Hunting Ground
Page 5Anna waited for him to right it, but they just kept tilting all the way upside down and continued smoothly over until they were back upright again.
Over her laughter, he said, "This plane isn't rated for aerobatics, but a roll is only a one-gee maneuver." He tilted the plane over the other way, and said, "Properly done." And then he danced the plane through the sky.
She was breathless, and her diaphragm ached from laughing by the time the plane settled back on level flight. She glanced at Charles, who wasn't even smiling. He might have just as well been flying patterns over a grain field.
He hated planes just as he hated most modern technology. He'd told her so. But he owned one-and by golly he knew how to fly it. When he drove his truck, he was cautious and controlled. So why had he decided to play barnstormer in the Cessna? Was he just entertaining her, or was he enjoying himself?
A woman should know more about her mate. When the mate bond had first settled in, she'd believed she would. But her initial ability to feel him had faded, buried under his self-control and her defenses. She could feel the bond between them, strong and shining and impenetrable. She wondered if it felt the same to him, or if he could read her through it whenever he chose.
"This is Station Air November one eight eight three Victor requesting permission to land," he said, and it took her a moment to realize he was talking to someone other than her.
"Go ahead, sir. I mean, go ahead, eight three Victor," said a stranger's voice. "Welcome to Emerald City Pack territory, sir."
Charles dropped them abruptly through the scattered clouds, past white-coated mountains, to the soft green valley below. Before she realized there was a landing strip, the wheels touched down with a gentle bump.
The place where they landed looked nearly as remote as Aspen Creek. Though there was snow a hundred feet or so up the foothills, down where they had landed it was as green as if it were summer. Greener. Except for the landing field and a hangar, the land was awash in trees and bushes.
He withdrew from her, thinning the bond between them painfully. If he'd warned her beforehand, she would have kept quiet: three years in her first pack had given her power over her pain. It was surprise that forced the whine out of her throat.
Charles pulled his sunglasses off his face and looked at her with a frown. Sudden comprehension widened his eyes-"I never thought..." He turned his head and said, not to her, "All right. All right." And the painful collapse of their bond ceased.
Wolf-eyed, he leaned toward her and touched her face.
"I'm sorry," he told her. "I didn't mean to shut you out. I just..."
He stopped, apparently at a loss for words.
"Donning your armor?" she suggested. "It's okay, I just wasn't expecting it. Do what you have to."
But he didn't. Instead, he said, looking out at the approaching men, "These are not the enemy. Not this time, anyway."
He was out of his seat before she could say anything. And what would I have said? He closed himself up so that he could kill if he had to, so that he wouldn't like any of them too much. So he wouldn't hesitate in carrying out whatever had to be done.
"Glad you made it in, sir," said the one who was in charge. It still freaked her out sometimes how she could tell who was in charge by the subtle cues of body motion and position. Real people-normal humans-didn't need to know who was first and who was last.
"We were following you on our radar, and Jim here was worried you might have had some trouble because your speed seemed a little erratic."
Charles gave them a neutral face, and Anna wondered what his aerobatics had looked like on radar.
"No trouble," he said.
The other wolf cleared his throat and dropped his gaze. "Good. I'm Ian Garner of the Emerald City Pack, and I'm to help you in any way that I can."
As Charles and the other wolves unloaded the luggage and discussed how the plane was to be cared for and stored, Anna stood a little apart. She wasn't as nervous with the strangers as she expected to be-and it took her a minute to pinpoint why.
Ian was middle of the pack and leader here. So this group was not the Alpha's top tier of wolves, nowhere near the most dominant; they were wolves who wouldn't spark a dominant male's instinct to put them in their places. Angus Hopper, the Emerald City Pack Alpha, was a smart man. Not that he had to worry about Charles's control, but playing it safe was always a smart move.
Angus wouldn't have done it because strange dominant males still scared Anna, but a part of her was grateful nonetheless.
"They'll take care of the airplane," said Ian. He picked up the nearest piece of luggage and, with a dropped shoulder and a deferential swing of his head instead of words, invited them to follow him up a stone pathway through the trees. Charles took his own suitcase and waited for Anna to precede him.
Once he had them moving, the Emerald City wolf started talking in a rapid all-business voice that might have masked his anxiety from someone who was purely human. Charles did that to people, even in his own pack, and she didn't think even his father knew how much it bothered him.
"Angus is at work," the wolf said. "He says you're to have free access to the house." Anna remembered getting a glimpse of a house as they landed, but from the ground, it was well hidden by the trees. That must be where they were headed toward. "You're welcome to anything any of us have, but the pack itself has a newish Land Cruiser and a Corolla that has seen better days. Angus says you can use his BMW if you'd rather."
"We'll take the Corolla," Charles told him. "And we're staying in a hotel downtown. This is too far for an easy commute to the meeting place."
"He thought you would feel that way. Angus invites you to stay with him at his condo in the city."