Chapter 16
BERNADETTE CRENSHAW
“Jesus, I was only half joking about the British romance,” I mutter as I stare out at the landscape from the rear exit of the house.
The word house brings suburbia to mind, rows of houses full of three bedrooms, and two baths if you’re lucky.
Frank Stein’s yard looks like it could hold more than a couple football fields from the looks of it.
I squint my gaze, shielding my face from the sunlight as I march my way toward the pretty paddock and stable I noticed this morning, the high boots I found in my room clomping across the clean-cut grass easily.
A smirk spreads across my lips as I wonder how pissy Frank will be when he finds out I’m not in my room.
But if he wanted me to stay in it, he should have said that.
When issuing orders, you have to be precise, or how can I follow them?
That’s what I used to tell my grandmother.
I laugh aloud into the cool spring breeze at the memory of my grandmother’s reaction to that very rejoinder, and something tells me Frank will be about as amused as she was, which is to say not at all.
If he knew he’s secretly given me my wildest dream on a silver platter he’d probably have an apoplectic fit.
Every monster girl reader’s dream would be to have a fling with a supernatural creature.
But I wasn’t prepared for a stay in the monster’s mansion, and doesn’t that just make me want to punch Aubrey right in the tit for not telling me what kind he is.
A pretty yellow flower catches my attention, swaying in the breeze in the field of sweet grass.
At the very least I can check out the outer buildings, and as I check things out, make sure there’s no creepiness happening.
I take a deep breath and fill my lungs full of the aromatic air.
It's been months since I’ve touched grass, and it feels amazing out here without the smell of diesel clogging my nose.
“Plus, this park looks way better than the one in front of Rose Avenue,” I mumble under my breath.
Life could be worse.
I notice a small building in the distance, and I beeline for it.
The old greenhouse door creaks from years of disuse as I push it aside. The place is empty, a brownish-green color stains the glass walls closest to the ground as earthy smells greet my nose, making me wish I had even an ounce of green thumb.
I glance up at the oval and curve-shaped glass overhead creating the dome-like formation I noticed earlier and my heart trills a little. I bet this place was beautiful once upon a time.
I exit back the way I came, my brows coming together at what can only be the sounds of hoofbeats in the distance. Frank Stein has horses.
A true smile pulls at my lips as excitement thrums in my mid-section.
I hurry through the tall grass, following the ruckus.
I haven’t ridden a horse since I was a teenager, but I still love them.
Grandmother loved to ride just as much as I did.
Horses were the one thing we agreed on, and she insisted I go with her every race she attended.
It was the only true hobby we ever had in common.
My grandparents even bought me my own horse and kept me outfitted in all the tack I could handle, but eventually I found riding polo riders far more entertaining than riding horses.
Once she caught me rolling in the hay with more than one horseman in a week, my polo riding hobbies went bye bye.
I round a copse of trees obscuring the view and come to a large field with a wood fence and paddock in front of a large building outfitted with at least three bales of hay, but what captures my attention is the horse.
My mouth drops. “Oh my god, you’re beautiful,” I gasp. Delight thrums in my middle when the black horse’s ears prick up at attention, but he doesn’t shy away.
His great big horsey head homes in on me and I let out a small squeal as he flicks his magnificent tail in response.
Obviously well cared for, the gigantic mammal stands well taller than me, a perfect size for a great big man like Frank Stein who has to be over seven feet tall.
The horse’s mane is braided with gold and silver beads that shimmer in the light, and the dark hair at his hooves mark him as likely being a big Percheron.
“My goodness, what a handsome boy you are,” I croon, walking slowly so as to not to scare him as I move toward the big metal fence to see him better.
“Oh my gosh. You have got to be the prettiest horse I’ve ever seen,” I breathe with a little laugh, watching how his hind quarters quiver with power. I’ve seen a lot of horses—he’s amazing.
“Hello,” I say, when it ventures closer to where I stand, several feet from the metal fence.
The horse is huge, so big he’s much taller than the small paddock and could easily become startled and jump it or hurt himself or worse, hurt me.
He knickers and tosses its head, sending streaks of light through its dark as night mane, making it look soft as velvet. I smile and move closer holding out a hand to sniff me, as the horse exhibits all the displays of a well-behaved and very well trained horse.
He’s so big I’m sure I’ll have no problem finding him on some Ascot server, if I can ever get my hands on my phone.
“Hi pretty boy,” I call out as I reach the metal fence, surrounded by the sounds of the grass whistling in the breeze and the horse’s short chuffs as oxygen enters and leaves his nostrils.
“My gosh you’re really really big, aren’t you?
” I decide he really must be a Percheron, or maybe even a breed of Shire with how tall he stands.
He hangs his massive head low, his black ears flicked forward in an attentive stance as he makes his way toward me, obviously wanting to investigate his new visitor.
I know better than to try and pet an animal I’m not familiar with, but he seems so sweet, like something out of a fairytale, that I don’t hesitate to reach out when he pushes his big snout over the metal fence and let him sniff his fill.
He snorts into my hair, making a happy sound, and I laugh as he moves to nuzzle my cheek, his overgrown nostrils the size of my head it seems like.
