I wrinkle my nose at him. “Absolutely not.”
“Sorry, that wasn’t a question.”
Before I can protest, his hands are circling my waist. Lifting me like I weigh nothing at all, he deposits me on Storm’s saddle. I start to hyperventilate as my brain catches up with what is happening.Oh no. This is not happening again.A terrified screech leaves my throat, and I grip onto Storm’s mane, searching for the reins.
“Relax, Saint. I have you. I’m right here. Trust me.” Calder’s soothing voice penetrates the foggy fear clouding my mind, and after a couple of calming breaths, I start to relax. Then he swings himself up onto the horse behind me, sliding me forward, nestling me back into the opening of his thighs.
He isn’t lying. He really does have me.
Even with that knowledge, it seems impossible to face this fear. “I know you want me to do this, but I can’t,” I whisper.
“What do you mean you can’t? You already are.”
I am?My heart hammers against my rib cage, threatening to break free. No, I’m not riding the horse, but I’m sitting on it, which is halfway to riding. It’s a terrible idea to look down, but I do it anyway. I guess I’m a glutton for punishment.
Panic grips me once again.The fall, the pain.It replays in the back of my mind.
“Nope. It’s not happening.” I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to push the memories away.
It doesn’t seem to help, and if anything terrifies me more, it’s forcing me to grip onto Storm’s sides like I’m a spider monkey.
“Open your eyes,” Calder orders, but I shake my head and tighten my grip.
“Saint.” The way he says my name, so smooth and soft, is a beacon of light slicing through complete darkness. Going againstmy instincts, I slowly open my eyes and peek at him, making sure I don’t look at the ground. Calder greets me with a soft smile, his blue eyes bright and alert. “There you are.”
“Help me down. Please.”
“I can’t do that. You’re strong, stronger than you give yourself credit for, and I want you to see that. See the beauty in it, see yourself the way I see you.” His hands slide from my waist and down to my thighs. Fear mixes with desire, making it hard for me to focus solely on being afraid. He adjusts my position, and though his touch is clinical, my body responds to him, a traitorous heat filling my belly. “Heels down. Back straight. Relax your grip.”
“Calder, no. I’m going to fall.” The air shudders out of my lungs, and I go back to hugging Storm like I’m about to be thrown off. Is he really going to send me on my way? I swear the second I get off this horse, I’m killing him.
“Remember how I told you to trust me? This is part of building that trust up. Trust that I’m not going to let you fall.” He’s settled behind me and curls the reins in his fist.
“We’re just going to walk. You don’t have to do anything but sit here and get used to riding on a horse.”
I swallow around the knot in my throat and press my lips together to keep from saying anything. This is making me see Calder differently, in a way that reminds me of the man I caught only rare glimpses of. The glimpses of him that drew me in to begin with.
Thankfully, he doesn’t say anything and starts walking us forward. Storm’s gait is smooth and even. Each step rocks me gently, a rhythm I didn’t expect.
After a few minutes, my death grip on Storm’s mane loosens slightly, and I find myself sitting up a little straighter.
Calder catches sight of the movement and rubs my thigh gently. “See, not so bad, huh?”
I don’t answer. Can’t answer. Because he’s right. It’s not bad. Terrifying, yes. But there’s something else too, something like exhilaration mixing with the fear. We circle a nearby clearing once, twice, three times.
By the fourth lap, I’ve released his mane entirely, my hands now rest on my thighs, the leather rein in Calder’s grasp higher up on my hip.
Stopping, he shifts to look at my face. “Fear and instinct are one and the same. Heart racing, breath caught in your chest. One keeps you alive, and the other makes you feel alive.”
“I guess I never thought of it that way.”
“How do you feel now that it’s over?”
Terrified. Exhilarated.Alive in a way I haven’t felt since before Martin Everett showed up bleeding at my door.
“Like I’m going to throw up,” I lie.
“Liar,” he says and gives me a half smirk.
