Page 144 of Scent to the Feral Cowboys
Yet I found myself holding my breath, my entire being focused on the connection forming between Nelly and the horse I'd privately named. It mattered in a way I couldn't articulate, even to myself.
Ghost stretched her neck further; her ears pricked forward in anticipation. Nelly hesitated, then extended her hand closer to the mare, palm flat as I'd instructed. The horse considered the offering, sniffing it for a moment.
"Ghost," Nelly said, her voice barely above a whisper as she waited patiently. Ghost's velvety lips finally dipped against Nelly’s palm to delicately collect the sugar cube, crunching it between her teeth. Nelly didn't flinch or pull away, though I could see the tension in her shoulders as the horse chewed, as if she still half-expected to get bit. When the horse backed away, Nelly swiped her damp palm against her jeans.
Her first successful interaction with the horse sent an unreasonable surge of pride through me, as if I'd personallyaccomplished something monumental instead of merely standing witness to this small act of courage.
"I like that," she continued, watching Ghost with a newfound intensity. "That should be her name."
I clenched my hands into fists, joy rushing through my body.
She liked the name I’d chosen.
Ghost suddenly pranced in her stable, shaking out her mane and neighing loudly. A small huff of surprise escaped Nelly's lips, not quite a laugh but close enough to make my heart stutter in my chest. "Ghost really is perfect," she breathed out, walking as close as possible to the stall gate and crossing her arms over the top. Her expression shifted, her eyes going sad again.
I studied her profile as she gazed at the horse. I could look at Nelly forever; didn’t think I’d ever tire of the view.
The delicate curve of her jaw.
The slight upturn of her nose.
The way her golden eyelashes cast tiny shadows on her cheeks.
At first glance, she seemed fragile.
I could imagine her dancing on stage.
Spinning and leaping and captivating the audience.
But on closer inspection, you saw the measure of her.
The lean muscles.
The invisible scars, long healed.
And the hurt wanting to linger longer.
I wondered what else had happened in her life to make her ease so smoothly into sorrow.
The mare pressed her head against the stall door, angling for more attention. After a deep breath, Nelly raised her hand and placed it on Ghost's nose. The horse leaned into the touch, eyes half-closing in contentment. Nelly’s mouth curved, not a full smile, but a hint of one. The pale edge of dawn fighting back theblue-black night. I wondered how long it would take for the sun to fully rise.
My chest tightened at the sight, then released at the joy of it.
Outside, the clouds which brought the earlier rain parted. Shafts of sunlight poured through the windows of the stable, illuminating everything they touched. Dust motes turned to floating gold. Even the air between Nelly and I shimmered. Her hair became living flame, ginger strands woven with metallic highlights of copper and bronze. She seemed to glow from within, ethereal and earthbound all at once. A goddamn angel.
She turned then, perhaps sensing my stare. Even her eyes were mesmerizing in the sunlight, sparkling with flecks of emerald and amber. So damn complex that I could spend a lifetime gazing into them and still not see every detail. There was wariness in her gaze still but, dancing at the edges, was also an unguarded wish. A jolt ran from the crown of my head to the soles of my feet.
I felt like we were suspended in time.
I couldn't look away, couldn't even blink, afraid to shatter the moment.
It wasn't just my Alpha responding to an Omega. Not just the primal pull and biological imperative. I wanted her. I wanted Nelly. No other Omega could make me feel this way. I wanted her defiance, her anger, her tears, and her tomorrow.
But wild things shouldn't be caged, no matter how precious they are. No matter how much you might want to keep them close. My people had always understood this, had taught me from childhood that all beings deserved freedom, that forcing another to bend to your will violated the natural order of things.
Every living, breathing thing in this world had to walk their own path, of their own volition. Who was I to interfere with Nelly's path, to try to redirect it toward me, toward us, if that wasn't where she was meant to go?
But as I watched her gently stroke Ghost's nose and I felt the connection between us humming like a plucked string, I found myself hoping. Hoping that she might choose to stay, that she might give us—give me—a chance to prove we could be worthy of her.
