by J. L. Wilder
She nodded and wrapped both arms around the high, skinny trunk of the tree, giving thanks that she had no fear of heights. It would be awful to be up here if she did.
“You okay?” Weston asked.
She nodded.
“Scared?”
“Yeah.”
He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close. “We’re safe right now,” he said. “I won’t deny we’re in a bad situation, but at the moment, we’re safe. They can’t do anything to us.”
She nodded, letting her head rest against his chest. This was so familiar. They had sat like this in the woods as teenagers, leaning into each other for comfort and support, escaping the problems of youth. She longed to let herself fall into that comfort now, to trust that Weston would be by her side no matter what. But circumstances had conspired to drive them apart once before. She didn’t want to let herself believe there was a future here only to have her heartbroken again.
Besides, he’d said nothing about wanting her back. Not in that way. He had aligned himself with her for mutual benefit, so that they could both escape from Hawk, but that was a far cry from love.
The bikes were getting closer. Suddenly, the flash of a headlight broke through the oppressive darkness, followed by two more. The Wolves.
“Shhh.” His arm moved from her waist to wrap around her torso, holding her in close like a safety belt. “Not a sound, now. Let’s just listen.”
So, they listened. Charity hoped desperately to see the three bikes pass them by, disappearing into the distance, but instead, she heard a yell. “There’s a road here!”
They had seen the turnoff. They were going to investigate it. Shit.
She was trembling now. Weston held her tighter. A gust of wind rustled the leaves of the tree that concealed them, and she hoped it was giving off a nice, ripe, oaky smell that obscured their own scents.
“Tire tread,” a voice said now. It was a bit quieter, not like the yell they’d heard originally, and so it was a bit harder to hear, but in the silence of the night they still made it out. That meant, Charity realized, that if she or Weston made any significant noise, the Wolves on the ground would be able to hear them. She tried to still her breathing and stuck her tongue in between her teeth to stop them from chattering.
“...definitely came this way...”
A rustling of branches in the far-off distance. Then— “Hawk! Look at this!”
“Will you be quiet?”
“It’s his, isn’t it? I can’t tell in this light.”
“It’s his all right. I wonder why he ditched it.”
“Maybe it broke down. Check the tires. Does it have a flat?”
“Nah, they’re good...”
“Did he leave the key?”
A long silence. Charity imagined them conducting an examination of the bike. “No,” someone said finally.
“Then it must have broken down,” Hawk’s voice said. “He would never leave his bike willingly. What I want to know is why he left at all.”
“What I want to know is how he left at all.” That was Gino. “We had orders.”
“I suspect those two questions might have the same answer,” Hawk said tightly.
Weston held Charity closer than ever. She could feel the rise and fall of his chest. To her surprise, her fear—still very much present and active—was combining with another feeling, one she hardly recognized, it had been away so long.
“This is good news,” Hawk said. His voice was even softer now. Charity could hardly hear him at all anymore. She strained her ears, trying to listen. “...must have gone off on foot. They’ll be much easier to follow.”
“What about our bikes?”
“Leave them. We’ll come back for them.”
“We can’t leave our bikes!” Gino sounded scandalized.
“I said leave them.” That was an order. Charity could imagine the waves of frustration rolling through the men on the ground. They would hate to obey. But they would be forced to. The bikes might be damaged or stolen by the time they returned. And the search they were on, the hunt to find Charity, it was strictly for Hawk’s benefit. They weren’t going to be allowed to mate with her if she was found.
But they had to obey orders.
It was too dark to see them, but they rustled the undergrowth as they moved, and it was clear what direction they’d decided to take their search. Charity and Weston stared down into the blackness below them until the sounds of movement had faded away to nothing.
She was afraid, for several moments, to speak. The inability to see the ground was frightening. What if the Wolves were still down there? What if they’d decided to go off a little way and hunker, waiting to see if anyone emerged? Weston must have been thinking along the same lines because he held still too, waiting.
Nothing. Not a sound.
“I think they’re gone,” he whispered finally.
“What do we do now?”
“Climb down. Can you?”
She responded by lowering herself slowly down the tree, trying hard not to move the branches as she transferred her weight from one to the next. It felt like forever, but eventually, she reached the ground.
