Chapter 17 #2
My back presses into his chest, the heat of him wrapping around me, his arm banded tight across my stomach to keep me steady. His other hand gathers Smokey’s reins, tying them around the pummel, leading the gelding along like it’s nothing.
I should protest. I should tell him I’m fine, that I can ride. But I can’t make myself move. Not when I can still hear the phantom rattle of the snake, not when the adrenaline has me lightheaded and shaking apart. Not when Colter’s grip is the only thing keeping me from falling apart completely.
“Breathe,” he mutters against my temple. His voice is softer now, but no less commanding. “I’ve got you.”
The rhythmic gait of his stallion carries us back down the trail, and it’s only then I hear the pounding of hooves coming up fast behind us. Lee and Jackson.
“Peyton!” Lee calls, panicked. “Shit—what happened?”
Colter reins in hard, turning on them with a glare that could burn the whole damn ranch down.
“You tell me,” he bites out. His arm tightens around me like a punctuation. “You left her. She’s green as hell on a horse, and you take off racing like a couple of jackasses? You think that’s funny?”
Jackson swallows hard, his grin long gone. Lee looks like he’s about to crawl out of his own skin.
“We didn’t—Colter, we didn’t know—” Lee stammers.
“You didn’t think,” Colter snaps, his voice like a whip. “You don’t leave someone behind when they don’t know what the fuck they’re doing. You hear me? You don’t take your eyes off her. Not for a second.”
Both nod quick, mumbling apologies, but Colter isn’t really looking at them. His gaze flicks down, searing into me, and when he speaks again, it’s quieter, meant only for me.
“That goes for you too, darlin’. You don’t go out here alone. Not yet. Not until I say you’re ready.”
My pulse skitters, heat pooling low in my stomach despite the way I’m still trembling. I should be furious at the way he orders me around. But all I can think is how tightly he’s holding me. How steady his heartbeat feels against my back when mine is all over the place.
Lee and Jackson mumble apologies again, but Colter doesn’t let up. His arm stays firm around me, keeping me pressed tight against him like he’s staking a claim.
“You think sorry cuts it?” His voice is low, dangerous. “She could’ve been thrown. Could’ve broken her neck. You’d have been halfway down the damn trail laughing while she lay in the dirt.”
Lee flinches. Jackson looks down at his reins. Neither of them dares open their mouths.
Colter shifts in the saddle, and I feel every tense line of his body behind me. His breath is hot against my ear when he adds, softer but far more lethal, “If she so much as comes back with a scratch because one of you was careless, I’ll make sure you regret it. You boys understand me?”
“Yes, sir,” they mutter, both quick and pale.
Why do they call him sir? I’ve been wondering since the pool party.
Pace barks orders and they ignore him, but when Colter does it, they snap into action as if afraid of the consequences.
Colter reprimands the two of them like a boss, not like an older brother or friend.
The dynamics don’t make sense in my mind. Jackson is Colter’s brother, but their interactions don’t speak to that kind of dynamic. It’s confusing.
“Good.” He cuts the word sharp, final.
The conversation is done for them, but not for me. Because he doesn’t ease his hold. Doesn’t give me space to breathe. His hand spreads wide over my stomach, keeping me flush against him, and when he dips his head, I swear I feel the scrape of his stubble against my hair.
“You need to understand something, Peyton” he murmurs for my ears only. “Out here, you’re mine to look after. Mine to keep safe. It means you don’t get left behind. You don’t get lost. You don’t get hurt. Not on my watch.”
“I didn’t ask you to—” My voice wavers, weak even to my own ears. What is wrong with me that I can’t muster up my normal fiery tongue to spit back how he doesn’t own me. Where is my inner Miss Independent when I need her?
“No,” he cuts in, steel in the single word. “You didn’t. But you don’t have to. You’re in my world now. That makes you my responsibility. Whether you like it or not.”
My heart stutters, equal parts anger and something else I don’t want to name.
Colter turns his stallion forward again, ignoring the two trailing behind us like they don’t exist anymore. His focus is only on me, on keeping my body locked tight against his, on guiding Smokey with a firm hand. Every movement says one thing, clear as day:
I belong to him and that is the most confusing part of this whole thing.
The others hang back, quiet as ghosts, but Colter doesn’t so much as glance at them again. His hand remains firm on my stomach, fingertips brushing my ribs as if testing how deep my breaths go. I can’t steady them, can’t stop trembling, not when I’m pinned to him this way.
“Easy,” he says, low, steady—so at odds with the possessive bite of his earlier declaration. His voice now is warm and grounding. “I’ve got you. Breathe with me.”
I try, but my lungs don’t want to cooperate. My fingers ache from gripping the horn, knuckles white, until he peels one hand free and laces it with his own. My palm fits inside his like it belongs there, and he squeezes once, firm.
“That’s it,” he murmurs. “I’ve got you.”
The words are a promise and a warning in one, and I feel them in my bones.
Every stride of the stallion jostles me closer against him until I can’t tell where I end and he begins.
His chest is solid at my back, his legs bracketing mine, his breath brushing the sensitive shell of my ear.
It’s suffocating and safe all at once, and I don’t know what to do with the heat crawling up my neck.
I swallow hard. “I’m fine now. I can get back on Smokey.”
“No,” he says simply. No room for argument. “Not until we’re back. Not until I say so.”
It should infuriate me. It should make me shove against him, demand space. But instead, I sink back against him, worn out from fear and too aware of how steady his heartbeat is against my spine.
“Good girl,” he breathes so soft I almost think I imagined it.