Sweet Beloved (Sovereign Mountain Bonus Content #3)

1. CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER ONE

DEACON

It’s hot, dusty on Sovereign Mountain. I’ve been rounding up cattle for the last six hours. And it’s not even two in the afternoon.

I turn the horse I’m on—one of Sovereign’s chestnut mares—to head up the little rise. Down below, bringing a herd of shorthorn cattle in, are a handful of teenagers on horseback. My eldest son, Slate, brings up the rear. He’s always the leader of every damn thing he does. He’s just got one of those personalities where people look at him when something happens.

I’m proud of him. He’s wild but smart, even for a seventeen year old boy.

They get closer, slowing. Cash, Sovereign’s boy, rides beside Slate. Behind them comes Gage, riding at an easy trot. He’s younger than Slate by a few years, but he’s already showing himself to be the horseman of Ryder Ranch. Cool as a cucumber around the colts, smart as a whip, he has taken up the mantle from me when it comes to training the barrel racers.

His younger brothers, Red and Remington, come along next. They’re still riding ponies at eleven and fourteen. I don’t usually give my sons horses until about sixteen. The shorter the horse, the less momentum they’ve built up before slamming into the ground after they get kicked off.

That was Freya’s idea. I was fine with letting them learn their lessons the hard way.

Heavy hoofbeats sound to my right. Sovereign, astride a black gelding, comes to a halt beside me. Our ranches used to be competing for the top spot in terms of wealth, but after the role he played in getting Freya and me together, there’s no competitiveness left over.

We’re all neighbors out here. If we can’t depend on each other, we can’t depend on anybody.

He clears his throat. “After this round, we should break for lunch.”

I take off my hat, wiping the sweat off my face. “Good by me.”

“You fine with being here all day?”

I shake my head. “Got some shit to do at home,” I say. “I’ll take the boys and head back around three, but we can be back the day after tomorrow.”

He jerks his head. “That works. Why don’t you head out now, get back home, get lunch. I’ll let you know what we need later on.”

I nod, and he shifts his weight, leading the way down to the pasture. We finish rounding up the cattle and putting away the horses. Then, Slate brings around the truck, and his brothers load into the bed. I toss a pack of water from the cooler into the truck bed with them, and swap seats with Slate, heading down the winding drive to Sovereign Mountain.

“Goddamn, it’s hot,” Slate breathes, crushing an empty plastic bottle in his fist.

“You can ride in the bed if you want,” I say.

He shakes his head. “I’ll be fine.”

He leans back in the seat. I glance sideways as I hit the button to roll the windows down. Slate is still growing, but he’s already almost as tall as me. Either Freya had some tall genes, or these boys just take after me. They’re all built like I am—broad, tall—and they eat more than a herd of cattle. I’ve taken to raising a lot of extra livestock just to keep them fed.

“Was Mom mad this morning?” Slate asks.

I glance over, confused. “No. Why?”

Slate might be built like a brick, but he’s more sensitive than I expected. And he’s got a soft spot for Freya.

“She was just real quiet at breakfast,” he says.

My mind goes to breakfast, but I can’t remember much of anything unusual. Then, it goes further, to last night. After the things we did, she’s probably worn out more than anything. I clear my throat, rolling the window down lower to get the air moving.

To say Freya and I are private would be an understatement. To everyone we know, we’re a loving married couple who barely do more than hold hands in public. The lock on our door is a deadbolt, and all our children sleep on the other side of the hall to ensure that image. But behind that door—that’s our little secret.

“She’s fine,” I say. “You know she’ll tell us if she’s mad.”

He shrugs. “True.”

Freya has grown in confidence in the years we’ve been together. At first, she was fiery but cautious. Now, she’s just as sweet as ever, but she knows how to speak her mind and stand her ground without looking to me for assurance.

We pull up at Ryder Ranch near about five o’clock. The boys bail out, heading for the house. I head into the barn to put some tools away. To my surprise, my wife is standing just outside Silver Phantom’s door.

“Hey, sweetheart,” I say.

She turns, giving me a look up and down. I’m all scuffed up, dusty from riding hard-packed trails. She’s prettier than all get out, wearing one of her summer dresses, feet bare.

I come up behind her, putting my hand on her hip. Through the thin cotton, I can make out the faint outline of her chastity belt beneath my palm. The strap that covers her pussy isn’t on—we don’t have as much time for it these days—but she still wears the ornamental part daily.

There it is—the spark that never leaves.

God, I love this woman.

She sighs when I brush her hair aside and kiss her neck. “You just visiting the horses?” I ask.

“Came to bring Silver Phantom some apple scraps.”

“She looks appreciative.”

Freya wriggles, turning to face me. “How was the branding this morning?”

“Same old.”

I brush a bit of hair from her face. The color is still rich bark brown like the trees deep in the forest, the prettiest shade. She has a few gray hairs coiled up in the depths of her curls. I love them. They make her hair glitter when she stands in the sunlight.

She takes my hand, and we make our way toward the house. It’s peaceful on the porch. As soon as we step into the hall, a barrage of noise hits us. Everything smells like dumplings and roasted chicken. My stomach twists in hunger as I kick the dirt off my boots. Faintly, I catch a little rattle coming from the kitchen. Eyes widening, Freya breaks away from me and bolts around the corner.

“You took the lid off!”

Oh no—goddamn kids know better than to do that. I come around the corner and find Remington standing by the sink, looking guilty as a dog caught chewing furniture.

“Sorry. I didn’t know it was dumplings,” he says, shooting me a glance.

I sink down at the head of the table. This is called fuck around and find out. I’m not intervening. Freya presses her lips together, fitting the lid back on the pot. She turns around and holds out her arm. Right away, Remington melts into her side and lets her hug him.

“It’s fine. They might be a little soggy, but it’s okay,” she says.

Sweet Freya. She never wants her children to be afraid. There isn’t a mean bone in her body when it comes to them. Me, she’ll buck and sass all day, but she has never been anything but kind to the kids. I’m the long arm of the law. She just gets to love them.

That’s her right after everything she went through.

“Sorry,” Remington says, staring at the ground.

She lets him go, pushing him away from the stove. “Make it up to me by getting everyone cleaned up and down to the table in fifteen minutes, okay?”

He nods, even though I know it’ll be Slate rounding everybody up, and leaves. Freya sighs, taking down plates and setting them on the table. Since it’s just us, I take advantage of the moment and grab her ass through her skirt. She yelps, shooting me a look that says she’s not even half mad.

“I thought you’d be tired after today,” she says.

“Tired of working,” I say. “Not tired of working out that pussy.”

Her brows shoot up, her eyes swiping over the kitchen to make sure we’re alone.

“I’m still sore from last night,” she whispers.

I wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her onto my knee. She smells so fucking good—vanilla, comfort, home. I nuzzle the side of her neck, inhaling.

“I think you can manage,” I say.

Boots sound on the stairs. She jumps out of my arms and starts fussing with the stove. Right on cue, my children file into the kitchen, chattering and tousling with each other, and take their places at the table.

Slate sits at my left, Gage next to him. Across from them are Remington and Red.

“You want a beer?” she asks me.

I shake my head. “We’re good with water.”

I like a good beer with dinner in the summer, but trying to mediate my younger sons is difficult. I don’t care if Slate drinks since he’s almost an adult. Hell, I don’t give a fuck if Gage has a beer here and there. I know they drink with Cash Sovereign sometimes. But it’ll set off the other two, asking why they can’t have one too.

It’s better to keep the peace. I’ll have a whiskey upstairs later.

Freya reaches out and takes my hand, looking over her full table. “Alright, let’s eat.”