Chapter 13
Chapter
Thirteen
ELIZA
Dawn’s pink-tipped plumes fan across the sky. Dew cools the grass and brush around us.
Beneath my cheek, Kael’s chest rises and falls. The thud behind his ribs still stutters, but there’s almost a pattern to it again.
The gaudy sun’s rays drown out the shimmering brilliance of the marks that danced over his flesh last night.
Was it all a dream? Or did my fingertips really dance with starlight?
I shift. His arm tightens around me.
“Mine,” slips from his lips.
My pulse quickens. I try again, lifting my head, surveying the pasturelands for signs of Daisy or Tempest. At the edge of the treeline, so far away I have to squint, I make out a black form, tail swishing.
But how to lure a horse that rebels at my touch?
“Stop thinking,” the big man’s chest rumbles. “Sleep.”
I close my eyes, barely able to move beneath his heavy arm.
“Mine,” he repeats, firmer this time. And I know he’s awake.
I want to protest. Ask what he could possibly mean after more than a week of outright rejection—communicating through half-measured words and actions that I could never be enough.
My stomach twists, ashamed that I still want him.
But I do. More than ever.
Tears spill over my lower eyelashes, thoughts of the serpent from yesterday still fresh in my mind.
He jumped down from his horse, put himself between me and the rattlesnake. He took my poison. Three full doses.
His thumb drags lazily over my back, body relaxing back into unconsciousness. Or so I think until I hear the words, “I would do it again.” Almost as if he’s reading my mind.
“We should move,” I rasp. Get you back to the house. Call Mags.”
“Mags can’t do anything,” he murmurs, lips pressing against my temple once more. “You’re my medicine.”
“But—”
His grip tightens. “Stay.” Final.
I don’t know how many hours pass in and out of sleep. When I awaken again, the sun blares overhead, cicada and cricket calls pressing in on us.
I try to lick my lips, but my tongue’s too dry to wet them. I work to swallow the dust knot in my mouth, rasping, “We have to get out of the sun. Or we’ll end up with heatstroke.”
He reaches out, feeling with his hands until he finds the bottle sunk into the dirt next to us. He shakes as he strains to take a sip, then passes the whiskey to me.
I take a long drag, not a fan of drinking but needing something to calm my nerves and wet my throat.
“Can you move?”
“Have to,” he whispers, words dragging like they cost him. “The lady said so.”
I press a palm to his forehead. “Your fever’s still—”
“Run warmer than humans…”
“You have to stop saying that,” I hiss, mind still reeling.
“Why?”
“Because it’s not true.”
“Because you don’t want to believe it?” His tongue trips over the words.
“Because I can’t fathom anything else.”
We lie in silence for a long, hot moment.
“We’ll burn up out here. We have to move into the shade,” I urge again.
He tries to nod. It barely happens.
“It’s not far. I’ll help you crawl,” I say, eyes darting to a lone cottonwood by an outcropping of boulders. But who am I fooling? He’s far too heavy for me to budge. And he can’t even lift his head.
“Where you go… I’ll follow,” he says, fighting to open one turquoise eye.
I frown. He’s delusional, burning up, stuck beneath a blaring sun.
“Please, Kael.” My voice shakes.
“Alright.”
A rhythmic thud fills my ears. Predictable. Steady.
I stir in Kael’s arms, fighting for every inch. His strength is like steel. I can’t budge at all.
“Don’t,” he grunts, shifting toward me, putting our mouths inches apart, the only thing between us whiskey and heat.
“You have to let me go,” I scold, fighting to fill my chest all the way. “We need water and food. And you need… medicine.”
He doesn’t respond. That’s when I look at his arm again. Red, puffy, still very swollen. But the color isn’t as dark now. And the black networks of veins look fainter, too.
That’s when I hear it. A familiar thud of hooves draws closer. “Someone’s coming.”
He grunts, fighting to lift his head. He can’t.
“Help me sit up,” he grumbles, arm leaving me finally. My skin shivers at the loss of his burning touch, even as my chest happily expands and my aching muscles stretch.
Boots hit the dirt in front of us, a reddish-brown column rising. “What the hell happened here?” a man’s voice cuts through.
“Ash,” I say on a puff of air, face instantly relaxing as I sit up.
But his cerulean gaze is on Kael’s form.
