Total pages in book: 168
Estimated words: 159420 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 797(@200wpm)___ 638(@250wpm)___ 531(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 159420 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 797(@200wpm)___ 638(@250wpm)___ 531(@300wpm)
His own hands are in my hair, my braid wrapped around his wrist. “They don’t.”
“So then—”
“You and I, though?”
“Yeah?”
“We do.”
A breath leaves me in a rush, and this time, I say the words. The ones I kept inside of me the night I went to his barn, thinking it was the last time I’d see him. “The Phantom and the Princess.”
His eyes heat up and his hold tightens. “His Princess.”
My heart skips a beat at his correction, and I thank God he stole me again that night, instead of letting me go like I thought he was going to. “Your Princess.”
“And my Princess, she gets the best seat in the house.”
I clench my thighs around him and swallow, wordlessly.
“His name’s Tulip,” he tells me, looking me in the eyes.
“T-Tulip?”
“The horse you’re about to ride on.”
“Oh.”
“Named after my sister’s horse. We had to put him down a few years ago. Which is when I got him,” he keeps going.
“O-okay.”
“He’s gentle, yeah? Warms up easy. All you gotta do is hold on to me.”
I realize what he’s doing, putting me at ease. I lick my lips and whisper, “What’s the name of your horse? The white one.”
“Milly.”
I can’t believe I’m doing this, but my mouth pulls up in a tiny smile. “Pretty name.”
“Lynnie named her too.”
“Good choice.”
His eyes warm and he asks, “Ready?”
Pursing my lips, I shake my head, clinging to him.
But he snaps the reins anyway and goes up to my forehead to place yet another kiss on it. And then we’re off and I tuck my face in his neck and just breathe. Or try to. My impulse is to scream, but something about how I’m sitting, tucked so safely in his lap, the best seat in the house, keeps my panic contained. I’m still shaking, though. I’m still sweating and holding on to him like I’m going to plunge to my death at any second. Especially when Tulip has to hop over something or there’s a particularly jarring movement. But overall, I’m proud of myself for not throwing up.
All of that changes, however, when Radisson snaps the reins again and Tulip speeds up. And when I say speeds up, I really, really mean it. Tulip is going faster than the first horse, Milly, that he forced me to ride on. I don’t know what he’s trying to do, but I’m scared. I’m so fucking scared. No, I’m angry.
I’m furious.
I’m seething, and I tighten my limbs around him so fucking forcefully that I hope he’s suffocating. I hope I kill him before I die. But first I think I’ll sleep. I can’t believe I’m thinking that right now, but Tulip’s gait is fast and rhythmic. And since my eyes are closed and my face is tucked in his neck—that I’m going to bite in a second and give him a matching mark he was dying for—I’m starting to feel drowsy. It could also be the fact that I’m not all that heated anymore. The wind is whipping against my body and sweaty strands of my hair are flying around my face. It actually feels good to cool off.
It actually feels good.
Wait, what?
I’m reeling with this realization, that for the past however many minutes I’ve either felt angry or so relaxed that I forgot to feel afraid, when Radisson slows Tulip down to a gentle trot. My limbs loosen around him, and my breaths aren’t as choppy as when we began.
He brings his lips to my ears. “Open your eyes.”
I squeeze my limbs around him and then, slowly, very slowly do as he says. The first thing I see is blue. My favorite color. Blue water, calm and still and so freaking pretty that I gasp. It’s a lake, a very small one, surrounded by the greenest grass I’ve ever seen. Not more green than the eyes of the man I’m wrapped around, though. The man who brought me up here, to my favorite color.
“It’s beautiful,” I whisper.
I know he heard me and agrees with me when his chest moves with a deep, easy breath. Then, in a very low voice that’s still rough, he states, “It’s him.”
I go still around him, knowing exactly what he’s referring to. Or who.
“He did somethin’ to scare you off the horses.”
I want to shut my eyes again, but I keep them locked on the blue water. And I keep holding on to him and sitting in his lap, my favorite seat now and ever. Then I say the words I’ve never spoken to anyone before: “When I was ten, I s-saw him rape my mom.”
It’s his turn to go still, his breath pausing in his chest. I don’t blame him. I halted my own breaths, but only because I’m expecting the sky to fall around me. Or lightning to strike me down. I’m expecting my father to kill my mother. As irrational as this is, I can’t stop feeling it, and so for the next several seconds, I stay quiet and he lets me.