Bound By Blood- Chapter 22

Angelo pushed the air fryer basket back in place after checking the fries and hummed lightly under his breath as he turned back to the stove. Picking up a spatula, he twirled it between his fingers thoughtlessly as he stared down at the burgers that were sizzling in a pan. The heady smell of seared beef filled the kitchen, making his stomach rumble in hunger. Having skipped lunch and worked late to clean up Ashford, he was tired and really looking forward to sinking his teeth into the food he was preparing.

As it had a hundred times in the last two days, Angelo’s mind turned back to Kassia. When he and Cyrus had woken her up that morning, she had obviously still been tired, and all the hard work she had spent the day doing had taken an even greater toll on her weakened body. Which sent him on a whole other path of thought. Why, as some sort of uber vampire, was Kassia so weakened after everything that had happened? Was it because she was basically human with a little extra oomph? Was she getting enough protein? He thought back to breakfast, where Cyrus and his big mouth had made her lose her appetite, and she hadn’t finished eating. A crease formed between his brows and he went to the fridge, opening it up and snagging the last bit of bacon left in the package from breakfast. It would be delicious on the burgers and give Kass a little more protein.

Just as he tossed the bacon into the pan with the burgers, Angelo heard the unmistakable sound of the kitchen door opening and swinging closed. He didn’t need to look to know it was Cyrus. His smell warred with the burger smell, but Angelo would know Cyrus’s presence anywhere. “What do you want, wolf?” he asked lightly, flipping one of the burgers.

Long silence greeted his question but Angelo didn’t bother turning. Cyrus would answer when he wanted. A few moments passed, then he finally spoke.

“Your vampire is asleep on the couch.”

“My vampire?” Angelo asked, still not turning, mostly just to hide the smirk that threatened to appear. “What makes you think she’s my vampire?” He wasn’t surprised that Kassia had fallen asleep.

“You two seemed awfully friendly back there,” Cyrus grumbled, and Angelo got the impression he had leaned against the far wall.

Probably crossed his arms and everything, Angelo thought wryly. Out loud, he said, “I would like to be friends with her. How often am I going to meet a vampire that doesn’t immediately try to rip my face off? Besides,” he twisted his head to give Cyrus a shit-eating grin. “She’s pretty cute.”

“She’s a blood drinker, Angelo,” Cyrus growled between his teeth. Angelo just shrugged, flipping another burger.

“Not like I haven’t had my blood sucked out of me before. What we should really talk about is the way you spent most of the day staring at her.” Satisfied with his burgers, he tossed them onto a plate and turned to face Cyrus. The big man’s face was stiff, but it was impossible to hide the pink tips of his ears- his usual tell when he was embarrassed. Angelo set the plate with the burgers down on the kitchen island, leaning against it to give Cyrus another mischievous grin.

“You can’t pretend you weren’t, Cy.” He tapped his temple with a finger. “If there’s one thing I am, it’s observant. You watched her all day.”

Dropping his arms, Cyrus stalked to the island and yanked out one of the stools, taking a seat. “I was…concerned…that she would try to escape.” The last part came out rushed.

Angelo just snorted. “Yeah, sure. As if she would get past half the fucking pack that was also staring her down all day.” He gave Cyrus a droll stare. “Lie to your mother, not me. What’s really going on?”

Cyrus leaned back in his seat, dropping his head back. “I don’t know what the fuck to do, Angelo. I had this whole picture of her being a monster, but she just seems like she’s scared of everything. Most of the pack blames her for the whole disaster and some part of me does, too. A bigger part blames myself. If I would have left her there on the road I found her on, none of this would have happened. If I would have killed her like I have countless other vampires, our pack mates wouldn’t be dead right now.”

Angelo didn’t miss the way Cyrus looked unhappy at the thought of killing Kassia. Truth be told, he didn’t like it, either. Neither of them enjoyed killing, and certainly not women. Breathing out heavily, Angelo drummed his fingers on the counter in thought. “I don’t think anyone is really to blame here, Cy. Maybe that dandy-looking motherfucker. But the whole situation could’ve been handled better by everyone. Even me. Hell, I think the only person that wasn’t behaving like a jackass was Jack.”

“Jack?” Cyrus asked, leaning forward again.

Angelo nodded. Behind him, the air fryer pinged again, and he turned to check on the fries, satisfied that they were cooked. “Yeah. The kid was hanging out with Kassia every day. They had a plan to show everyone that Kass was actually friendly so you might be convinced to let her go.” Shaking the fries, Angelo dumped them onto another plate. “Kassia was reluctant, of course. She wants to go home, but I think she was wary of trusting anyone, even Jack. That girl has some serious trust issues.”

He returned back to the island, placing the plate of fries down. Cyrus reached out, snagged a fry, and took a thoughtful bite. “So,” he started as he chewed the still-steaming fry. “What was your part in all of this? How did you two get so close in the few days I was gone?”

Angelo rubbed tiredly at his eyes as he leaned his elbows against the island. “I watched her, Cy. For the entire time. When I had to sleep, Hawk or Pierce took over for me. I couldn’t figure out how she was so obviously a vampire yet somehow not a vampire. She likes reading and music. She likes to spend time with Jack, no matter how annoyed she pretends to be.” He fixed Cyrus with a pale stare, willing his friend to understand. “Kassia isn’t our enemy, and she never has been.”

Cyrus looked uncomfortable, his eyes tightening and his hands reaching up to restlessly tie his hair back. “I know that. At least, now I do. But the tribunal is in a few days and the elders are going to want more than me saying how she isn’t threatening at all. They’re not exactly known for their leniency.”

Angelo just grunted in response. His hair fell back over his eyes and he brushed it away immediately. The elders were all a bunch of decrepit hard-asses that liked to wield the power they thought they had. When John was around, they were perfectly loyal little subjects, doing whatever it took to get his approval. When John was out of town, they behaved like they ran the pack. Angelo wasn’t a wolf so he technically wasn’t held to the same laws they had, but, as much as he had wanted to wipe the old fools off the face of the earth, Cyrus would take the punishment for it. That was unforgivable. He and Cyrus had been good friends for centuries, and Cyrus was the one and only person that Angelo was loyal to. He had sworn his loyalty long ago and hadn’t wavered once in all that time.

