She sat back against the passenger seat, her arms folded in front of her as the van bounced over another railroad crossing. Up ahead of them was the secured gate entrance of a freight yard.
Trucks and tractor trailers rolled in and out of the compound, most of them hauling steel shipping containers that were heading on or off the trains.
“What are we doing?” Willow asked. “Are you planning to hide out here until dark?”
Razor shook his head. “No need to waste time waiting. I’ve got a better idea.”
CHAPTER 8
The steel shipping container was dark as pitch inside and cramped with large crates. Pallets of cardboard boxes wrapped in thick plastic and filled with building supplies packed its long rectangular space nearly to capacity, leaving only a narrow wedge of sitting space for her and Razor.
Willow supposed their traveling arrangements could have been worse. As if the stench in the stolen van hadn’t been unpleasant enough, the first container Razor had opened at the railyard carried pallets of various produce being carted across the country. The smell of spoiled, rotting fruit had almost knocked her over. Razor found another container for them to ride in, and so here they were hours later, jostling along on the tracks that had carried them what had to be hundreds of miles away from Cheyenne.
She sat on the hard, dusty floor of the container with him in near darkness. The only hint of light was a sliver that struggled to come in through the slim gap between the heavy metal doors. She couldn’t see the Breed male who vibrated with silent menace next to her, yet she was acutely aware of him.
His big body threw off heat like a furnace. The tight space they occupied together meant there were not even inches between them, so each time the train rocked particularly hard or took an unexpected curve, Willow’s shoulder and thigh bumped into his. The contact shouldn’t have felt so electric, especially when it was obvious he was furious with her.
She was getting used to his growly nature, but this new stillness from him was even more unsettling than his glowering and grumbling. He’d barely grunted a handful of words at her since they’d left the motel.
Or, rather, since he’d barged in on her shower and saw her Breedmate mark.
His angry words flew back at her again in recollection.
We’re here, whether either of us wants to be or not.
Even if you want me to walk away—even if that’s what I want too—that damn mark on your body won’t allow me to.
She hated that he felt some kind of obligation to keep her safe because of her Breedmate mark. It hadn’t been easy for her to accept his protection when he’d been doing it out of some apparent sense of duty to Theo, but now it was even worse.
What she’d told him was true: She had survived just fine on her own for a very long time. She didn’t need anyone looking after her, least of all one of the Breed. She had to be out of her mind to be willingly locked inside the same space with a lethal predator.
She had to be even more insane to admit, even to herself, that of all the ways Razor made her feel, afraid wasn’t one of them. Not even close.
“Where do you think this train is heading?” she asked into the darkness of the container.
“Just about straight east, if my instincts are right. And they always are.” His deep voice rumbled, low and gravelly with lack of use. “It should get us close to Chicago sometime after midnight if it doesn’t stop anywhere along the way.”
“What’s in Chicago?”
He hesitated before answering. “I know some people there.”
“What kind of people?”
“My kind of people.”
“You mean Breed?” His silence didn’t confirm or deny it. “Friends of yours?”
“Does it matter?” He made an impatient noise in the back of his throat. “If you’re going to ask questions and talk the whole time, you can start by telling me why you didn’t say anything about being a Breedmate.”
Yep, definitely still furious over that.
A flicker of amber sparks lit up his inhuman irises in the darkness. She glanced at him just in time to see the telltale surge of his anger. “I don’t see why you’re so upset about it. Yes, I was born with the mark, same as my sister. Big deal.”
“Itisa big deal.” He snarled the words at her. “You really have no idea, do you? There’s no bigger fucking deal to any Breed male than this, Willow. In my world, there is nothing more sacred than a woman born with the Breedmate mark. Breed honor demands that you are protected, revered. That you are cherished above any other treasure or vow.”
She could hardly make him out in the lightless container, but God, the way he said it—biting off every word, his deep voice vibrating with fury. It did something to her . . . something she felt all the way into her bones, into her veins.
Razor looked and acted like a killer, yet he could somehow speak with the heart of a poet when it came to the things he believed in. Here in the dark, she could almost imagine what it might feel like to be on the receiving end of so much passion—not simply as a random Breedmate Razor was honor bound to protect because his race demanded it, but as a woman he cared about personally. Intimately.
