Chapter 29 #2
The foal stumbled a step, then righted himself, pressing closer to his mother. Enya’s lips quirked. “He’s got attitude already.”
Rowan huffed a laugh. “That’s going to be fun when we put him out in the pasture with the other mommas and babies.”
She shot him a look. “We should take some lawn chairs out in the pasture and just waste a day or two watching them all playing.”
“I think,” he said, pushing off the door, stepping up behind her, “that I’d be sitting all by my lonesome in those chairs, because you’d be playing with the horses.”
She didn’t pull away when he slid his arms around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder. Instead, she leaned back into him, her body fitting against his like she was made for him and him alone.
For a second, Rowan let himself pretend this was all there was to his world. No missions. No ghosts. No blood on his hands. Just warmth, and quiet, and this woman in his arms.
This is the life.
I could get used to this so damn easily.
His phone vibrated and beeped with an incoming call. Rowan fished it out and answered it without looking at the screen, “Salieri.”
“Rowe, you planning on hiding in the barn all night,” Gael said, “or you gonna come brief me on what the hell actually happened out there?”
Rowan sighed, his breath ruffling Enya’s hair. She turned in his arms, her hands coming up to his chest. “You gotta go?”
He should go. He knew he should go, but he didn’t want to. Damn it, he wanted to spend more time with her. Wasn’t that a mindfuck, the ultimate warrior who wanted to just forget about war and missions to spend time with a woman in his arms, a new foal in his barn, and peace in his soul.
“Gimme an hour,” he told Gael, “I’ll meet you in the war-room.” He didn’t wait for an answer, pressed end on the call, and tucked the phone back into his pocket. He cupped Enya’s face, his thumbs brushing her cheekbones. “Come with me,” he said.
Her brows lifted. “To the war-room?”
He shook his head. “My office.”
There was a heartbeat of silence, then her lips curved in a slow and teasing smirk. “You just want me alone in a room with a lock on the door.”
“Damn straight.” There was no point in denying what was true.
He leaned down, pressed his mouth to hers, and kissed her slow and deep, until she made that little sound in the back of her throat, the one that made his pulse race, his balls ache, and his cock stand to attention.
“Yeah,” he murmured against her lips. “I do.”
She took his hand and let him lead her out of the stall, down the barn aisle, past the curious snorts of the other horses, into the quiet of his office.
Rowan shut the door and locked it.
Enya turned to face him, her back against the wood, her breath coming just a little faster. “You’re gonna get in trouble with your brother for hiding away with me in the dark.”
“Worth it.” He stepped into her, caging her against the door with his arms. “It will definitely be worth it.”
She laughed, but it was shaky. Her hands came up to grip his wrists. “Rowan—”
He cut her off with his mouth, kissing her hard and deep, until she melted against him.
She tasted like sugar and coffee, like the diner’s peach pie.
Damn it, she was starting to taste like home.
His hands slid down, gripped her hips, and pulled her flush against him.
She gasped, her nails digging in, and he swallowed the sound, his body reacting like she was the only thing that had ever made sense.
“Fuck,” he groaned against her lips, his forehead dropping to hers. “I was not supposed to be taking advantage of you.”
“Hate to break it to you, cowboy.” Her breath hitched. “It’s not taking advantage of me when I want this just as much as you do.” This time she kissed him, slower, deeper, and hotter, scrambling his mind and driving him insane.
His hands slid under the hem of her hoodie, and her skin was warm and smooth under his palms. She arched into his touch, her mouth hot, her body pliant. He could’ve stayed like that forever—getting lost in her, letting the rest of the world just roll on by without them.
The office felt smaller than ever, the air dense with the aftermath of their fervent kisses, resting against the closed door where shadows draped over them, their breaths mingling as they clung to the simple presence of one another.
Rowan lifted his head to meet Enya’s gaze, the clarity of her wide eyes anchoring him, cutting through the fog of desperation and desire.
Beep. Beep.
Cockblocking, fuckers. Jeez.
He yanked his phone out of his pocket and glared at it. before he answered. “I said give me an hou—”
“It’s been an hour and a ha—”
Shit, he still hadn’t told her about El Pastor. She lived in the same house as the war-room. He didn’t want her to hear what happened without some bit of warning.
“I’ll be there soon.” He ended the call and tossed his phone across the room.
“I don’t think you were supposed to do that.”
“Enya,” he started, his voice a rough whisper, “I need you to know something. It’s important.”
