Page 14 of What a Wolf's Heart Decides

Nothing to impress a young male looking for a lifelong mate.

She didn’t even have a Gift.

The headlights grew brighter as the vehicle approached.

Her heart pounded.

By the plane, Joel looked up and waved at the vehicle, which turned out to be a black Chevy Tahoe. It pulled next to the plane and stopped. Then the door opened and a man got out.

She swallowed. Maybe the hangar had a back door. If she hurried, she could slip out before anyone noticed she was gone. Sure, she didn’t know how to survive in the mountains—or anywhere, really—but she was a werewolf. How hard could it be? She’d ditch her clothes, shift, and then head south until she found civilization.

The SUV’s headlights made it impossible to make out the man’s features. He was just a tall, faceless silhouette. Joel walked over to him and started talking.

About her? What would he say? Yeah, she asked if I was a pilot and then wanted to know where I was taking her. Not too bright, that one.

She let out a shaky breath, which formed a round circle of condensation on the window.

The male from the SUV listened with his head bowed as Joel spoke . . . or maybe he stood that way due to the height difference between the two men. Because Joel was considerably shorter.

Which meant SUV guy was well over six feet. Like most werewolves, Joel wasn’t small. Still, the other male towered over him.

She drew closer to the window, trying to make out his features. Handsome would be nice, but he shouldn’t be too handsome. If they were seriously mismatched in the looks department, people would always wonder how she landed him. They’d wonder if she had a trust fund or some kind of lucrative influencer business. Or that she’d blackmailed him into marrying her.

Wait. She shook her head. You’re moving way too fast, Michaels. She hadn’t even met the guy and she was already planning their nuptials? If she gave off that desperate of a vibe, she was going to scare him off before he even had a chance to get to know her. She might as well march up to him, stick out her hand, and say, “Hi, I’m Haley. Don’t be alarmed, but I picked out our wedding colors and some names for our future babies.”

Massive cringe.

What she needed was a quick chat with Lizette. The Alpha’s wife had worked as a teaching assistant all through college. She knew how to talk to males—especially young males. It didn’t hurt that she was stop-traffic-gorgeous.

Outside, the taller man slapped Joel on the shoulder, then turned and headed toward the hangar.

Haley gasped. He was walking straight at the hangar. At her!

Except, wait a second. He wasn’t so much walking as he was . . . limping. That was the only way to describe his gait. The car’s headlights blazed at his back, making his body a solid black shadow haloed by the harsh beams. With each step, he sort of flung out his right leg and then hauled the left one behind him. The movements were jerky and unnatural, and they made his shoulders shift up and down as he made his way to the hangar.

Was he injured? It wasn’t unheard of for young males to get hurt now and then, especially if they got caught up in a dominance contest.

Or, as she liked to call it, senseless dick measuring. Their species had enough problems without idiot men maiming or killing each other over who was manlier.

A sigh built in her chest. If this Benjamin Rupert was prone to stupid dominance challenges, she was getting on a plane tomorrow. The silhouetted man continued limping forward. Behind him, Joel finished with the Cessna, then headed toward an old pickup truck she hadn’t noticed before.

Panic zipped down her spine. He was leaving her? Alone with Rupert? Sure, the taciturn pilot hadn’t been much of a traveling companion, but he was literally the only person she knew in this place.

The door squealed, yanking her attention away from the window and Joel’s departure. Yellow light spilled across the concrete floor, and a pair of broad shoulders filled the doorway. The stranger stood less than a dozen feet away, but she still couldn’t make out his features—or anything else about him.

Except that he was big. Very big.

She fought the urge to take a step back. Rule number one when facing down a predator? Don’t show fear.

Besides, he probably didn’t mean to be intimidating. The poor guy couldn’t help his size. He’d most likely spent his entire adulthood being misjudged and distrusted. Usually, the largest wolves were the biggest softies. Remy was a perfect example.

She swallowed her misgivings and stepped forward, hand extended. “Hi, I’m—”

“Haley Michaels?” The deep voice was gruff, as if he hadn’t used it in a while. There was also an edge of . . . something. It wasn’t irritation, but it was close.

She realized she’d frozen in place, her hand hovering in the space between them. Cheeks heating, she dropped it to her side. “Yes. I mean, that’s me.”

Silence, then he dragged his gaze down her body, like he was taking an inventory.

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