Page 4 of His Secret Mate

LARA

Aurora Station, Arctic

The small cargo plane shuddered as it moved through the heavy arctic air. Lara thought she had dressed for the cold, but the frigid temperature was more than she’d prepared for. She now understood why Nightshadow had closed the door between the cockpit and the cargo hold. She was certain the cockpit was heated. She didn’t think he’d be flying in a T-shirt, but she also didn’t think he’d be worried about any parts freezing off.

And from what she could tell from looking at the fly of his jeans, he had some pretty impressive parts.

She shook her head. She was not going there. She didn’t have time for thinking about the hunky, brooding dire wolf-shifter’s parts—impressive or otherwise. A fleeting thought went through her mind—could male dire wolves form knots in their human form? Oh no, she was not going there. No way; no how.

The plane banked to the right and then began what felt like a controlled descent to the ground below. How was Nightshadow going to land this thing? At Otter Cove, it had been moored in the bay on floats or pontoons. She turned to peer out the window. The landscape that stretched out below was a vast, remote wilderness. It appeared to be a land of stark contrasts, where the beauty of its pristine environment was juxtaposed with the harshness of the climactic and primeval conditions. It was incredibly unique and awe-inspiring, seemingly characterized by its icy wilderness and what had to be its resilient ecosystem.

If Lara had thought the flight north was rough, it was nothing compared to the descent toward the icy expanse below, dotted with what appeared to be an enormous igloo and some kind of hangar. The doors to the hangar opened seemingly of their own accord. Lara, hidden beneath a pile of supplies, held on for dear life but still felt every bump and jolt of the plane as it bounced along in every fiber of her being. She clutched the straps of her backpack as well as those of the cargo netting trying to steady herself. Her heart raced with a mixture of fear and exhilaration. As the plane bumped down—she realized the pontoons must have some kind of wheels—she braced herself, knowing that her moment to sneak out was imminent.

The engine's roar began to fade as the plane slowed and came to a stop inside the hangar. She could hear the large overhead doors closing as Nightshadow secured the plane, opened the cargo hold door and the clamor of unloading began. Lara bided her time, trying to keep as quiet as she possibly could, waiting for the right moment to sneak off the plane and hopefully into someplace warm. When she couldn’t hear him moving around anymore, she slipped from her hiding spot and edged toward the open door. As she moved among the crates, her breath formed clouds in the frigid air. Damn, it was cold. She peeked out of the door and looked around. It didn’t appear as though anyone else was in the hangar. She took a deep breath and slid over the edge of the door, lowering herself until she was just barely hanging on, and let go.

She landed with a thud, her legs buckling so that she fell on her ass, causing her to fall backward and roll to one side. As she tried to right herself, she came face to face with a pair of sturdy work boots. Even they were sexy—when had she started thinking Nightshadow was sexy?

About the time he walked into the war room. Her eyes traveled up a long set of jean-clad legs with muscular thighs and the aforementioned button-up fly, which seemed to be bulging.

“Eyes up here,” he commanded, and much to her chagrin, she obeyed.

She let her gaze travel up the tall figure dressed in a way that seemed only to accentuate his muscles and masculinity. Lara hoped when she reached his face, he would be looking at her with a kind of bemusement. As she found his dark countenance, downturned lips and angry eyes, she thought to herself: no such luck.

"What the hell do you think you’re doing here?" His voice was deep and moody, with a slight hint of violence that spoke of a life spent in the vast, empty reaches of the north. His eyes, a piercing blue, regarded her with a mixture of irritation and something else, although she couldn’t quite figure out what that was.

Lara scrambled to her feet, brushing the imaginary dirt or snow from her clothes. "I... I didn't mean to startle you. I just?—"

"You just stowed away on my cargo plane to Aurora Station," he finished for her, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

She would really have liked to have seen him with his shirt off. No, scratch that, she’d have liked to have seen him with all his clothes off. She wondered if his chest was as sculpted as the henley shirt made it seem. And she really would like a good look at his dangly parts—better yet, she’d like to put them to good use.

“It’s not your cargo plane. It belongs to the Resistance.”

“How do you know that?”

“Same way I knew how to get inside and the best places to hide—I looked up the schematics in the database.”

He shook his head. "That really isn’t the point. Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?"

"I had to get here," Lara said, her voice steady despite her pounding heart and other body parts. Suddenly her bra seemed way too constrictive. "I need to be here."

He arched an eyebrow. "I can get your plant. You don’t even know where the damn thing is, and I’m pretty sure you couldn’t find it without me. You could have talked to me or left me instructions, but you didn’t. Why is that?"

She lifted her chin, meeting his gaze head-on. "Because I have work to do. Important work. And I won't be sent back to Otter Cove. I'll fight you tooth and nail if you try to force me back onto the plane before I’m ready to go. Even if you manage to get me back to Otter Cove, I’ll just find a way back here, so you may as well help me find the plant before you boot me out of here.”

He nodded slowly. “You seem to think you can just fly in and out of Aurora station as if it was Seattle—you do hail from Seattle, right?”

“How do you know that?

“You’re not the only one who can access information on the Resistance’s database." He studied her for a long moment, his expression inscrutable. Then, with a sigh, he shook his head. "I need to get the perishables inside. Grab your gear.” He looked down at her choice of footwear—mukluks. “Those won’t work.”

He said nothing else before grabbing her pack, slinging it over his shoulder before doing the same with her. Lara squealed at his tossing her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes; upending her world was the last thing she expected him to do.

“You’re going to hurt yourself,” she said, squirming.

“By carrying you?” He laughed and then strode to the far end of the hangar past a sno-cat, a snowmobile, and a larger expedition vehicle to a staircase.

He jogged down the stairs, bouncing her on his shoulder and forcing her to grab onto him as he opened a door and made his way down a cold, dimly lit tunnel. At the other end, he went up another set of stairs and into a large, warm room.

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