CHAPTER 10 #2
I scramble, burying my hands in the coarse black mane.
I cling to the horse like a burr. Charon lands hard, his hooves slamming into the dirt, and immediately bucks, kicking his back legs out.
I am thrown onto his neck. He bolts. He takes off at a full gallop around the arena, terrified, blind with instinct.
"Elodie!" Alaric is running toward us, but he is too far away. "Pull the left rein! Circle him!"
I can't reach the reins. They are flapping loose. I am clinging to a runaway train. The wall is coming up fast. If he doesn't turn, he’ll crush my leg against the wood. Panic, cold and absolute, floods my brain. I'm going to die. I'm going to die in a stable.
No. The voice in my head is not my father's. It is not the victim's. It is the voice Alaric woke up last night. Show me the monster.
I sit up. I force my body back into the saddle, gripping with my thighs until my muscles scream. I don't have reins. I don't have a crop. I have my voice.
"STOP!"
I scream it. I don't plead. I don't beg. I command it with every ounce of rage and terror in my body. It is a primal sound, guttural and deep.
Charon hears it. He feels the sudden, violent clamping of my legs. He skids. His back hooves dig into the dirt, carving deep furrows. He slides to a halt, dust billowing around us, inches from the wall. He stands there, heaving, his sides expanding and contracting like bellows.
Silence falls over the arena. The only sound is my jagged breathing and the rain hammering on the roof.
I am alive. I am shaking so hard my teeth chatter, but I am still in the saddle.
"Elodie."
Alaric is there. He grabs the bridle, checking the horse. But his eyes are on me. He looks... stunned. And beneath the shock, there is something else. Something hot and dark and terrifyingly proud.
"You stayed on," he breathes.
I look down at him. My hands are tangled in the mane. My hair has come loose from the braid, wild around my face. "I told him to stop," I whisper, my voice trembling.
"You didn't tell him," Alaric corrects. He reaches up and places his hand on my knee. His grip is bruising. "You dominated him. I heard it in your voice."
He doesn't help me down. He stands there, looking up at me like I am a revelation. "I thought you would fall," he admits. "I was ready to scrape you off the dirt."
"You wanted me to fall," I accuse, the adrenaline turning into anger. "You wanted to see me break."
"Maybe," he says darkly. "But watching you hold on.
.. watching you conquer the fear..." His hand slides up my thigh again.
This time, he doesn't stop at the inner thigh.
He presses his palm firmly against the juncture of my legs, right over the seam of the breeches.
I gasp, the sensation electric in the aftermath of the danger.
"That," he growls, his eyes dilating, "was better than watching you break."
He pulls me down. I slide off the horse, my legs giving out as soon as I hit the ground. Alaric catches me. He slams me against the wooden wall of the arena. Charon is forgotten behind us. Alaric’s body covers mine, pinning me. He is breathing hard, smelling of horse and sweat and rain.
"You have a voice, Elodie," he whispers, his nose brushing mine. "You just needed a reason to use it."
"I could have died," I pant, pushing against his chest.
"But you didn't. You survived. And look at you." He grabs my hand and presses it to my chest, over my heart. It is beating so fast it feels like a flutter. "You are high on it. Don't lie."
I can't lie. The terror is fading, replaced by a rush of endorphins so potent it feels like a drug. I feel powerful. I feel invincible. I controlled the beast.
"It felt..." I trail off.
"Like power," Alaric finishes. He kisses me.
It is desperate, hungry. It is a reward.
He grinds his hips against mine, letting me feel how hard the moment has made him.
"This is what I am trying to teach you," he murmurs against my lips.
"The fear is the fuel. If you let it crush you, you are a victim. If you ride it... you are a queen."
He pulls back, his hands framing my face. "Do you understand now? Why I pushed you?"
"You're crazy," I whisper.
"And you are learning." He steps back, creating space, but the air between us is still charged. "Take the horse to the crossties. Untack him. Brush him down."
"Me?"
"You rode him. You care for him. That is the rule." Alaric turns and walks toward the tack room. "I will be in the office. If you need help... ask. But I think you’re done asking for help, aren't you?"
He leaves me alone with the stallion. I look at Charon. He has calmed down. He looks at me with that dark eye. He nudges my shoulder with his nose. A peace offering. Or a submission.
I reach out and stroke his neck. The coarse hair is damp with sweat. "We showed him," I whisper to the horse. Charon snorts.
I lead him to the ties. My hands are steady now. I undo the buckles. I pull the heavy saddle off, groaning under the weight. I get the brushes. I work in silence, the rhythm of the brushing soothing my frayed nerves. Stroke. Dust. Stroke. Dust.
Alaric is right. I hate him for it, but he is right. I feel different. Yesterday, I was a porcelain doll waiting to be shattered. Today, I am something else. Something with cracks, yes. But the cracks are being filled with iron.
I finish grooming Charon. He shines like black glass. I walk toward the tack room to put the gear away. The door is ajar. I hear Alaric’s voice. He is on the phone.
I stop. I shouldn't listen. Curiosity is a vulnerability. But I step closer.
"...yes, the incident with Vance was unfortunate," Alaric is saying. His voice is cold, business-like. "But handled. He won't be returning to the board."
Pause.
"No, Sterling. You don't understand. Vance isn't just off the board." Alaric’s voice drops. I have to strain to hear. "Vance had an accident this morning. Brake failure on the slick roads. Tragically fatal."
I freeze. My blood runs cold. The riding crop slips from my hand and clatters to the floor.
Alaric stops talking. Silence. Then, his voice, not on the phone, but directed at the door. Directed at me.
"Come in, Elodie."
I push the door open. Alaric is sitting behind a desk, the phone in his hand. He looks calm. He looks at me, and then at the riding crop on the floor.
"Vance is dead?" I whisper.
Alaric hangs up the phone. "Vance was a threat," he says simply. "To the facility. And to you." He stands up and walks around the desk. "I told you last night. I protect what is mine."
"You killed him."
"I removed an obstacle." He stops in front of me. "Does it bother you?"
I stare at him. This man is a murderer. He is a monster. He just admitted to cutting the brakes of a man's car because he touched my arm at dinner. I should be horrified. I should be screaming for the police.
But then I remember Vance’s hand on my skin. The slime of his gaze. The way he looked at me like meat. And I remember Alaric’s hand on my thigh. Alaric’s voice telling me to lean forward. Alaric saving me.
"No," I say. The word is quiet. Terrible. "It doesn't bother me."
Alaric smiles. It is the most terrifying smile I have ever seen. "Then the lesson is complete."
He reaches out and tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "Go shower, petite. You smell like horse." He leans in and kisses my forehead. "Tonight, we play duets."
I turn and walk out into the rain. I don't look back. I know what I am becoming. And God help me, I am ready for the next movement.