White Horse Black Nights (The Godkissed Bride, #1)(22)

This thought sobers my mood as I pick up Myst’s tracks again where she exited the stream, and follow her still-damp hoof prints east. Well, Sabine won’t have any say in the matter of her bodyguard. She might loathe me, but she’ll have to suck it up and get used to me.

Her disdainful voice rings in my ears: I’m not surprised you’ve never had a pet. Or anything else to love.

But she’s wrong. I have loved. I have cared for another creature. And it royally fucked me up.

Jocki had no affection for any of the boys he managed. He acted like a half-decent surrogate father whenever the Valveres’ agents were around, but the moment we were alone in the dilapidated old stables he’d converted into our barracks, he reveled in punishing us. Starving us, taunting us, pitting us against one another. It wasn’t in his interest for any of us boys to be friends, so he made sure we weren’t. He wanted us to loathe one another so that the aggression would spill out in the fight ring to make for more realistic entertainment. Besides, we weren’t idiots. We knew there was no point in getting to know a boy you might break, even kill, the next week.

But Jocki kept fighting dogs in the old stables, too. Most of them were vicious curs off the street, just like us. Onno was different. He was so massive in size that he didn’t need to snarl to earn the other dogs’ respect. He fought in the dog fights just as we did in ours, but as a means of survival, not pleasure.

I liked Onno, and he liked me. I’d share whatever scraps of supper I had with him, and he would curl up against his cage’s bars at night, with me on the opposite side, to keep each other warm.

I should have known that was a big fucking mistake.

Jocki thought it would make his boys weak to have a pet. So that fucked-up brain of his devised a new kind of fight. Boy against dog. Once we were forced into the ring together, Onno wouldn’t even try to fight me. He just looked at me with his big brown eyes, knowing only one of us would be allowed to make it out alive. Letting that one be me.

I snap out of the dark past as Myst’s tracks reach a fork in the road. The forest path veers left, with the main road to Middleford continuing straight ahead. Sabine is riding a few feet to the side of the road to try to hide their tracks, but it’s easy to see they went straight.

What’s in Middleford? Her lover?

On the horizon, the first haze of morning crests. Fuck. How have I not found them yet? I can’t risk anyone seeing her during the daylight hours, when word could get back to Rian that his bride is running wild through the Astagnonian countryside. Or worse, someone could find her before me and decide she’s a tempting little morsel.

Moving faster now, I give myself over to the hunt. No more messing around. She’s had her fun. A part of me has always got a charge out of the chase. When Rian agreed to make me a huntsman, I took to it like a fish in water. It’s a pleasure to unleash my heightened senses to see what exactly I’m capable of.

My pulse raps in my veins, urging me on. I’m getting close. I block out all other stimuli and hone my senses on tracking the girl and horse.

The aroma of violets swells until I’m practically choking on it. Myst’s scent is there, too: wet horsehair.

I stop and close my eyes to listen.

It takes me a while, but I hone in on an animal’s labored breath. They’ve stopped to rest, but Myst is still breathing hard from the exertion. Focusing my attention more, I eventually pick up on Sabine’s breathing, too.

Slow and steady. She’s asleep.

A hard smile curls my mouth as I silently draw my bow and move through the forest. Myst will smell me coming, but by then it will be too late. Sabine will hear her warning snicker, wake up, and find an arrow aimed at her dear mare’s chest.

To save her horse, she’ll do anything. She’ll beg me for mercy with those perfect rosebud lips.

I spot Myst ahead, partially sheltered behind a rocky outcropping, eating grass with her head turned away from me. She’s slathered in dark mud to mask her white color, which would make her stand out starkly in the dark forest. Once more, I’m struck with Sabine’s resourcefulness—

But then I see Sabine, and my thoughts go blank.

She’s asleep, curled against a dip in the rocky outcropping that partially hides her. There’s mud all over her hands and bare feet, and she looks utterly exhausted, like a rabbit that’s run and run until its muscles gave out. My shirt is up around her hips, giving me an obscene look at her naked ass, rubbed red from riding all night.

My breath stalls in my throat.

By the fucking Immortals, I’m bursting with need. My body was already flushed with adrenaline from the hunt, and now it wants its prize. And gods be damned if I don’t want to claim Sabine as my reward. For days now, I’ve fallen asleep to her heartbeat. I’ve drowned in her violet scent. I’ve stroked my own hand after touching her silky skin. Now, more than anything, I want to taste her.

And I know it’s fucked up. She belongs to Lord Rian, not me. There’s no way I would ever touch her, and I’m plagued with guilt for even thinking of it. But Rian would forgive my desire, wouldn’t he? He’s trained with soldiers. He understands that men get aroused in battle as a purely physical response. Hunting is no different.

It doesn’t—doesn’t—have anything to do with the fact that she’s the most beautiful fucking woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.