A moment later, Weston was beside her. “Okay,” he breathed into her ear. “Step lightly now, not a sound. This way.”
She took his hand so as not to lose him in the darkness and followed carefully. They had to sacrifice speed for stealth, picking their way quietly through the trees, afraid to so much as step on a twig. But they were moving in the opposite direction from where Hawk and the Wolves had gone. Maybe if they were careful, they could get away.
Eventually, Weston picked up the pace a little. “Where are we going?” Charity asked him, still afraid to speak above a whisper.
“Just two more miles,” he said.
“What’s in two miles?”
“The bus station.”
Chapter Eleven
WESTON
He paid cash for the bus tickets, depleting his emergency reserve of funds considerably. There was nothing that could be done about it, though. The fact was that they had to get out of town, and the bus gave them their best chance of blending into a crowd. They boarded and sat in the back with their feet on the duffel bag to keep it from sliding around and their heads down to keep from being seen.
Weston let out a sigh of relief when the bus pulled out of the station. They merged onto the highway going south, away from the Hell’s Wolves’ cabin. The first stop, he knew, would come after about an hour, so he had a little time to decide whether he and Charity should disembark there and change lines or keep going.
Charity had slumped against his shoulder and was asleep within minutes. He couldn’t blame her, after the day they’d had. She must be experiencing the world’s most intense adrenaline crash. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. It was amazing how quickly the feelings he’d once had for her had started to resurrect themselves.
But could he really allow himself to be pulled back into a relationship with her?
That’s not the question, he thought wryly. The question is, can I resist her?
Many things about her were just as he remembered. She was clever and witty. She was strong—she hadn’t crumbled under the pressure of having been kidnapped back into the pack—and she was brave, willing to risk everything for Weston’s escape plan. All these were qualities he’d admired when they’d been younger.
But there was more to her now. There was a new quality, something more intense. It was nothing he could define in words, but his attraction to her definitely went beyond her personality now. It was as if something deep within her was calling to something deep within him, and it was a call he felt powerless to ignore.
I want her.
Standing in that tree and feeling her cling to him had been enough to almost drive him wild. The fear coursing through him at the time should have provided a distraction, but instead, it had only made the whole thing more intense.
I have to get it under control, he told himself firmly. I’m helping her get away. That’s all.
But of course, that wasn’t all. The two of them had a past. They had only been back in each other’s lives for a day and things were already starting to grow between them. He could tell by the way she looked at him sometimes, by the way she held onto him when she was afraid, that she felt something too.
God, what are we going to do?
All too soon, the bus came to a stop. Weston longed to stay where he was, to enjoy the feel of Charity’s body next to his, to close his eyes and rest for a while, but the very fact that he wanted that so badly made him feel as though it was predictable. He shook Charity’s shoulder.
She woke immediately. “Are we here?”
“We’re getting off,” he said.
She got to her feet and stepped into the aisle, and he followed her. They kept their eyes on their feet, not wanting to make eye contact with the driver at all. He wasn’t likely to remember them, Weston thought, but there was always a possibility. The bus was pretty empty at this time of night.
And what time was it, anyway? He’d intended to drive them down the highway until the sun started to rise, and then to hide in the woods during the day. But the original plan had been badly derailed, and now he was disoriented.
He didn’t dare ask the attendant inside the bus station for the time—it would draw too much attention to him, and to Charity. If the Wolves came this way looking for them, the attendant was more likely to remember a man who had asked him what time it was than a man who had left the premises. He would find the answer another way.
He led Charity out of the bus terminal and across the highway to a gas station. She followed without asking questions, which he appreciated. It wasn’t often that anyone surrendered the lead to Weston. Even Robbie, his best friend, usually put up an argument or questioned him when he asked for something. But Charity simply submitted to his leadership. It made the whole thing much easier.
“Okay,” he said quietly when they reached the gas station. “You go in first. I don’t want us to look like we’re together, so just go to the back and pretend to be looking at something. Use the restroom, maybe. I’m going to buy a few things. Once you see me check out and leave, wait about five minutes. Then you leave too. Meet me out here.”
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.