Because riding him allowed me to fly the fuck away from here and find a small sliver of freedom.
Nila wasn’t the only one who wanted to run. Unlike my prey, I faced my demons and embraced them. I made them work for me, rather than control me, and forced them to submit by bowing at my fucking feet.
Just like I’d make her do the moment I found her.
The instant he saw me, Wings’ velvet ears pricked, his metal shoes clicking against hay-strewn cobblestone.
A stable boy appeared from mucking out the stalls. “Sir?”
“Saddle him. I mean to leave in fifteen minutes.”
You told her you’d give her forty-five.
I shrugged.
There was no point giving her any longer. Her feet would bleed from running barefoot. Her skin would bruise from whatever ludicrous illness she battled. And it would all be for nothing.
Contrary to what she thought of me, I wasn’t a monster.
I needed her strong.
Plus, I could grant hours, days even for her to run—but she’d never make it to the boundary.
I knew that completely and utterly.
I knew, because I’d been in the exact same situation she was—only it hadn’t been summer like it was now, but middle of winter. Training, he’d said. Masculine growth, he’d lectured. Run in the snow, become the ice that drips from boughs and stems. Use the primal part of yourself to seek out the edge of our property, or pay the price.
Three days I’d run, jogged, and crawled. Three days I didn’t find the boundary.
I was found the same way I would find Nila. Not through tracking or GPS or even the cameras dotted sparsely over the grounds.
No. I have much better means.
My lips twisted into a smile as I traversed the courtyard from stable to kennel. I whistled, listening to the scrabble of claws and excited yips inside. Then the hounds bounded from their home, bumping into each other, wriggling like they’d been electrocuted.
I stood tall, letting the sea of canines wash around my knees. Eleven in total, all with keen ears, sensitive smell, and the training of a hunter.
Leaving them to sniff manically around the yard, I headed into the tack room where supplies, medicines, and feed were stored for the horses.
My hands drifted over the blanket Nila had used.
My cock lurched, remembering how lost and young she’d looked with hay in her hair and eyes raw from tears. Yet she’d writhed on my fingers like a fucking minx. Her hips had tilted, seeking more as if she were born to be pleasured.
My balls ached for a release. Goddammit, I needed to come. Twice now she’d brought me to the edge, only to ruin the ending.
This wasn’t me—I was never this sex-driven or clouded. I couldn’t think straight.
The second I caught her, I was taking her. Rules be damned.
You think she wants you, knowing what you’re going to do to her?
The question caught me in a trap with sharp teeth.
I froze.
What the hell sort of question was that?
One I’d never had before or even contemplated. My hands curled. I’d never considered someone else’s wellbeing. Never been taught or shown how to be…compassionate. The closest thing I had to a friend was my younger brother, Kestrel. He somehow escaped the conditioning by Bryan Hawk. Kes took after our mother. God rest her soul.