“Pull him to the left! Now!”
Colter.
I barely register him before a dark blur comes up alongside me, his stallion running hard. His hand shoots out, gripping Smokey’s reins below the bit, yanking the gelding’s head around in a tight circle. The horse stumbles, fighting the pressure, then finally shudders to a halt, sides heaving.
My hands shake so hard I almost drop the reins. I’m gasping, my entire body trembling as the adrenaline catches up with me.
Colter is already next to me, leaning toward me in his saddle, his hand closing around my thigh before I can even process he’s there. “Easy,” he says low, eyes flashing up at me, furious and relieved all at once. “You hurt?”
I shake my head, too breathless to answer.
He doesn’t look convinced. His hand lingers, steadying me in the saddle like he’s not letting go until he’s damn sure I’m in one piece.
I’m still trembling, my knuckles white on the reins, but no matter how tight I try to hold them, my fingers won’t stop shaking. They slip, useless, and Smokey sidesteps beneath me like he knows I’ve got no control.
Colter notices. Of course he does. His jaw flexes, and before I can argue, his hands are on me. Strong. Certain.
“Let go.”
“I—I won’t be able to?—”
“You don’t need to.” His voice is rough, final. In one fluid motion, he grips me by the waist and hauls me clean off Smokey’s back. A startled sound tears from my throat as he lifts me like I weigh nothing, settling me across his saddle. Right in front of him.
My back presses into his chest, the heat of him wrapping around me, his arm banded tight across my stomach to keep me steady. His other hand gathers Smokey’s reins, tying them around the pummel, leading the gelding along like it’s nothing.
I should protest. I should tell him I’m fine, that I can ride. But I can’t make myself move. Not when I can still hear the phantom rattle of the snake, not when the adrenaline has me lightheaded and shaking apart. Not when Colter’s grip is the only thing keeping me from falling apart completely.
“Breathe,” he mutters against my temple. His voice is softer now, but no less commanding. “I’ve got you.”
The rhythmic gait of his stallion carries us back down the trail, and it’s only then I hear the pounding of hooves coming up fast behind us. Lee and Jackson.
“Peyton!” Lee calls, panicked. “Shit—what happened?”
Colter reins in hard, turning on them with a glare that could burn the whole damn ranch down.
“You tell me,” he bites out. His arm tightens around me like a punctuation. “You left her. She’s green as hell on a horse, and you take off racing like a couple of jackasses? You think that’s funny?”
Jackson swallows hard, his grin long gone. Lee looks like he’s about to crawl out of his own skin.
“We didn’t—Colter, we didn’t know—” Lee stammers.
“You didn’t think,” Colter snaps, his voice like a whip. “You don’t leave someone behind when they don’t know what the fuck they’re doing. You hear me? You don’t take your eyes off her. Not for a second.”
Both nod quick, mumbling apologies, but Colter isn’t really looking at them. His gaze flicks down, searing into me, and when he speaks again, it’s quieter, meant only for me.
“That goes for you too, darlin’. You don’t go out here alone. Not yet. Not until I say you’re ready.”
My pulse skitters, heat pooling low in my stomach despite the way I’m still trembling. I should be furious at the way he orders me around. But all I can think is how tightly he’s holding me. How steady his heartbeat feels against my back when mine is all over the place.
Lee and Jackson mumble apologies again, but Colter doesn’t let up. His arm stays firm around me, keeping me pressed tight against him like he’s staking a claim.
“You think sorry cuts it?” His voice is low, dangerous. “She could’ve been thrown. Could’ve broken her neck. You’d have been halfway down the damn trail laughing while she lay in the dirt.”
Lee flinches. Jackson looks down at his reins. Neither of them dares open their mouths.
Colter shifts in the saddle, and I feel every tense line of his body behind me. His breath is hot against my ear when he adds, softer but far more lethal, “If she so much as comes back with a scratch because one of you was careless, I’ll make sure you regret it. You boys understand me?”
“Yes, sir,” they mutter, both quick and pale. Why do they call him sir? I’ve been wondering since the pool party. Pace barks orders and they ignore him, but when Colter does it, they snap into action as if afraid of the consequences. Colter reprimands the two of them like a boss, not like an older brother or friend.
