Page 60 of Logan’s Acadian Wolves

Wynter’s feet began to move before her brain had a chance to process what she was doing. A sharp tug on her arm reminded her of where she was. Tears stung her cheeks as Jake pulled her toward him. Her wolf sought to comfort her mate, to care for him. But it wasn’t just her wolf, it was Wynter. Every part of her being needed to soothe him. As if Logan sensed what was happening, his eyes pierced the crowd and locked on hers. Both unable to speak or move, it seemed as if centuries passed while they locked in a gaze. The roar of a thunderbolt caused her to look up to the heavens, losing eye contact.

Logan felt Wynter’s concern, but it was the touch of an unmated male that caught his attention. But soon, he realized Jake was holding her back. She was coming for him. The caring expression on her face told him how much she needed him. The unspoken encouragement from his mate drove him to continue. Releasing the woman back to Fiona, he touched a loving hand to Dana’s coffin.

“Dana, my friend. You will never, ever be forgotten. Your death will not go unpunished. I promise you, as I stand here today,” Logan’s voice cracked as he fought his emotion, “you will be avenged.”

As he spoke his last words, Dana’s mother nodded in approval. The funeral director gestured for his workers to remove the draping. Logan gave a silent signal to Dimitri that it was time to place Dana into her final resting place. Six men held the casket by its handles, lifting it gently into the tomb’s upper vault. As it disappeared into the dark chamber, Fiona, and Dana’s mother led the procession of people to the exit while the sounding trumpets played, ‘When the Saints Go Marching In’.

Surreal as it was, Wynter watched as the people poured back into the narrow paths, silently thanking God no one had been struck by lightning. As if all the air had left her lungs, she struggled to make her way out of the cemetery. She concentrated, putting one frozen wet foot in front of the other. Small fingers grasped her wrist, and she peered under the umbrella to see Fiona standing in front of her.

“I am so sorry for your loss,” Wynter managed genuinely. If anyone knew loss, it was her.

“Thank you for coming. I know it mustn’t have been easy,” Fiona related with understanding. “I’ll see you in a few days.”

Unsure of what to say, Wynter dipped her head in acknowledgement and gave her a sympathetic smile. A gust of wind pushed both women onward toward the exit. Wynter gasped for breath and held tight to Jake, stumbling through the icy puddles. Jake pointed to a waiting limo, and she blindly followed. Relief filled her as a car door opened, and she fell, shivering, into its warm confines. Jake quickly pressed his hip to hers, forcing Wynter to move over into the next seat. As the heat hit her feet, she glanced up to find Logan staring at her.

Chapter Twenty-One

Wynter’s stomach dropped as the elevator lurched toward the sky. She didn’t understand why they were in Logan’s high-rise, but kept quiet on their ascent. Fighting the claustrophobia, she closed her eyes after it passed the floor where she’d first met Logan in his office. A resounding jolt forced her to focus on the opening doors. Rain blew into the small chamber, causing her to gasp. What the hell? Instinctively, she covered her ears upon hearing the deafening whirl of the helicopter blades. Wind hit her face, and she stopped, frozen in disbelief. A small push between her shoulder blades put her feet back in motion, propelling her toward the blinking lights.

The pressure from the spinning rotors sprayed air and water onto them as they crossed the helipad. Wynter felt Logan wrap an arm around her waist, guiding her into the dimly lit cabin. Shocked as she was, she was relieved to be out of the weather. The soft tan leather seats felt smooth on her palms. She took in her surroundings, noticing that the luxury helicopter had four seats, complete with plasma TV screen and bar. Peering forward, she spotted a pilot through the small privacy glass.

Logan sat down next to Wynter, closing the door after Dimitri. Having never been in a helicopter, panic rose in Wynter’s throat. She looked to Logan and Dimitri who both appeared solemn but altogether calm as if they’d done this a million times. But of course they have, she thought to herself. Meanwhile, all she could think about was crashing in the middle of the night inside the little tin can. A very lush, expensive tin can, but still it was night and it was raining. Both of those factors could not be good, she reasoned.

“Why are we..?” she began to yell over at Logan, her face white with fright.

He reached behind her seat and grabbed a pair of headphones. Ever so gently, he placed them onto her ears, gliding his thumb down the side of her cheek. Wynter gazed into his eyes, wanting desperately to talk with him about what had happened, but as she went to open her mouth, he looked away and put a set on his own ears.

“Why are we taking a helicopter? Are you sure this is safe?” Wynter asked, her voice laced with alarm. “It’s raining.”

“Not optimal but it’s let up some. Besides, the wind has died down and there’s no fog. We don’t want to take any chances getting ambushed on the roads. Don’t worry, it’s safe.”

“‘Bout forty-five minutes to an hour, if the weather cooperates. You’ve never flown in a whirlybird, cher?” Dimitri inquired with a relaxed smile.

“No I haven’t,” she replied, gasping as they vaulted up into the night sky. Her fingernails dug into the leather, and she hoped they wouldn’t leave scratches. She watched in wonder as tiny lights below flickered in the distance as they buzzed toward their destination.

Logan, unable to take another minute of his self-imposed isolation, reached for Wynter’s hand. Slowly peeling her fingers from the seat, he placed her palm on his leg, and caressed her fingers. Goddess, he missed touching her. The small gesture sent loving tendrils throughout his body, reminding him that she really was his mate. When they got home, they’d have to have a long discussion about their relationship, her future as a wolf.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he assured her in a tender voice that he hadn’t used since before she’d left to go with Jax. He continued to massage her hand, sliding a thumb into her palm. “Just rest. We’ll be there soon.”

Wynter relaxed into the small but poignant contact. Her hand burned with warmth radiating from his thigh, and she fought the urge to lean into him, to touch him, to kiss him. As if her body obeyed his directive, she let her forehead rest against the cool window. Within seconds, she’d fallen fast asleep to the soft lullaby of the humming blades.

Creaking metal woke Wynter. The silence that followed told her they had landed. Logan, who’d already begun exiting, extended his hand.

“We’re home,” he told her.

Home? No, his home, not hers, she thought. But still, that small spark of hope told her to embrace her future with optimistic curiosity. Her heart fluttered in response. With a cautious smile, she clasped her palm in his, accepting his assistance down the steps.

It was only a short ride from the helipad to Logan’s house. When they’d exited the car, Wynter eyed the blue tarp which covered the exterior of the huge contemporary house. It appeared unfinished yet lights glimmered through the undraped casement windows. Floodlights illuminated the fresh landscaping, and the smell of newly laid mulch and fragrant roses permeated the night air.

The rain had subsided, and they quickly made their way up the walkway towards the entrance. Logan flipped open a security pad and typed in a code. The lock clicked open and he turned the handle. As they entered, she followed Logan’s lead and kicked off her sodden shoes, thankful she’d gone without stockings. In a few minutes, her feet would dry nicely and the smooth hardwood floor felt soothing to her sore toes.

“Adèle,” Logan called.

Wynter looked around the foyer that led into a spacious great room. A modern rectangular shaped gas lit fire blazed atop its round white stones. The black pit, outlined in stainless steel, stood out against the cream-colored Kasota stone hearth. Three tall vases filled with ornamental grass sat atop a thin dark wooden mantel.

A soft purring creature rubbed against her legs, startling Wynter. She knelt down, petting the sweet cat who meowed and pressed its head into her hands.

“Well, hello, kitty,” she said softly, touching its ears.