A sloppy kiss comes next as the gigantic beast acts more like a puppy than a horse. “How does Frank Stein have such a sweet boy like you, huh?” I ask, rubbing and scratching at his thick mane and the underside of his chin. He snuffles a bit and goes back to nudging me with his big head.
His tail swishes as he whinnies happily and before I know it, I’m losing track of time, playing with probably the biggest horse ever.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” A voice shouts in the distance.
Dread pulls at my gut as I fix my glasses on my nose and twist over the horse’s head to see Frank Stein running up the dirt path near the front of the horse barn near the metal enclosure, wearing a white shirt and black dress pants like he’s fresh from the office.
Jeez, does the guy ever stop working?
“What?” I ask, feeling a frown overtake my face almost immediately.
“Get out of there,” he yells, his expression madder than I’ve ever seen as he continues to run at me.
My hands tighten on the horse, as short as I am, I can barely reach his belly, but I rub one last time and pat the animal. “Ugh, okay. I’m coming, I’m coming. Don’t get your luxury boxers in a twist,” I sigh.
Knowing Frank, he probably has some work for me and must have been super pissed when he didn’t find me in my room.
“Run, damn you!” he yells.
A wave of heat caresses my back reminding me that I really do need the sunshine and my brow wrinkles. “Sorry to disappoint you Frank, but I don’t run.” I walk back to the fence sedately.
“Dammit woman, for once in your life will you listen,” he barks out.
Gah what a grump. Ah well, I can always come back tomorrow.
I turn around to wish the horse a farewell, and my heart stutters in my chest at the sight before me.
A scream flies from my lips as I scramble backwards to get away. “He’s on fire,” I shriek, the words ridiculous because the horse isn’t just on fire—he’s ablaze.
The horse’s mane is an inferno, flames climbing at his hooves where fur used to be and out of his eye and nose holes.
“Holy shit.” A supernatural horse. My brain finally catches up to the party as I turn to head toward the metal fencing just as Frank leaps over it, putting himself between me and the gigantic fire-breathing horse.
“I know. Back up, Brom,” he growls, a frown puckering into a deep V at his brow.
I stare slack-jawed as he throws his arms wide and forces the animal up onto two legs.
“I told you to stay in your room,” he says, turning his anger on me.
The horse squeals angrily, striking the air with his huge hooves inches from Frank’s face, who turns, putting his back to the horse to glare at me.
“Why do you never listen? This is your fault.” He utters while the horse gallops angrily around the paddock, starting off tiny fires anywhere grass stupidly thought to make its home.
“How could I have known you have one of him?” I announce, pissed he thinks to be mad at me when he didn’t warn anyone about the burning horse. I watch in amazement as the horse gallops around again, his hooves and mane still blazing, but it doesn’t cover his body like before.
The giant thing moves to trot toward us, extinguishing himself as he does, his head low again.
“Don’t even think about it,” Frank snaps, leaving me confused for moment because he’s not talking to me, he’s speaking to the horse.
He suddenly lets out a string of curses and plants his big hands on his hips.
The horse whinnies, the sound loud as he nudges at Frank’s shoulder, obviously wanting to get near me again, but Frank stops him. The big animal snorts and a strong scent of brimstone fills the air as I marvel at how his mane is back to normal, his short black fur short and velvety like satin.
“You fucking would play nice with the most venomous woman on the planet,” Frank scoffs.
“What is he? How do you have a horse like this?” I ask, letting the insult roll off as I turn to stare at him, knowing I’m not leaving until I get some answers. Not when things like this exist.
“He’s not mine,” he barks out, his tone annoyed.
“Then whose is he?”
“It’s none of your concern, alright?” he says, wedging himself between us when the big horse tries to charge a bit toward me.
My brows knit into a frown across my forehead. I stomp one foot in the dirt and cross my arms over my chest. “None of my concern? He was just on fire. I am not leaving here until I get answers Frank. Are there more of him?”
His shoulders bunch and move as he pushes at him, and I marvel at his strength a moment. “For fucks sake, do you think he would be kept secret if there were more?”
“Right, what’s his name?”
“His name is Brom Bones.”
Oh my gosh, no way. “And he just happens to live behind your house?” I ask, putting up air quotes.
“What’s behind my home is none of your business.”
“Could you be more rude? Hello, I’ve known supernatural creatures are real for months and haven’t said anything. I also just found out flaming horses exist, and I didn’t lose my shit, did I? No, I didn’t, so chill,” I say.
Brom nickers softly as if to punctuate my point, veering around Frank’s big body to push his big head to my chest for cuddles, almost knocking me to the ground.
“Irrelevant. Now, come on,” he gestures his arm toward the gate. “It’s not safe here. Brom usually doesn’t like anyone, and you’re lucky you’re still alive.” He starts shoving the big horse away.
Dusting myself off, I take a few steps toward the gate but turn when I hear scuffling behind me. A loud grunt from Frank as Brom gets frantic trying to plow over Frank to get to me again.
“Does he need a ride or something?” I ask, alarm rolling through me at how anger literally sparks in Frank’s gaze at my words as Brom starts prancing and neighing.
“Can you not keep your mouth shut for five fucking minutes woman,” he bellows. “No, we are not going for a ride.”