by J. L. Wilder
She nodded. Her face was pale in the moonlight.
“Don’t talk to anybody,” he said. “Don’t do anything to stand out or make yourself memorable. If this clerk remembers us, I want him to remember us as two individuals, not a pair.”
“Okay.”
“All right. Go.”
She went inside. Weston had to give her credit. As crazy as this night had been, he wouldn’t have been surprised to see her shaking, darting bird glances around and looking terrified. But she was clearly made of sterner stuff than that. She marched right to the back of the gas station, as he’d told her to, and disappeared down the little corridor that no doubt led to the restrooms.
The man at the register barely looked up.
Weston was driven mad by being this far away from her—who knew what might be happening to her now that she was out of sight? She’s fine, he told himself firmly. Nothing can happen back there. Anyone who came for her would have to go through me first. He knew it was true, but it was a hard thing to have faith in. He would feel better when he could see her again.
He forced himself to wait five minutes before entering the building. He gathered up supplies—a box of cereal, a handful of granola bars, some packages of jerky, and a bunch of bananas. He brought everything to the counter and laid it out.
The clerk surveyed his selections. “Going camping?”
“Road trip.”
“Need gas?”
“Nah, I’m taking the bus.”
“Where are you off to?”
He named a town north of the Hell’s Wolves’ cabin, a place he definitely wasn’t going to go. If they tracked him here, if they spoke with this man, there was no telling whether they would fall for such obvious misinformation—he thought not—but at least they wouldn’t get anything true.
The clerk bagged up his purchases and handed them over. Weston glanced up at the clock on the wall as he accepted them and saw that it was just past one a.m. Less of the night had gone by than he’d thought.
They would have to keep moving, at least for a little while.
He went outside and waited. After a few minutes, Charity joined him. “Now what?” she asked quietly.
“Now we take a train.” The idea had come to him while he’d been waiting. There were train tracks running through the field a few yards away, and if they were lucky, they’d be able to find an open boxcar and hop in. The train would have to slow down, he knew, to move through this area, since there were buildings and roads and people here.
And if they could board a train that way, they wouldn’t have to pay for the next leg of their journey. That would definitely come in handy. Weston’s funds were tight.
Once again, Charity followed without argument or question. When they reached the train tracks, Weston retreated a little way so that he was disguised by the stalks of wheat, and Charity followed suit. “Do you know when a train will come?” she asked.
“No idea. We’ll just wait here until it happens.”
She nodded.
“You can sleep if you want to,” he offered.
“I don’t think I could.”
“You slept on the bus.”
“That was different, though. The bus was...I don’t know. It felt safe. Nothing could sneak up on us on a bus. Here, I don’t know.” She looked around nervously. “They could be anywhere.”
“They’re not. We’d hear them. We’d smell them.”
“Yeah, I know.” She fidgeted a little. “I know that. But I still don’t think I can relax enough to go to sleep.”
He lay back on the ground, pulling her with him so the two of them were gazing up at the stars. “Just breathe,” he said quietly. “I’m not going to let them take you back. No way.”
“Weston?”
“Hmm?”
“Why did you save me?”
He turned his head to look at her. “I had to,” he said, surprised. “Once I realized I could, I didn’t have any other choice.”
“When did you become so noble?”
“I’m not,” he said. “I did it for myself as much as for you. I couldn’t have handled watching Hawk with you. It would have driven me insane before long.”
“Why?”
He exhaled. “You know why, don’t you?”
“Tell me.”
He closed his eyes. “I still love you,” he said. “I don’t think I ever stopped.”
She curled closer to him in his arms. It was all the answer he needed.
“I tried to put you out of my mind for years,” he said. “I tried to stop thinking about you. I wanted to forget about you. But every few days, your name or your face would drift into my mind again, and every time it was like I was being torn apart.”
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
“I thought it was anger. I thought I was angry with you for leaving. Maybe I wanted it to be anger because that would be easier to handle. But it never was. The moment I saw you again, I knew that. I tried to hold onto the anger because I didn’t want to deal with the pain of losing you to Hawk, but it didn’t even last the night.”
Her hand came to rest on his chest. “I’m so sorry I hurt you, Weston. You know I never wanted to. I was so young, and I was scared, and...and I just didn’t see any other way.”
“I would have come with you.”
“I know that now.”
He rolled onto one shoulder and wrapped his other arm around her, pulling her into his chest. It felt strange and wondrous to be so close with her again. It was as if he’d fallen into one of his dreams.
“It was like that for me, too,” she said.
“What do you mean?”
“The whole time I was on my own, I never stopped thinking of you. Not really. I tried to lose myself in human things, in my human life. I tried to forget about the pack and everyone I’d grown up with. But it was so hard. I was never close with anyone. I had coworkers, but they weren’t really friends. I tried to date people, but they were all horrible—weak and boring, not at all the kind of thing I like. And every time, I found myself noticing all the ways they didn’t measure up to you.”