The door to the kitchen opened and a freshly-showered Jack walked in with a sleepy, rumpled Kassia. Her black hair, which usually seemed to be messy, was flattened on one side and going in every which way on the other. Red sleep lines showed brightly on her pale skin, and her eyelids drooped low as she stumbled in. Without a word, she clumsily scrambled into one of the island chairs next to Cyrus, seemingly not noticing the way he stiffened beside her. Jack took the seat on the other side of Cyrus, running a hand over his wet hair and making it stick up in almost the same chaotic way as Kassia’s. He gave a broad, boyish grin to Angelo.

“Man, it smells so good in here. I’m starving!”

Giving Kassia a bemused glance, Angelo returned Jack’s grin and went about pulling down plates and setting them down in front of the others. He then pulled condiments and sodas from the fridge, lining them up in the middle of the island so everyone could grab it. When Kassia, weaving in her seat, made no move to grab food or her drink, Angelo made an annoyed noise before snapping his fingers in front of her sleepy face. “Kass! What do you want on your burger?”

Kassia gave him a small, beatific smile. “Hmm…Just ketchup and mayo. And cheese…pickles….”

Angelo paused. Kassia blinked blankly at him, one of her eyes shutting before the other, giving her the appearance of some skinny, exotic frog. Forcing himself to not laugh, Angelo went about making her two burgers the way she asked, adding a heap of fries to her plate. He slid the plate in front of her. “Eat your food, then you can go back to sleep.”

He watched her consider the food before slowly picking up her burger and taking a bite, chewing automatically without much thought behind it. Her eyes remained unfocused as she nibbled her way through her burger. Jack leaned around Cyrus to watch, while Cyrus started going over the details for the run. Angelo kept a close eye on Kassia as he listened, noting the way she swayed gently in her chair. She finished off the first burger and picked up the second, moving on autopilot as she started on it. Halfway through the second burger, she was pretty much asleep sitting up. Tilting to the side, she slumped against Cyrus’s arm. He tensed in his seat, but made no move to push her away from him. If anything, he adjusted the way he sat so she could lean more comfortably into his side. He polished off his last few fries and, in a move that was so smooth it almost looked natural, Cyrus leaned back in his chair and rested his arm on the back of Kassia’s chair, gently moving her so she was supported in the crook of his arm and side.

Angelo gathered their plates, emptying the scraps in the trash can and placing them in the sink before turning back to Cyrus. “I’ll carry her out to the couch so she can sleep.”

Cyrus grunted. “You can take the couch, she can take my bed. I won’t be home to use it anyway.”

At that, Angelo’s brows shot up, mirroring the way Jack’s brows did the same. “Alriiiiight,” he drawled. “I’ll put the little monster to bed, then.”

Cyrus looked down at the watch around his wrist and sat up, again carefully moving Kassia so he didn’t jostle her. She made a small noise of protest but settled down with a soft snort that made Jack laugh. “We’ve got to get a move on. I’ll see you in the morning.” With that, he stood, clapping Jack on the back as he did. Jack got up and followed after giving Kassia a final, concerned look. Angelo made a shooing motion at him and Jack reluctantly waved as both he and Cyrus exited the kitchen.

***

Kassia woke slowly, blinking at yet another unfamiliar white wall. She wasn’t sure how long she had slept but her limbs felt leaden and sore, and she really just wanted to roll back over and go back to sleep. The bed was cozy, and the comforting scent of Cyrus and detergent cocooned her. Just as she was about to fall asleep again, a rustling sound at the end of the bed drew her attention. Suddenly wide awake, she sat up, holding the blankets up to her chin. The pale light of sunrise lit the room so she could clearly see the broad, tattooed expanse of Cyrus’s back as he dug through his dresser. He was wearing fresh black fatigue pants he usually wore with a holstered gun already tucked in the back waistband. On his back, black swirls of ink drew her eyes. High on his right shoulder blade, there was the tattoo of a snarling wolf with fur that bled into black feathers and an odd, stylized symbol that almost looked like some sort of arcane sigil. Down his spine was a line of runes that spelled out “Until Valhalla”. Along his left side was a dark, grinning skull with spiders crouched in the eye sockets. His arms were heavily tattooed in a dizzying puzzle of angels, demons, running wolves, peering eyes, and crows, all depicted in exquisite detail. How she hadn’t paid closer attention before was beyond her, but having it all laid out, lovingly lit by the first touch of dawn, made something tighten low in her body.

Tendrils of thick black hair hung in a messy bun low at the nap of his neck, a few shorter strands having escaped around his face. They fluttered as he shut the drawer quietly and turned, a black shirt held in one of his hands. Cyrus’s face was both thoughtful and grim at the same time, like he had a lot on his mind, and none of it was pleasant. Kassia’s eyes swept over his face, his shuttered amber eyes, high cheekbones, proud nose, and sharp jaw that was dusted in stubble. She imagined what that stubble would feel like scraping against her skin, what it would feel like to run her hands along his wide, muscled shoulders. How his skin would be both silky and incredibly warm to the touch. She had a sudden, visceral idea of exactly what it would feel like to brush her lips against his, then down to his jaw, to press against his strong neck.

She swallowed hard, her mouth dry as her hands tightened around the blanket she clutched. She couldn’t look away as he held up the shirt and bunched it up, preparing to pull it over his head. Cyrus looked up then, so deep in his thoughts he hadn’t noticed she was awake and watching him. He paused for a moment, the shirt still around his arms.

“Did I wake you?” he asked, his voice husky. He pulled the shirt over his head, settling it down around his body and obscuring it from Kassia’s appreciative gaze. She nearly whimpered at the loss, but pushed the blankets away so she could crawl to the end of the bed. He watched her, eyes sparking with something undefinable. The closer she got, a new scent tantalized her. His usual smell of deep forests and spice was there but over that smell was a layer of smoke and sweat. It wasn’t unpleasant, but wholly masculine, and it drew her inexorably in.

“Kassia?” His deep voice rumbled through her as she agilely climbed out of the bed. Something was driving her on, pushing her to move to Cyrus. Kassia prowled closer to him, hyper-focused on his every movement, on the way his hands flexed and his body tensed, winding tighter and tighter the closer she got.

