Page 36 of Under Dark Skies

She took a long pause to gather enough courage to say, “I love you, Rafe, and I love what we could be together, but I miss feeling grounded. I miss the confidence of knowing I’m where I’m supposed to be and what I should be doing.” She searched his face for a reaction. Hurting him was the last thing she wanted.

His expression was thoughtful, not stricken. He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and nodded. “I understand,” he said before falling silent again.

It wasn’t a weaponized silence meant to kill conversation. Instead, it was generous, offering plenty of room for her to elaborate. It was a decent investigation strategy—it got to her, anyway.

Layla took advantage of the opening and asked the question that frightened her most, “Is this how it’s going to be from now on? Am I—are we—always going to be on the run, looking over our shoulders all the time, endlessly terrified about what’s coming up around the bend?” Though she hated the weak tremor in her voice, she couldn’t deny how bleak that kind of future sounded.

He reached out, brushed back a stray lock of her hair, and planted a tender kiss on her forehead. “I promise we’re not going to be on the run forever. I’m throwing everything in my power toward settling this once and for all. And then we’ll be safe,” he said. He sealed the promise by moving his mouth to hers.

The kiss was all too brief, but she felt his strength, his longing, and their bond in the motion of his lips and tongue. She responded with her own passion, trust, and determination to fight for them as hard as she could. When they broke apart, she whispered, “I believe you.”

He replied, “It’s hard to argue with Fate. We’ve been matched by one of the greatest possible forces. It’s right—I can feel it. And if humans and shifters can be fated mates, I figure that’s a pretty fucking powerful message.” Conviction rang in his tone.

She immediately harmonized with it. “We need to learn to live together,” she said. The truth of the statement steeled her nerves and she sat up straight, ready to move forward.

“Exactly!” he said. He squeezed her hand one more time before pulling away. He fished his phone out of his pocket to check their status.

He turned the screen so she could see the tickets and schedule before putting the device away. “It won’t be long now before we board. With any luck we’ll escape notice and be that much closer to finding some allies,” he said. Rafe casually leaned back on the bench and scanned the room for threats.

Layla crossed her fingers and wished.

Thirty-Two

Rafe

“Tickets, please,” the conductor said and held out a smartphone with the train company’s logo plastered crookedly across its back. His demeanor was neutral, professional, and clearly not interested in getting personal with the passengers. Rafe filed him under “Not a Threat.”

The man scanned their tickets, scribbled their destination on a little card, stuck it on the overhead storage hanging over their seats, and moved on without another word. He repeated the routine with the next row. Rafe turned to check on Layla.

From the minute the train cleared the station, her face had been practically glued to the window. He had to admit her enthusiasm was damned adorable. Hell, he’d probably been just as excited during his first time riding the rails—though he’d probably been around seven at the time.

He took in the surroundings, checking for concealed weapons, communication devices, and a specific brand of coiled energy. He suppressed a predatory smile. He’d perfected his own version of deadly readiness long ago.

Nothing set off his alarm and he let a bit of tension ebb away. Relaxing now would be a dumbass move, without a doubt. At the same time, he knew conserving energy whenever possible could mean he’d have a reserve when he needed it most.

Layla nudged him and said, “Don’t you just love that clackety-clack sound of the cars on the track? And the sway? ASMR has nothing on this. If it weren’t for the, you know—impending disaster, it could rock you to sleep, easily.” She rested her head against his arm and made a few little honk-shoo snoring noises.Ladies and gentlemen, please direct your attention to the world’s one and only half wolf-shifter, half marshmallow.

He kept his voice low and steady when he replied, “Agreed. It isn’t a bad idea to grab some shut eye if you can. I’ll keep watch.” She nodded and dropped off almost immediately. He made good on his word and maintained his quiet vigil.

He picked up the scent shortly after the first stop. One of the passengers had returned from the dining car carrying a plastic-wrapped ham and swiss sandwich, a soda—and a familiar hint of the strange wolf.

The hairs on the back of his neck prickled and a growl rose in his throat. He woke Layla with a gentle touch and said, “We gotta be ready to move, love. She’s on the train.” He inhaled, trying to catch more of the scent—and came up with nothing.

Maybe time will be on our side.

Layla startled and said, “How? What? No, never mind. That’s stupid. What do we do?” She shook her head and rubbed her eyes to shake off the grogginess of sleep. Her fingers gripped the armrest so tightly her fingertips went white.

He wanted to hold her and soothe away all her troubles. But that would have to wait until later. First, they had to get the hell off this train.

He breathed in again, searching for the other shifter. All he came up with was the faint whiff from the clueless diner. He had no idea he’d had a brush with an assassin.

Then again, if the dude isn’t the target, he’s in the clear—if he doesn’t become collateral damage, that is.

Rafe stopped wasting time worrying about the stranger and got out of his seat. He offered Layla his hand and pulled her after him. It made sense to head toward the front of the train, away from the dining car.

“There’s a chance we’ll avoid detection long enough to slip off at the next stop. I got lucky when I caught her scent, but I can’t guarantee she won’t pick up on mine,” he said, keeping his voice low.

“Got it,” she replied.

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