He couldn’t help smiling into her shoulder at that. “What ways?”
“Just...small,” she said. “Not always physically, but sometimes. The problem was more that they had small personalities. They were afraid to make decisions. Even something as silly as where we’d have dinner. They’d ask me again and again what I wanted to do. And it was nice, but I couldn’t help wishing they’d just...take command. Make a choice. Be a man. It’s what you would have done.”
“You wanted to submit,” he suggested, heart suddenly pounding double time.
She inhaled sharply, and he felt her body arch against him. “Yes,” she breathed.
He ran his hand down her side to her hip and caressed it slowly before moving to her inner thigh. Her legs parted beneath him, and suddenly they were intimately pressed together, staring at each other’s eyes in the darkness.
They had never done this before. As teenagers, they’d spent those stolen hours in the woods kissing and declaring their feelings to one another, but things had never gone farther than that. But now he had her alone in a field, waiting for a train, and six long years had ripened her in ways he didn’t entirely understand but couldn’t ignore.
She lay on the ground, looking up at him with pure trust and love in her eyes, and he thought, this is it. This is an act of submission.
What did that mean?
He didn’t know. He didn’t care. All he cared about now was getting them both out of their clothes as quickly as possible. He yanked his shirt over his head, opened his pants, then carefully eased hers down, pausing to feel the swell of her ass in his hands.
He forced himself to pause. He had to be sure. “Tell me if you want me to stop,” he whispered. If she told him to stop now, he’d die.
She raised a hand, cupped his cheek gently, then grabbed the back of his neck and pulled his mouth down to meet hers.
&nb
sp; They moaned in unison as he entered her. Weston came to a place of stillness, trying to control his breathing, trying not to give in just yet to the way his blood seemed to be pounding through him, reaching for her.
She breathed heavily, breasts rising and falling, staring up at him in awe.
“Move,” she said quietly, and it felt like a command.
He took her hands, holding them carefully in his, pressing her arms into the dirt, careful not to put too much weight on her. He was glad they’d moved into this quickly, that they hadn’t given it too much thought. Their bodies knew what to do. And, he was amazed to realize, their bodies knew each other. Even though they had never been together before, it was as if they were coming home.
He fucked her slowly at first, fearful of hurting her, but when she wrapped her legs around his waist to pull him closer and deeper, he could no longer hold back. He let out another moan and slammed his hips forward, the tops of his thighs slapping against her. She whimpered and gasped with every thrust, her voice increasing in pitch and volume.
They shouldn’t be making so much noise, he knew. They should be quiet, should take care that no one should hear them. But he couldn’t help it. It was as if he was over the first hill on a roller coaster, and it was too late to get off. He was just along for the ride now.
Suddenly every part of her seemed to clench around him, and her body stilled. A moment later she let out a long, sighing cry and threw her head back, exposing her neck. The sight of her in such surrender and ecstasy sent a jolt of pleasure through Weston, and before he could control himself, he let out a howl as he came harder than he ever had in his life.
He rolled off her and lay on his back looking up at the stars, his hand still entwined in hers.
“That was—” she couldn’t seem to find words.
“That was amazing.”
“Had you ever? Before?”
“No,” he said. “There was only Lita, and she’s been with Gino for ages. I could have picked up girls at the bars, but I never really wanted to. I suppose they were all poor substitutes for you.”
“Mmm.” He could hear that she was smiling.
“Had you ever?”
“God, no.” She shuddered. “Not with any of those humans. No one has ever been man enough for me to even consider it.”
He slipped a hand beneath the hem of her shirt and rested it on the flat of her stomach. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered.
Her hand found its way into his hair and began to comb through it gently.
Suddenly, from very far away, he heard the sound of a whistle. The train.
He jumped to his feet. “Get up,” he said. “Get dressed. Quickly. We might only get one chance at this.” God knew he would have liked to stay there in the field with her for hours, learning her body, but who knew when another train would be along? There might not be one until tomorrow, and they couldn’t stay still that long.
“Is it going in the right direction?” she asked, getting to her feet and tugging her clothes back into position.
“I think so...yes, it’s coming from over there. Come on, come down by the tracks.”
She followed him down. “How do we get on a moving train?”
“Look for an open boxcar. I’m going to jump up, and then I’ll pull you up after. Be ready to run.”
Once again, he looked for fear or doubt in her face, and once again she showed none. “Okay.”
“Here it comes.”
The train’s engine coasted past them. It was, as he’d hoped, moving significantly slowly. “There,” he said, pointing to a boxcar with the door standing open. “Start running now.”
She ran after the train. Weston followed, waiting for the boxcar to pull even with them.
It caught up. He tossed the duffel bag aboard with a pang of nerves. They were committed now—get aboard or lose the bag. “Keep running!” he yelled. He jumped and grabbed the handle on the side of the door frame, swinging himself aboard.
Immediately he turned and reached for Charity.