She felt almost manic, her mind gone alien and hungry. She wanted him to run, she wanted to chase him down. She wanted him to chase her down. A game of predator and prey played between the towering trunks of watchful trees, a game not for food, but for sport. It was maddening, wanting to be both the hunter and the hunted, but she had the idea that Cyrus would be the perfect match for her to play that game with, her perfect match.

Her body swayed to him until they stood a breath apart, barely touching. Heat radiated from him like warmth from a flame, as hot as the fire burning in his molten eyes that swept over her. Kassia slowly reached out, her hand hovering over the rigid plane of his stomach. Just as she went to touch him, sanity returned and she jerked her hand away, staring up at him in embarrassed shock. “I-I’m so sorry!” Whirling on her heel, Kassia fled for the bathroom, slamming the door and locking it behind her.

Back in the room, Cyrus stared at the closed bathroom door in a mix of confusion and surprise. His pulse thudded thickly as he tried to make sense of what had just happened. When he had come in, Kassia had been nestled deep in his bed, snoring softly, and he had tried to be as quiet as he could so as to not wake her. As he had grabbed a shirt that didn’t smell like a campfire, he hadn’t noticed that she was awake until she had made a small noise behind him. He had turned to find her staring at him with wide, lilac eyes. Her hair wasn’t whitening, but he could see a hint of red bleeding into the blue of her irises. That, combined with the look on her face, held him still when she had crawled slowly to him. She was still wearing his clothes, the black material making her skin seem even paler than it was. The sensuous sway of her body had also surprised him, as had the way his body had gone taut when she had reached out to touch him. Then she ran off to hide in the bathroom.

What the hell was that? He took a deep breath, rubbing the bridge of his nose while squeezing his eyes shut. He was tired, beyond tired. That had to be why he had reacted the way he had. If not that, maybe because he was tense and had refused Petra when she had tempted him at the farm house. Scowling, Cyrus rubbed his hands over his face, then jerkily tucked his shirt into his pants, pointedly ignoring the erection he currently had. There’s no fucking way the vampire had anything to do with that, he told himself. She just smells good and it’s been a while since I got laid.

Kassia did smell good, and that was part of the problem. She was also small and soft, yet he knew she was capable of incredible violence. That incongruence intrigued him, as had the dark heat in her eyes when she had stared up at him, her hand hovering torturously close to his body. The worst part of it was the way something inside of him had wanted to reach out to her, like he would die if he didn’t. The bitter taste of disappointment made him shake his head. He was disappointed that she hadn’t touched him and had run away instead, locking herself away like she was scared he would hurt her.

Cyrus moved to the bathroom door. Clearing his throat, he gently knocked at the door. Though he could clearly hear Kassia’s small intake of breath, she stayed silent. “Kassia? I’m going downstairs to make breakfast and some coffee.” Still, no answer. Cyrus sighed to himself. “I had Hawk bring your spare clothes so they’re on top of the dresser….”

After a second of silence, Kassia answered. “Okay. Thank you.”

Cyrus hesitated, unsure of what to say next, what to do next. The urge to see her face, to coax her out of the bathroom so he could see if her eyes were still lilac, was a foreign feeling that had him reaching for the doorknob before he realized what he was doing. When his fingertips brushed the cold metal, he quickly pulled his hand back, glanced once more at the door, then forced himself to leave the bedroom. He made his way slowly downstairs, all the grief pushed from his head in a confusing tidal wave of lilac eyes, pale skin, and unexpected need.

When Cyrus reached the living room, he spared a glance to Angelo, sprawled out on the couch, and walked past him to the kitchen. It was definitely better that Angelo was asleep and hadn’t witnessed the disaster upstairs because he would never let Cyrus live it down if he had.

While Cyrus went about fixing an easy meal of toast, fried eggs, and sausages, his mind returned to Kassia. It was like a fucking revolving door. He tried to think about anything else and, boom, there was Kassia again. What types of food does Kassia like? Has she been eating enough? How can he get more protein into her diet so she recovers faster? Angelo said she liked music so what type of music does she like? She was good at fighting so who taught her how to fight? Then his thoughts would turn darker. Was she playing a game with them, pretending to be harmless? Did she want them all dead? What was her end game? Was she actually in league with Ambrose this whole time in some new, fucked up way of hunting? Then the thoughts would go to a different type of dark. What did her lips feel like? What would have happened if she had touched him upstairs? What did she sound like when she was being fucked? Did she prefer rough or gentle? Would she let him hold her down with his teeth while he fucked her from behind?

“Hellooo? Cy? You’re about to break the pan.”

Cyrus blinked rapidly as he twisted around from the stove to stare at Jack, who was giving him a concerned look as he stood in the doorway. In Cyrus’s hand, the metal handle of the pan he was frying sausages in was groaning beneath his tightening grip. The sausages were darker than he intended them to be and he swore under his breath as he flicked the stove eye off and moved the pan to the back eye. He turned back to Jack, stepping quickly to the island to hide what he knew would be an obvious statement of his thoughts.

“Hey, kid,” he said lightly. “Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you home to get some sleep?”

Jack had rode home from the training grounds with Cyrus and he knew the teen was exhausted. His gray eyes were ringed in circles and were bloodshot from the smoke and the tears he had shed throughout the night. His usually tan skin was wan and pale. Still, Jack shook his head and ran a hand tiredly through his hair.

“I have tutoring today, and I wanted to see Kass before I left.” As Jack moved to the island and sat, Cyrus could smell the fire they had spent the night sitting around. Jack didn’t seem overly bothered as he yawned widely and leaned his elbows on the counter top. “I thought I would pick her up some extra clothes today so she doesn’t have to wear your giant shorts anymore.”

Cyrus made a noncommittal noise as he made Jack a plate and pushed it towards him. “Kassia is upstairs in the bathroom. She’ll probably be down soon.”

Jack dug in with abandon and nodded. He swallowed, then continued. “I’m happy that you don’t want to kill her anymore. She’s pretty cool if you spend enough time with her.” Standing, he marched to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water before returning to his seat and drinking half of it in one swallow. Cyrus made his own plate and sat beside Jack to eat.

