“You better.” The voice on the other end of the radio says before sounding off.
“Bastard,” the gruff voice grumbles, his heavy footfalls thudding away before a door opens and closes.
Curses ring in my mind. I need to get to the driver. But what if I run into more shifters? I need to get Ketill, but the time is ticking down until this relaxing train journey becomes a coffin.
All I know is I can’t stay here. I bolt upright, coming face to face with a man with a mouth full of fangs.
“I thought I heard someone hiding here,” the gruff voice growls.
Chapter Five - Ketill
Fangs fly out of the shifter’s mouth as my fist connects with his ugly mug, and he goes down like a dead weight. I pull my hand back, blowing on my cut-up knuckles as the shredded skin knits back together.
Then, for ruining my moment with my soulmate—and just for fun—I bury my foot in the unconscious fucker’s gut, before heading back towards the cabin where I left the love of my life, whistling as I go.
Sure, I’ve only known him for…
I tug up the sleeve of my jacket to check my watch.
Twenty-eight minutes. I’ve known my treasure for twenty-eight minutes.
Smirking, I tuck my hands in my pockets as I stroll. My treasure might not know why he’s so drawn to me, but the stories of a vampire knowing their soulmate on sight are true. Now he just needs to speak the famous ‘I know you’ line every vampire’s mate says when coming face to face with Fate and admit his feelings. I doubt I’ll have to wait long.
My older brother, Einarr, told me all about love languages. He has a soulmate, so he should know. Not that I’m supposed to know about the man he secretly shadows like a hunter would a wolf, if that hunter was an overgrown, lovesick idiot. But give Einarr a sip of alcohol, and he’ll spill all his secrets.
Saving my treasure from leopards must be an act of service. The iced tea has to be gift-giving and quality time. The way he cupped myjaw is physical touch, and in the whole twenty-eight minutes of knowing each other, haven’t I offered nothing but words of affirmation? Not that it’s difficult when he looks the way he does, always rolling his eyes and scoffing to hide his little smiles and calling me an ‘idiot’ or ‘crazy, instead of just saying ‘I love you’ or ‘you’re handsome’.
Maybe I’ll give Einarr a call for advice. He might not have claimed his soulmate, but I don’t know anyone else with one, and my two other brothers would be useless. Maybe my father, Vidar. But it’s been years since we’ve spoken, and last I heard, he’s busy living as a husk in a rundown mansion.
All thoughts of my family flee when I hear the sounds of a struggle.
I sprint into the dining cabin, finding a shifter with his fist around my soulmate’s neck. Rage like I’ve never experienced engulfs me, consuming my every sense, so I don’t even register I’ve grabbed the shifter by the shoulders until he’s crying out in pain.
Surprised, the shifter releases my soulmate to try to fend me off. But he doesn’t get a chance.
BAM! BAM! BAM!
I slam his face into the marble counter three times, and it’s my second time in so many minutes to see shifter fangs scattering like chipped marbles.
Roaring, I throw the shifter into the table, and it splinters under his weight with acrash. I wait a beat, but the shifter doesn’t get back up.
“Are you okay, treasure?” I demand, spinning back to my soulmate, my blood pumping so hard that all I can see is red.
“Ketill, we gotta go!” he rushes out, scrambling over the slippery counter, wet with shifter blood.
“Did that fucker hurt you?” I take hold of him, helping him down. I try to check his neck, my heart racing faster than when I was riding atop the train. Humans are so fragile, and the idea of only having those twenty-eight minutes with him is a dagger to the heart. But my treasure slaps my fretting hands away.
“We don’t have time! We have to stop the train, it’s heading towards a bloody bridge thatthey blew up!”
The anger cools, freezes, then shatters. “Shit.”
I don’t question him, just grab his arm and start running out of the dining cabin and towards the front of the train.
“They drugged the water supply, so who knows if the driver is even awake,” he gasps, already out of breath.
I can’t help it, I throw my head back, my laughter bouncing off the walls. “This will be a story for the ages. Aren’t you excited to tell it, treasure?”
“You’re demented!” he shouts back, like he can’t believe he’s doing this and also can’t believe that a part of him is exhilarated. “Thomas. My name is Thomas.”