Her hand was there. He caught her by the wrist and pulled up sharply. She let out a grunt that might have been from pain, but she made it, landing on her knees beside him.
The car began to pick up speed. They were heading into open country.
They had made it. For now, they were safe.
Weston crawled into the back corner of the car and leaned against the wall. Charity joined him, resting her head against his chest. Within moments, they were both asleep.
Chapter Twelve
CHARITY
For a moment, she wasn’t sure what had woken her, but then it became clear—the gentle swaying of the train had stopped.
Where were they?
Beside her, Weston was sitting up slowly, yawning and stretching, and Charity took a moment to relish the feeling of waking up next to him. That was another thing they’d never done before, and noticing it drew her mind back to the previous night and their encounter in the field. Her body was pleasantly sore from it, and she allowed herself a small smile.
Weston got to his feet. “Let’s get off here,” he said.
“Where are we?” She was already getting up, ready to follow him regardless of his answer.
“Don’t know,” he said. “It doesn’t matter. If we don’t know where we are, that makes it more random. That’ll make it harder for Hawk and the Wolves to find us.”
“You don’t think they could still be tracking us? Surely, they’d have lost us when we got on the train? We can’t have left any scent stronger than the smell of the fuel.”
“We left plenty back in that field, though,” Weston said. “If they managed to follow us that far...I mean, we were right next to the railroad tracks. It wouldn’t take a moment for them to realize we’d probably jumped on a train, and then all they’d have to do would be to follow the tracks south.
“But they won’t be able to guess where we got off,” he added, perhaps noticing the fear in her eyes. “And the more random that decision is, the better. Come on, let’s move before this train does.”
She nodded and stepped to the edge of the boxcar.
Weston jumped down. Charity handed him his duffel bag and then allowed him to lift her from the car to the ground. Even being in his arms for a few seconds was intoxicating. She wrapped her arms around him as her feet took her weight and slipped her hands under the hem of his shirt, allowing herself to enjoy his warm smooth skin for a moment.
Weston’s breathing increased just slightly.
“Not here,” he said. “We can’t do this here.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t want to stay outside when it’s lights out. We need to find somewhere to hide, somewhere to spend the day. Look.” He pointed to a cluster of low standing buildings off in the distance. “There’s a town over there. Just wait. We’ll find someplace.”
She nodded and pressed her forehead into his chest, surprised to find that she wanted him desperately. She didn’t think she could wait. Last night had been one thing—she’d wanted him then, but it had been all tangled up with nervousness and love and disbelief at the fact that he’d actually come back to her, that they would get a second chance with each other. Now the rest of those feelings had faded a bit and Charity’s physical need had been allowed to come to the forefront. She wanted to rip all his clothes off him where he stood.
But he had said no. He had said not here. He had said they would find someplace else.
She would follow his lead. She trusted him more than anyone in the world.
Weston slung the duffel bag over his shoulder and took her hand.
The walk to the town took about half an hour, the most agonizing half an hour of Charity’s life. Every time his hand moved against hers, it sent shock waves through her, overwhelming her mind and her body. Every step he took caused his muscles to flex in interesting and pleasing ways, and she couldn’t help but study the way his ass tightened as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
She remembered last night, remembered feeling that ass tighten under her heels, and her body flooded with warmth.
She had never been so aroused in her life. Even the sensation of the soft blades of grass brushing against her ankles was intense. It was as if she’d lost a layer of skin, and every sensation was heightened in the aftermath. Once or twice, she almost stopped Weston. She almost told him she couldn’t wait anymore, that the town was just too far away and that he was going to have to do something for her right here and now or she was going to die of wanting him.
But he had told her to wait.
She waited.
They finally reached the town. It was a tiny place, mostly small homes, a few gas stations, and a grocery store. A school. And—there—a motel.
Weston made a beeline for it.
The check-in desk was being run by a boy who looked barely older than eighteen. “How much for a room?” Weston asked him.
The kid sized him up. “How long you want it?” he drawled.
Was their need that obvious? Charity realized she didn’t even have it in her to feel embarrassed right now.
“Say twelve hours,” Weston said.
The kid snorted. “Yeah, right, twelve hours. Thirty bucks.”
Weston took some cash out of his pocket and pushed it across the counter to the kid, who made a show of counting it twice before plucking a key from the wall behind him and handing it over. “Room seven,” he said. “Outside and down to your left.”
Weston placed another bill on the counter. “Don’t tell anyone you saw me here,” he said.
“Whatever.” The kid plucked up that bill and stuffed it in his own pocket before adding the room payment to the register.
“Do you think he’ll tell?” Charity said as she followed Weston to room seven.
“I don’t think it’s likely anyone will ask him,” Weston said. “The farther from home we get, the less likely it is that the Wolves will be able to find us. But if they do make it here, I’d give fifty-fifty odds on the kid keeping his trap shut. Which is better than nothing.”