“No one said anything about not killing her anymore, cool or not,” he said absently as he started eating. Even as he said it, he knew it wasn’t true. If Cyrus had anything to say about it, no one would be killing Kassia until he learned everything there was to learn about her.

Ghosts- Chapter 9

Warrick

The field just outside of Greenbriar was filled with rows of wooden stalls and tents, and people strolled back and forth between stalls perusing wares as they went. The harvest fair was in full swing and had attracted folks from all over Hayes county, and the counties around it. I didn’t care much for the fair itself but it was a good opportunity to sell some cattle and make new connections so, as Mother and I leisurely walked about the fair grounds, I kept an eye out for any interesting investments.

At my elbow, Mother had dressed in a russet gown, her hair swept up and hidden beneath a matching bonnet. Around her neck, she wore a simple string of pearls and wore a mink stole across her shoulders that would keep her warm when the cool wind swept over the land. She was humming a hymnal, her eyes sparkling with pleasure as we moseyed along.

For the most part, I was bored. Mother’s arm around mine was the only thing keeping me from striding off and heading to the nearest cider stall. Mother pulled me to a stop in front of another stall so she could eye a line of delicate spools of lace.

“Oh, Warrick,” she crooned as she picked up one of the spools. “Wouldn’t this lace be just lovely on a Christmas gown?”

I eyed the lace and the diminutive old woman behind the stall who had clearly been the one to make the lace. “It’s excellently made. You should buy it, Mother.”

With my opinion, Mother turned to the woman and chattered along as she usually did, asking questions to the old woman before she could fully answer the previous question. It took a few moments before we walked off, Mother slipping her purse back into her bodice after promising she would send someone around to collect her purchases later. Likely, that someone would be me.

“Oh, Warrick! Diane Harlow has a stall. I want to go visit it and see what she has to purchase!”

I internally groaned, dreading meeting Diane and her hardheaded daughter again. It had been several weeks since I had last seen Jesse Harlow and she had sent the pointy toe of her boot right into my manhood, and I wasn’t exactly eager to repeat the incident. If I never had to see that hellcat again, I would count myself lucky. Mother wanted to see Diane, though, and Mother always got what she wanted.

It took nearly half an hour to locate the Harlow family’s stall and I was surprised to find it crowded with would-be patrons. The wooden booth was well-made from pine and was painted a bright white. Overhead, there was a strip of ruffled fabric to shield the goods neatly lined along the top of the stall from the sun and wind. Diane stood behind the stall with a broad grin on her face, wearing a light peach gown with her coppery hair free from a bonnet. She was exchanging a pie for a handful of coins when she noticed us. She lifted her hand in a wave and called out.

“Martha, Warrick!”

Mother waved back and we stepped closer. “Oh, Diane!” Mother exclaimed in surprise and awe. “Your stall is lovely! What are you selling?”

Diane smiled and reached out to a smaller, red-haired girl beside her. She was younger than Jesse and peered up at me with soft hazel eyes. Her hair was back in two ponytails and she gave me a small smile.

“Sarah-Lynn and I are selling some pies we baked just this morning, and we’ve got some fresh corn, tomatoes, carrots, and potatoes as well. I’ve also got some peach preserves and some other canned goods.”

“I would just love a pie!” Mother clapped her gloved hands together and fished out her purse. “How much for one and a jar of preserves?”

Diane shook her head and turned to a table behind her where she pulled a pie wrapped in a square of cloth, and a jar of preserves. “Honey, I ain’t takin’ your money! We’ve been friends for too long for that.”

Mother twittered but took the goods from Diane. “Bless you, dear. I’m looking forward to this pie. I’m sure it’ll be just splendid with a cup of tea. Ain’t that right, Warrick?”

I grunted, pulled back into the conversation. I was looking for a certain fiery redhead and fighting the urge to cup myself for protection. When I glanced back to the two women, they were both watching me expectantly. Diane got a shrewd look on her face and carried on. “I don’t mind sharing with my friends. Besides, I think Jesse has something she wants to ask you, Mr. Thamer. Consider the pie and preserves a gift for hearing her out.”

Before I could even begin to think of how to respond to that statement, a loud voice interrupted me.

“Momma! I just got Clover checked in. There’s a pot for the race and I think-”

Jesse, who was striding towards us quickly, came to a sudden halt when she seemed to notice me and Mother. My eyes flickered over her and I fought the frown that wanted to rise to my face. Something about Jesse Harlow was different since the last time I had seen her. She stood taller, more confidently maybe? She had completely forgone a gown and was wearing tight navy trousers, a light blue button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a pair of leather work gloves, a pair of scuffed boots, and a black hat pushed back from her face. Her hair swished behind her in a thick braid and her eyes, when they landed on me, were hard chips of hazel ice.

“Jesse,” Diane said pointedly, her eyes cutting to me. I stiffened but Mother’s hand on my arm tightened as if she knew I was ready to bolt. What were they planning?

Jesse swallowed and stepped closer to me. Her lips thinned and her fingers nervously tugged at the edges of her gloves. “Mr. Thamer,” she said quietly, fairly biting my name between her teeth. “Would you mind taking a walk with me?”

She could have kicked me between the legs again and I would have been less surprised than I was just then. Mother glared up at me like she was daring me to say no and I knew my fate was sealed. Taking a deep breath, I patted Mother’s hand and nodded.

“Of course, Miss Harlow.” Moving to Jesse, I held my elbow out for her to take like I would any lady. Jesse stared at me for a moment before she slowly slid her hand around my arm to link hers with mine. Even through her glove and the thick woolen coat I was wearing, her touch was careful and sent a shock through my muscles, making them tighten. I ignored that. I ignored that, this close, Jesse smelled like a strange, heady mixture of leather, peaches, and sunshine.

“Where to, Miss Harlow?”

Color bloomed high on Jesse’s cheek. “Oh, the livestock pens, please. There’s a race later that I’m signed up for.”

I frowned as a surge of discomfort roared through me. Racing was dangerous for men, much less women in a group of men. “Is that safe?”