She blinked up at him, confusion knitting her brows. “Okay?”
Fuck. I hate this.
I don’t want fucking nightmares between us.
Rowan’s heart pounded beneath his ribs. He knew he should have told her sooner, under different circumstances, but the opportunity had slipped through his fingers as he’d been swallowed whole by the intensity of them together.
Now, with Gael all up his ass for the debrief to begin, he had to just get it done.
“You know I was in a country I can’t name chasing bad fuckers to rescue someone, right?
” he began, watching her face carefully.
“The man we were sent to rescue was taken by El Pastor’s network. ”
The mention of that name, the name that had haunted her nightmares and shredded her peace, made her stiffen. Her eyes widened, fear and memories flitting briefly across her expression, but she stayed silent, her fingers clenching his forearm as if willing him to continue.
“I—” Rowan hauled in a breath, grounding himself with the vehemence that surged through his blood, remembering that final confrontation, the raw, animalistic rage that drove him past any semblance of mercy. “He’s dead, Enya. I made sure he can never come after you again.”
For an instant, relief flickered across her features, the understanding of safety taking root. Then, as swift as lightning, it shattered, giving way to a storm of emotions. Her eyes welled up, tears spilling over and rolling down her cheeks.
Rowan’s gut twisted; he hated being this powerless to help her navigate the wreckage of her reaction.
“Darlin’…” His voice faltered as he cradled her face in his hands, thumbs wiping futilely at the tears that wouldn’t stop. “I— I thought it would help, knowing he can’t hurt you.”
But her sobs intensified, wracking her slender frame with a grief too complicated for words. It cut straight through him, the sight of her unraveling, and every tear was a punch to his chest. Every shaky breath a reminder of how deeply she’d suffered under the bastard’s orders.
Her arms wrapped around his waist, clinging to him like a lifeline in a turbulent sea. “I’m sorry,” she choked out between sobs, burying her face in his chest. “I don’t know why—I just…”
“Hey, hey,” Rowan murmured, holding her tight, his hand stroking the back of her head, trying to steady the trembling. “You don’t have to apologize, not for this.”
He wanted to say the right things, wanted to be everything she needed right then and there, but he had no freaking clue how to traverse the murky waters and the unfamiliar tide of emotions.
This wasn’t a battlefield he understood.
There were no orders, and he had zero clear objectives.
What he did have was the woman who meant more to him than anyone ever had before, breaking apart in front of him, and he was fucking helpless to fix it.
“It’s over,” he kept saying, like a mantra, hoping against hope that the repetition would help or at least make sense. “He can’t get to you anymore, Enya. He never will.”
Her sobs eventually subsided into quiet hiccups, and Rowan coaxed her to sit, their bodies folding into the worn couch by the wall. He tugged her onto his lap, his arms enveloping her, creating a cocoon against the chill of the air sneaking through the half-open blinds.
The gentle rhythm of her settling heartbeats under his touch, combined with the steady rise and fall of her chest, brought him a glimmer of calm amid the tempest of his thoughts.
Her vulnerability was laid bare before him, yet paradoxically, it was her resilience that shone brightest, clawing its way in through the cracks on the crumbling wall around his heart.
When Enya could finally speak, her voice came out small, but stronger somehow, her fingers idly tracing patterns on his arm. “I think… I think it’s just the finality of it. Knowing he’s really... gone. It’s like I can breathe, but it’s overwhelming all at once.”
He rubbed his chin on the top of her head. “Yeah, I get that,” he murmured. “It’s gonna take time. I’ll be here though, through every step, okay?”
She nodded, a shaky little smile breaking through as she leaned against him, her body softening against his, like an echo of all the whispered reassurances they’d exchanged in the kitchen, in the barn, under a blanket of shared aches and nightmares.
“Thank you,” she whispered, her warmth seeping through his bones like a balm. “For telling me. For… everything.”
Rowan tilted her chin up, brushing his lips softly over her forehead, letting the gentle touch speak to all the things he couldn’t yet put into words. “Always, Enya. I’m not going anywhere.”
They sat together, bathed in the dimming light of the setting sun, the room wrapped in a silence that had always been his sanctuary, his stronghold.
The war-room could wait. It would have to wait, because right now there was no place else he wanted to be than on this couch, in this room, with this woman as they pieced together the cracked fragments of their worlds, hand in hand, heart to heart.