“Town’s in an uproar you didn’t show for work today, Eliza. And when Mags found your horse still saddled during her morning ride, we started fearing the worst.”
“Me, too,” I confess.
“Josephine wouldn’t let me stop till we found you.” Ash grimaces, eyeing Kael. Mouth still bloody, arm a wreck, body limp.
“What happened to him?”
“Rattlesnake.”
The blond cowboy towering over us shifts uneasily, eyes darting between us. “He hurt you?”
“Me?” I shake my head, taken aback by his words. “No, it’s him. He needs help.”
Ash looks away, cursing low under his breath. “Felt the hum different last night. Should’ve known.”
“What?” Kael grunts, eyes struggling open. A brighter shade of Ash’s.
“Come on, old-timer. Got to get you out of here before you cause more trouble.”
I gasp. “You can’t move him. He almost died last night. He—”
“You don’t understand what he is,” Ash says, low and mean.
Kael tries to lift up on one elbow and fails.
“Should’ve never come here,” Ash growls. He looks at me. “Some folks aren’t made for civilization. You sure he didn’t hurt you?”
I blink hard, fighting for words from my parched mouth.
Ash cuts in, raising a hand. “Where are my manners?” But his gaze is fierce as it burns into Kael. He rifles through his saddlebags, returning with a cantle bag.
I lean forward, cradling Kael’s head and pressing it to his lips. Where we touch, heat still pulses despite everything. Water dribbles, falling. His lips barely move. Until he manages, “Enough.”
Ash’s forehead furrows, weight shifting on his heels. “Had to be more than a rattlesnake bite that did this.”
“What do you mean?”
“Seems an overreaction for something like… him.”
“He took three bites in quick succession,” I say, annoyed by the vitriol from the usually affable cowboy. “And I couldn’t talk him out of it. He did everything wrong in treating it. Tourniquet, whiskey, knife… sucking out the venom.” I shake my head, pressing my fingers to my temples.
Ash frowns. “Whiskey never hurt nothing. Get up, old man. You’ve given your boss a fright.”
I glare at Ash. “He wouldn’t let me get help.” My voice breaks at the end. “His fever’s still real bad.”
“He’ll make it. Always does.” Ash’s face is hard, arms crossed over his chest. “One day he won’t.”
Kael laughs, low and raspy, eyes rolling back. “Counting the days, friend?”
“You shouldn’t be here, and you know it.”
“Ash,” I repeat, voice threaded with anger. “He saved me.”
“To what end?” he asks through gritted teeth, eyeing the big man dressed in black and denim.
In the distance, more hooves thrum. I rub my hands over my face, then squint into the distance, making out a second rider with Daisy and Tempest. Her red hair flows long and wild. She could pass for thirty, instead of sixty, or whatever she claims to be.
Ash puts his hands on his hips, eyeing Kael suspiciously. “Trust you can sit a saddle, Guthrie?”
“You can’t mean that—”
Kael cuts me off. “Just have to get up first.” His hand slips when he tries to push up.
“Good, then you can sit one right out of town.”
“Ash,” I hiss.
But Kael’s hand comes up. “He’s right.”
Mags stops in front of us, eyes round as two dinner plates. “What happened?”
Ash rubs his stubbly chin, face bitter. “Snakebite. Says he can ride.”
Mags looks at me, forehead knitting. “And what happened to you?”
“He saved me,” I pant, heart racing behind my ribs.
“And now,” Kael adds in a low rumble. “Time to go.”
I reach forward, hand resting against his chest. The air tightens, then pulses, low and deep.
“Not now. You have to rest.”
Mags and Ash exchange a glance. Then they look toward the Starborn Range, where dark thunderheads already climb the sky.
“I’ll handle him,” Ash says darkly.
“But what does that mean?” I ask. It comes out like a plea.
Mags shakes her head. “You could use a hot bath, fresh food, and water by the looks of you. I’ll ride back with you.”
“But he’s my ranch hand, and he’s—”
“Fine,” Ash cuts in. “I’ve got him handled.”
I shake my head. “I won’t go.”
“Have to,” Kael cuts in.
“No, I have to make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m fine,” Kael growls, struggling to meet my gaze. “And temporary.” Pain still surges behind his eyes.
“Bouquet was goodbye.” Then, he looks away, staring at rock and sage. “Rattlesnake country. Not for me. Farewell, Miss Wakefield.”