Jesse scoffed. “I’ve spent my whole life on a horse, and Clover is well trained. We’re going to win.”

She glanced up at me and I nodded solemnly. “I hope that you do.”

A tentative smile crossed her face and warmed me. We stayed silent as we walked, drawing stares and aghast looks as people took in Jesse’s clothes and likely the fact we had no chaperone nipping at our heels. The longer we walked, the more I burned with curiosity. What did Jesse ask me to walk for? Did she suddenly change her strict stance on marriage? Was she interested? Would I marry her if so? When I considered it, the ghost feeling of her boot slamming into my balls returned to haunt me.

We walked off from the stalls and back into Greenbriar, skirting around the streets to the livestock pen and paddock that was just behind a row of shops. Cowboys and farmhands milled about, dressed in much the same as Jesse, and a few called out to her in greeting as we passed.

“Miss Harlow,” I started, suddenly annoyed that she wasn’t speaking. “Not that I’m not enjoying this walk, was there a particular reason you called me away?”

Jesse swallowed and chewed on her lip, then looked up at me in consternation. She pulled her hand away from the crook of my elbow and I felt the loss more than I should have.

“Warrick- Mr. Thamer-, I…” She stopped, frowned, then tried again. “My momma and Lou…he’s our farmhand… have decided to make me the head of the household….sorta. Momma has made me the owner of Harlow Farm.”

I stared at her blankly, certain I had misheard her. “Pardon?”

Jesse took a deep breath. “I am the owner of Harlow Farm. And I would like to proposition you.”

“P-Proposition…me?” There ain’t a chance in hell she said that. My heart gave an uneven lurch when Jesse took a step closer to me and gently placed her hand back on my arm. She turned fully to face me and gave me a small, uneasy smile. Her cheeks flushed red and I could only stare with my mouth hanging open. She wants to proposition me?! What does being the owner of their farm have anything to do with it?! This is going way past marriage.

“I realize that we haven’t exactly gotten along in the past, but I would like to start over. I promise I’ll work hard and be a good partner. I’m sure if we work together, I can find a way to make this a pleasurable…uh…transaction?”

When I didn’t say anything, too stunned by her words, Jesse suddenly looked worried and stepped even closer, capturing me in her gaze. “Please, Warrick. I may be inexperienced now, but I promise I’m a fast learner. I don’t know anything about business and how running a farm works, and you’re the only person I can think of that would want to be business partners with me. Lou says you have connections and I obviously don’t have any myself. I’m positive I can do this, I just need help.”

All the air whooshed out of me in a long sigh and I groaned as I pinched the bridge of my nose between two fingers. A business proposition. The girl was too young, too naive, and her momma thought to make her the owner of their farm? What the hell had she been thinking?

“Warrick?”

I opened my eyes to give Jesse a stern look. Her face tightened in annoyance and I sighed again. “Miss Harlow-”

“Jesse.”

“Jesse,” I amended, faintly uncomfortable to be using her given name. “The first thing you should know about doin’ business, is to make sure you’re properly asking another person to do business. Do you understand?”

She hesitated, then shook her head so her braid swung behind her. “Did I say something wrong?”

Good lord. “Never mind that, now. The second thing you’ll need to know is exactly what you have to offer said person. If it isn’t somethin’ that person may be interested in, you probably won’t be able to convince them to join with you.”

As I spoke, Jesse’s face grew brighter and she nodded quickly. “So you’ll help me?”

“No,” I replied flatly, steadily ignoring the way her brief joy was swiftly diminished. “For a number of reasons, the first being that the last time you saw me, you tried to kick my manhood clear off my body. The second is that Harlow Farm is small and doesn’t have much to offer in terms of money or resources. The third is that you are inexperienced, and it would be a risk to have you stumbling about during meetings or assaulting men for looking at you in a way you don’t like.”

“I do have a lot to offer!” Looking ready to bite a chunk out of me, Jesse curled her hands into fists. “I’m the best breaker in this county. People bring their horses to me all the time to train them. I know I can do something with that, I just don’t know how.”

I had heard tales that Jesse Harlow, young as she was, was actually excellent in training and breaking wild horses. Though I didn’t know about best in the county, I had heard from a few people that Jesse had a way with animals in general that made them do whatever she asked them. It was a rare and invaluable gift when you worked primarily with livestock like I did. Cooper Brown, a seasoned rancher who had worked in the selling of horseflesh for many years, swore that Jesse Harlow had never failed to perfectly break a horse in such a way that the animal would be as sweet as honey afterwards. A cruel breaker could traumatize the animal beyond the point of saving but, from what I had heard, Jesse was only cruel to men.

“Win the race.”

Jesse paused and blinked up at me. “What?”

“Win the race,” I repeated slowly. “Show me what you’ve got and we’ll go from there.”

Determination hardened her expression and she nodded once, jerkily. “I will,” she said firmly. “It’s going to start in a few minutes.”

“Then you’d better get to your horse, Miss Harlow.”

We stared at each other in silence, the wind slipping between and around us. My eyes flicked between her hazel ones and, for a second, the world receded until it was just me and the wild, fiery girl in front of me. I pulled back.

“Go on.”

Nodding again, Jesse turned on her heel and marched off to the barn where the horses were being kept in stalls. A small crowd was gathering around the paddock, men and women alike perching on wooden barrels, stretching out on the grass, or just choosing to stand. Making my way to the crowd, I slipped between people to make sure I got a spot right along the fence. A body sidled up next to me and I looked over in surprise to see none other than the portly frame of Cooper Brown standing next to me, dressed like just another cowhand. His straw hat was pushed back so he could peer out at the paddock with watery blue eyes set deep in his round, pockmarked face.

“Warrick,” he grunted, digging in his shirt pocket to pull out a crinkled pack of smokes. “Nice day for a race.” He pulled a cigarette out and held it out to me but I declined with an upheld hand.

“That it is, Coop. Any of the horses yours?”

“A few of ‘em, but I’m mostly here for Jesse Harlow.”

That can’t be a coincidence. “What’s your interest in Jesse Harlow?” I asked lightly, staring across the paddock to the darkened interior of the barn where I knew the girl in question was.

Cooper eyed me from the side without turning his head. “Business, what else? What’s your interest in Jesse Harlow?”

