “Elder Lake.”

She forced a smile. “Just checking.” She didn’t add “in case you were a deranged kidnapper” but she hoped the general sentiment hung in the air.

The flight north had taken a little over an hour, and she’d sat white-knuckled as wind buffeted the small plane. She wasn’t normally a nervous flyer, but the Cessna’s constant pitching and shuddering had made the turkey wrap she ate for lunch threaten to make a second appearance.

Fortunately, she managed not to barf on her shoes—or Joel. He’d touched them down in a barren airfield with a dirt runway and a lonely metal building that looked more like a shed than a hangar. Here and there, dirty snow had been pushed into small hills that would probably turn the runway into a mud pit once the weather warmed up.

Judging from the gusts of icy wind swirling around the airfield, that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

Near the plane, Joel fastened the tarp under one of the wings.

After helping her down the Cessna’s narrow fold-out steps, he’d said he needed to “tuck in” the plane for the night. Then he pointed her toward the darkened hangar and told her to wait for her pack escort.

Wind battered the window, making her suck in a quick breath. A second later, a sharp ache shot through her forehead.

The altitude. Right. Aside from some awe-inspiring glimpses of Mount Ranier on the flight into Seattle, she hadn’t really noticed the mountains. That had changed as Joel flew the Cessna north.

She stepped forward and peered out the dirt-smudged window. There was no denying she was in the Cascades. They loomed over everything—majestic peaks that seemed like they might topple onto the scrubby airfield at any moment.

A thump outside drew her attention. Joel still bustled around the plane, his ski jacket unzipped and flapping in the wind as he pulled her suitcase from the storage compartment and set it on the ground. Two lights appeared in the darkness behind him.

She held her breath as her stomach fluttered. Those were headlights. They pierced through the gloom, the beams bouncing as a vehicle navigated the dirt road that led to the airfield.

Her escort? Maybe even Benjamin Rupert himself?

Her stomach did a nervous flip. She pressed closer to the window, which showed her reflection. A young woman with blue eyes and a tangle of light brown curls crammed under a knit beanie stared back at her. Her looks were nothing remarkable—not like the glossy dark hair and porcelain skin of Lizette. She didn’t have Sophie’s long legs and voluptuous curves or Lily’s fiery red hair and glinting green eyes.

She wasn’t ugly. She was just . . . average. Nothing to write home about.

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