“Cold?” he asked, teasing.
“Y-y-yes,” she tried to snap back.
Knowing she was miserable wasn’t amusing. Cold as it was, he’d no doubt that adrenaline and fear was ramping up her reaction. He tended to block memories of Finn’s attack, being turned and the horror that followed. It had been bad—a waking nightmare. Sensory overload, mood swings and exhaustion, excitement and terror. He’d had time before his first shift to come to terms with what had happened and understand what to expect.
Olivia had no idea. All she had was his word…and her wolf. He could sense her waiting on the periphery of Olivia’s mind, eager to be fully realized. Pure energy and enthusiasm, naïveté and endless strength—tomorrow night was going to be one hell of a ride.
She froze, going perfectly sti
ll and drawing him up short. The sound was faint at first. His wolf knew what it was before he did.
“Is that a helicopter?” she whispered, pressing herself against his side.
He was impressed. She’d heard it before he had. “Finn.”
She relaxed against him.
They might be about to get rescued, but they weren’t out of danger—not yet. And relaxation was the last thing on his mind. The louder the helicopter grew, the more agitated he became. The pack was coming for them, so why wasn’t he happy? Why couldn’t he forget the hurt and anger their desertion caused? It was a splinter festering deep, one he couldn’t ignore—not yet.
Maybe it was a good thing. His anger had given him the fight to survive the shit-storm of captivity. The future was still uncertain. Just because they were excited about his homecoming didn’t mean they’d welcome Olivia with open arms.
Maybe calling Finn had been a bad idea. He’d been taking care of them just fine on his own, and Olivia was smart, her instincts were kicking in. They’d be a good team—he could tell. Except that wasn’t fair to her. Keeping her to himself, living on the road, on the run—she deserved better. Once she’d settled in with the pack—with Finn—Mal could do whatever the fuck he wanted. On his own.
His wolf whined then growled. Leaving Olivia didn’t sit well with his inner beast.
The chatter of her teeth pulled him from his internal argument. He glanced down at her, frowning. She was watching him, her face too shadowed to reveal what she was thinking. Which could be a good thing. “What’s wrong?”
She shook her head.
“Tell me,” he urged.
The helicopter was in view now, a spotlight sweeping the newly fallen snow.
“You’re w-worried,” she managed. “About me? Where I-I fit, what to do with me?”
He sighed.
“Because you’re not sure you still belong with this pack? Or because of the you and me thing?”
He shook his head. “Because I don’t know what’s best for you.”
“So, making me a werewolf suddenly renders me incapable of making my own decisions?” she asked, the hint of anger creeping into her tone.
He growled. “Can we do this later?”
She let go off him, wrapping her arms around her waist.
He waited, but she stayed silent. In the grand scheme of things, her bad mood didn’t matter. Hell, being pissed was more effective than being scared. Not that he was going to let anything happen to her. He shook his head, tugging her into the clearing behind him and shielding his eyes from the beam of light…
A ripple. A warning.
His wolf recognized the scent. The one tracking them, an Other. The wind had shifted just enough to give him cover. Enough to let him get too damn close. He shoved Olivia behind him and turned, scanning the darkness.
Was he alone? It was unlikely.
Glowing white eyes waited in the shadow of the trees. One pair so far. That was good.
“He sees us,” she said, her fingers gripped the back of his jacket.