My teeth grit together at the insinuating tone in his voice. “Who says I have interest in her?”

Scoffing, Cooper lit a match and held it to the cigarette in his mouth, puffing until smoke rolled from his nostrils. “Everyone in town is talkin’ about you two. About how you offered to marry her and she kicked your cock in.” He let out a laugh that was startlingly akin to an ass’s bray. “She’s a firecracker, that one.”

Irritation colored my tone when I snapped back at him. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I didn’t offer to marry anyone. Her momma made her the owner of Harlow Farm and now she’s badgerin’ me about bein’ business partners.”

Cooper laughed again and shook his head. “And you ain’t keen on that?”

“She’s sixteen,” I bit out derisively. “She’s just a girl.” Even as I said the words, I knew I didn’t believe it. Jesse was young, but she was smart and horse savvy.

“She’s seventeen,” Cooper said airily. “Just had a birthday a few weeks ago. And I wouldn’t call Jesse Harlow just a girl. She managed to break a demon of a horse for me and had the audacity to charge me seventy-five dollars for it.”

My jaw fell and I stared at him, aghast. “Seventy-five dollars?! You paid her seventy-five dollars? Is the damn horse made out of gold or somethin’? Did he kill people and is now sweet as a puppy?!”

Grinning, Cooper looked over at me and blew out more smoke. His cigarette bobbed at the corner of his mouth. “Damn near. Champion used to try and bite me every chance he got. Nearly stomped two men to death when they tried to ride ‘im. After Jess got a hold of ‘im, he was downright cuddly. The girl is good at what she does and she deserved her money. I’ve got some horses comin’ in from Colorado that were snatched right out of their herds and are as wild as they come. I want her to give it a shot and I’m prepared to pay her well for it.”

I shook my head in disbelief, turning back to look at the barn as my thoughts strayed back to Jesse Harlow. I was suddenly rethinking everything uncharitable I had thought about the girl. If she was actually that competent, perhaps it would be well worth my time to make her a business partner. I could always teach her the proper way to handle herself as we went along. It was clear she needed some sort of guiding hand by the way she thoughtlessly assaulted men whenever the mood struck her.

“It’s startin’,” Cooper said eagerly as he leaned forward to rest his forearms against the wooden fence lining the paddock. Turning my attention back to the corral, I watched a man exit the barns and stride out to the middle of the dirt. The crowd around me quieted down as the man started yelling.

“‘Afternoon, folks! Hope y’all are enjoyin’ the harvest fair. Like every year, we’re havin’ us a race where competitors can show off their horses and their skill guiding them. Now, we ain’t got any fancy racin’ track, but we do got a lot of open space and some barrels. We’re gonna start off with a sprint race, then move to a mile-long distance race. The first place winners in each will win fifty dollars and will drink for free at the saloon for the rest of the year, courtesy of Mr. Paul Newton, the owner.”

Cheers went up at that and the man grinned broadly. “Let me introduce y’all good folks to this year’s competitors!”

One by one, horses and their riders exited the barn and lined up alongside one another. My eyes immediately fell on Jesse, proudly astride a young chestnut stallion. There were sixteen horses in total and my eyes narrowed on a familiar black thoroughbred with an even more familiar jackass on his back. Edwin Coates was staring about, arrogant as ever, with his hair curling obnoxiously over his forehead. His eyes trailed down the line of riders until they landed on Jesse, where they stayed. The man in the center introduced the horses and riders, then they all dutifully filed back into the barn to wait their turn to perform.

The first race was a timed sprint of fifty yards with two riders going at a time and being eliminated each round for six rounds. I didn’t pay much mind to it until the third round, where Jesse and her horse won against a man on a bay quarter horse. Edwin went on the last round and, with the big, black thoroughbred under him, smoked the other racer. When those rounds were done, the remaining six riders were paired off and, again, Jesse and Edwin both came out on top, with a skinny fellow on a white mare along with them.

After so many races, the horses were blowing hard, foam forming at the lining of their mouths where they anxiously chewed their bits, and the riders appeared just as winded and sweaty despite the cool weather. Jesse was bent over her horse’s neck, her lips moving silently as she swept a calming hand up and down his neck. The stallion kept an ear flicked back as if he was listening to her speak to him and his restless movements calmed the longer she talked. The man and his mare were standing off to the side, both breathing heavily, but Edwin’s horse, the one I recognized from the night Jesse had rode him through the fields, appeared deeply agitated. His ears were pinned back and his teeth gnashed. Edwin’s face was screwed into a scowl as he jerked at the horse’s reins to keep him still while threateningly tapping the crop in his hand against the thoroughbred’s neck. The horse’s hindquarters and sides were striped with welts from Edwin whipping him to go faster, and the nasty steel spurs on Edwin’s boots had been digging into the horse’s belly hard enough that blood trickled down in slow rivulets, barely visible against the sooty color of his coat. I looked back to Jesse, at her boots that were free of spurs, and the look of utter rage on her face as she seemed to have noticed the wounds on the thoroughbred like I had.

“Alright, folks! We’ve had a change of plans!” The man from before walked back into the center of the corral. “Because there are three racers left, we’re going to move onto the long distance race and the overall winner will take the hundred dollar pot, and drink for free for a year. We’re going to have these three line up and we’ll begin.”

The crowd cheered and the three riders lined back up. The man instructed them the exact distance they would be racing and informed them that there would be someone waiting for them at the turnaround point. They would ride north for half a mile, circle the point, and return. Whoever made it back the first was the winner.

“Jesse’s gonna tear ‘em up,” Cooper muttered beside me, his hand held up to shield his eyes even though he was wearing a hat that would have accomplished the same thing if he would have just pulled it down.

“Why do you say that?” I asked curiously. “The thoroughbred was made for racing. Surely he’ll be the winner.”

Cooper shook his head. “That bastard Coates is pushing Champion to win with pain, and that ain’t the way Jesse taught him. He’s a proud stallion and would win if his rider trusted him and treated him with care. The mare is a work horse and not made for high speed at long distances. Five dollars says that she’ll be last, limping back. Johnny’ll be lucky if she ain’t lame after this. But look at Clover and Jesse. He wants to win just as bad as she does, and she won’t hold him back. One thing Jesse understands is that horses are intelligent and feel things like we do. She’ll know it’s time for Clover to make the shots. He’s young and probably has something to prove to Champion, too.”

I wanted to dismiss Cooper’s words about horses feeling things like people did but, when I looked at Clover and Jesse, both wearing steely looks of determination as they gazed out at the open land before them, I couldn’t deny it. Instead I stayed silent and watched with bated breath as Jesse sank down a little in her saddle, then reached up with a slim hand to tug her hat free. The man from before stood off to the side with a pistol in his hand and, at the count of three, a shot rang out.

The mare and Clover shot forward. Jesse whooped loudly and tossed her hat behind her with a look of open pleasure on her face as Clover surged ahead. Edwin, though, was stuck at the starting line with Champion. The black stallion rose on his back hooves and screamed in fury, yanking his head back and forth to try and free himself from the punishing bite of Edwin’s grip on the reins in his hands. Edwin was yelling at the horse, beating him about the ribs and even catching the crop against Champion’s cheek when he jerked his head to the side. With Edwin’s spurs digging into his sides, Champion finally jumped forwards, running after the two other horses, but it was apparent the debacle had cost them precious seconds.

“That whoreson,” Cooper snarled in a low tone as we watched the riders race away. “I wouldn’t have sold him Champion if I wouldda known he was gonna beat him.”

“Edwin and his buddies are so crooked they could swallow nails and spit out corkscrews. Just a bunch of bottom-feeders.” My eyes stayed on Jesse and Clover until they had disappeared from view. The crowd stayed mostly quiet, lightly speaking among themselves as we waited for the three riders to return. I heard more than one disgusted statement of Edwin’s treatment of his horse and wordlessly agreed with each one.

I bet Jesse is ready to bust him a new one, I thought as I stared into the distance, waiting for another glimpse of my would-be business partner. Soon enough, a cry went up when the first sight of the rider in the lead was sighted. It was Jesse, bent low over Clover’s neck as he thundered towards us. There was a black form right at their heels, Champion closing in until the two horses were side by side. They barreled towards the corral, neck and neck. Jesse’s face was drawn and fierce with determination and Edwin’s teeth were bared in a savage growl, his eyes darting between Jesse and the finish line that was scratched into the ground.

The crowd was going wild, yelling in excitement. My heart was thudding in my chest and my hands tightened around the fence post as I fought to not vault over it to meet Jesse at the end. I was sure she was going to have words for Edwin when the race was over and I didn’t put it past her to not try and kill him with the crop he kept striking his horse with. Beside me, Cooper was hollering for Jesse and Clover, calling encouragements while simultaneously cursing Edwin. I hollered with him, his exuberance infectious.

They drew closer and closer to the finish line, the sound of the hooves nearly deafening even above the yelling crowd. Edwin’s crop lashed out and I saw Jesse flinch, a red welt appearing on her forearm where her sleeve was rolled black. Fury lit up my veins but the strike against her tanned skin just seemed to spur her on faster. She pressed herself damn near into Clover’s spine and screamed at him in encouragement. Like her words had given him new energy, Clover renewed his speed and flew over the finish line a full head before Champion.

Jesse pulled Clover off to the side so his gallop could settle to a canter and to a swift walk through the paddock gates before she brought him to a complete stop in the interior of the corral. Though his sides were heaving with exertion, Clover’s head was high and he whinnied shrilly as if proclaiming his victory. Jesse was laughing with her arms thrown around his neck while rubbing every sweat-soaked bit of him she could reach. Edwin jerked Champion to a furious stop, glaring daggers at Jesse’s turned back as he dismounted. A few moments later, the white mare stumbled up and, sure enough, she was limping heavily just as Cooper had predicted.

Jesse clambered off of Clover’s back and circled around to his face, crooning at him while rubbing his ears and making sure his tack wasn’t rubbing painfully against his skin. Clover happily nudged her, his eyes drooping as she pulled the bit from his mouth. A farmhand rushed forward with a lead rope and a halter that she quickly changed his bridle out for. When she caught sound of Edwin cursing Champion, I saw the rage darkening her features. Cooper nudged my arm.

“She’s about to go tear him a hole even a rattlesnake would wince at.”

Jesse spoke quickly with the farmhand, smiling as she placed Clover’s lead in his hand. The farmhand nodded, then turned and started taking the horse into the barn likely to be rubbed down and cooled off. With her hands free of her horse, Jesse rounded on Edwin. Groaning, I vaulted the fence and got to her just as she slapped a hand on Edwin’s shoulder and yanked him around by the material of his shirt. Edwin stared down in surprised anger at Jesse’s hand on his shirt before jerking away.

“I suggest you keep your hands off of men, Miss Harlow,” he sneered. “You might not like it if they take the same liberties to grab you.”

Jesse wasn’t cowed in the slightest and gave him a sickly sweet smile. “Give me that ridin’ crop, Mister Coates.”

“Or what? Gonna sic your dog here on me?” He gestured dismissively towards me.

Jesse laughed, tossing her head back. “No,” she said with a chuckle. “I’m goin’ to shove it so far up your-”

“Jesse,” I warned. “Manners, please.”

She gawked up at me then narrowed her eyes back on Edwin. In a flash of movement, her hand darted out and she snatched the crop from his hand, then tossed it as hard as she could. All three of us watched the riding crop fly through the air.

“Now,” Jesse said brightly, turning back to Edwin. “Give me the horse.”

Edwin sputtered. “The horse?!”

“Yep. I want Champion and I’m prepared to offer you the money and the free drinks from first prize.”

Edwin crossed his arms and squared his shoulders as if he was trying to make himself more intimidating. It didn’t bother Jesse a lick. “I paid twice that amount for him”

Jesse shrugged carelessly, tossing her half-undone braid behind her. “I don’t give a damn. You’re a shit owner and you’re just going to misuse him until you kill him or he kills you.” She gestured at Champion who was eyeing Edwin with his ears flat to his head and his teeth bared. “He don’t like you and, trust me when I say this, he can make your life a living hell.”

“Give me two hundred for him and he’s yours.”

“No.” Jesse shook her head. “He’s mine already. Take the money and go, or I’ll make sure no one in Hays county will sell a horse to you again.”

“Matter of fact,” I drawled, nudging Jesse to the side and standing closely to Edwin, letting him see just how far I was willing to take this matter. “I don’t think you need the money or the horse. He don’t like you and is probably going to get a piece of you at some point. You’re just going to shoot and kill him, then have to pay to get his body taken away. Give the horse to the girl and we can all go about our day. Maybe you can get a gentler horse in the future.” As if he understood our words, Champion took that moment to nip the air just over Edwin’s shoulder, causing the man to stumble away with a curse.

“See there?” Jesse said with an exasperated gesture towards the horse. “He don’t like you, Mr. Coates. I’ll be fair and give you the prize money to get you a new horse, just let me have Champion and let’s be done with it. It’s hot out here and I want to get back to the festival.”

Edwin looked back and forth between us in outrage before he collected himself and straightened his clothes with an impatient tug. “Fine. I ain’t got any use for recalcitrant animals or women. Take the horse. I’ll have Cooper Brown deliver his paperwork to you later.”

I saw the flare of excitement and relief in Jesse’s eyes but she quickly smothered it with a stoic nod. “I appreciate it.”

Giving Jesse one last narrowed stare, Edwin thrust the reins in her hand and spun on his heel, his spine ramrod straight like his pride was smarting. Jesse didn’t care he was leaving and turned to Champion, cooing softly to him as she held out her hand for him to sniff. When he realized who had his reins, I watched in awe as Champion’s flattened ears perked and he bumped his head into Jesse’s chest in greeting. It was clear the horse was enamored with her, and I was suddenly more sure than ever I had made the correct decision.

“Miss Harlow,” I said lightly to get her attention. Jesse gave me a questioning look as she brushed her fingers lovingly through the stallion’s mane.

“I’ll have a carriage pick you up on Monday morning. We’ll need to discuss our partnership.”

“You…you want me to be your business partner?” Her face was bright with excitement and disbelief. I nodded.

“You won the race, didn’t you?”

“Well…yes…but I wasn’t exactly professional afterwards.” She winced and I held back a chuckle.

Leaning closer, I grinned. “Don’t worry about it. I manage ‘professional’ quite well. You did fine.”

Her face flushed in pleasure and she softly patted Champion’s cheek while looking away. “I’ll be there Monday.”

“Good. I’ll see you then.”

With one last look at her bright red face, surrounded by windswept hair, I turned and walked off with the thought that Monday was sure to be interesting.

I Remember You

I remember you. Like a friend from the past that I had met long ago. Your image slowly erased by the inevitable march of time, you had slipped my mind. Somewhere along the way, I had forgotten you. Now you stand on the other side of a thin pane of glass, your curled fists pounding on the fragile barrier with feral rage in your wild blue eyes as you stare, endlessly stare, at me. Your howled words screaming from a mouth empty of teeth and tongue are unintelligible and the uncertain crowd gathering around me in this dingy diner don’t understand that we know each other.

My eyes focus on my pale reflection in the window and, with a jolt, I realize I know you, but not myself. The girl standing, half-shrinking in panic with her spine pressed anxiously against the table behind her, her trembling hands tightened with fevered claws around her pocketbook, is a stranger. Her loose brunette hair falls cloud-soft around her oh-so innocent face. Her green eyes are wide and cavernous in the ivory flesh of her pallid expression. The buttery cardigan over comfortable jeans she’s wearing are casual, more casual than the relationship I have with my own body. Isn’t it funny, that between us, I am the stranger here, and not you? I am an ancient, breathing horror hiding behind the thin veneer of an angelic painting, one who seems to have forgotten I’m here, tempted into slumber by the careful compulsion of a loving family and lazy Sundays free of fear and blood.

But you didn’t, did you?

Memory is a funny thing. The past means everything and nothing at all. The future is an ever-changing, swirling cloud of possibility. This present, though, is so deliciously satisfying because, at last, I am awake again, torn from my sleep by the mere image of your face.

Ten years ago, we met for the first time and you realized the error of your ways. Ten years ago, you were successful, dressed in expensive tailored suits and not the haggard rags of homelessness you wear now. Your hair was neat and shiny gold, your charming face so sweet when you flashed every inch of pearly white your money had bought.

Wait. Was that you?

Or were you the handsome college professor handing out A’s with a wolfish grin and the promise that “it’ll only hurt for a moment”? Or the man stalking unsuspecting prey from the shadowed alleys, unaware that you were being stalked in return?

I could laugh. Is this girl even aware of how much blood has stained her hands over the years? Are you aware?

Your hands slapping on the glass draw me from my thoughts and my eyes alight with vicious glee upon the stump where your little finger used to be. That I do remember. The visceral snap of my teeth around the sweat-slickened skin of your finger is utterly and eternally unforgettable. I wonder if you look down at that stump and think of me, your mind sucked into a black abyss with just the single glimpse. I hope it torments you, like you tormented so many people before I sunk my talons into you, before I tore those teeth from your mouth and cut loose your lying tongue like de-fanging a viper. No tongue to writhe and tattle. You wouldn’t dare, not with the promise that, should you speak of me, I would return to devour your other tender extremities. Do you feel blessed or cursed I let you live? You were my first, and, my god, was that delectable. Fallen from so high into the twisted creature I made you into! My own broken creation made from sins that had been washed away in your own blood. It’s beautiful! I can still remember the way those ruby red gems painted your shuddering skin where they fell from my hungry lips. I can still taste the phantom essence of your blood in my mouth like a finely-aged wine, lingering behind my molars, begging for just another taste.

How I missed you.

You must have missed me, too, because why else would you have sought me out? Just the thought tears through me like lightning and the thin mask I’ve worn for ten years shatters like the glass between us. I straighten even as I melt, and the smile I can see reflected back at me is mine, not the empty, vapid smile of the woman in the family photos hanging on the walls of my gray-painted home. The man beside me stiffens as he stares at me, suddenly aware that the mother of his three children has been an idea all along. I turn away from him, feeling alive at last, feeling eager and hungry, because I remember you, and I remember me.