Page 47 of My Queendom for a Horse

Sean seems to recognize that he’s not safe, and luckily, he begins to jog toward his car.

“Knock it off,” I hiss, “or I’ll change you right here. Then you can see how Sean feels about you being a man. I wonder who else he might tell.”

Obsidian finally stops.

Once Sean’s out of sight, I slide down from Obsidian’s back. The ground’s an awfully long way down, and it hurts when my bare feet hit the already icy gravel. I can’t help whimpering.

Obsidian’s head whips around so fast, he practically knocks me over. His big, warm mouth nuzzles around, as if he’s trying to figure out whether I’m alright. “It just hurt my feet,” I say. “And I’m absolutely freezing.”

He throws his head toward the barn.

“Oh, I don’t think so.” I glance around, checking to see whether anyone else is within our circle of visibility. When I don’t see a soul, I throw a hand up on his side and shift him.

Then I turn and run for the barn while he reorients from the shift. I’m half-inclined to throw the barn door closed and let him freeze outside while I change, but I end up settling for a head start.

By the time he finally gets upstairs, I’m already changed into the sturdy pants and work boots Sean brought, and Aleks is wearing pants, at least.

His eyes are just as bright in human form as they were as a horse. “You lied.”

I shake my head. “I was going to come back later—I never said exactly when. In fact, I was pretty clear that I didn’t want you to come.”

“You aren’t safe with him—”

Fury bubbles up inside of me, and I thrust a pointing finger right at him, jabbing him in the chest. “You don’t get to decide that. You’re a crazy, ancient horse-man! You can’t even keep yourself safe, much less me.”

He freezes then, his bare chest heaving, his mouth dangling open just a bit. His eyes are hurt, and I realize that he hadn’t really thought about it from that perspective.

To hear him tell the story, he was a noble of some kind—a prince, he keeps insisting—and he owned quite a lot of property. He had loads of servants and a huge estate with a gigantic mansion. He had power, and he was magical. He had allies and enemies, and he was a fairly scary dude.

Now he’s woken up and a hundred years are gone, and his friends are not around—some are dead—and he can’t use his magic. He’s trapped, really.

Defenseless.

Penniless.

Powerless.

It must hurt.

I actually feel a little bad for rubbing his face in it.

Then he repositions himself slightly, and I realize that after jabbing him with my finger, I didn’t drop my hand. I’ve been doing all this thinking with one hand pressed against his bare chest.

His very muscular, very warm, very naked chest. My hand is trembling when I step away from him. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to hurt your feelings.”

“But you feel safer when I’m not around.”

“And when I’m not riding bareback through the countryside in the freezing air,” I say. “Yes, that’s true.”

His very full, very expressive lips are pressed into a tight line. His eyes look hard.

“You aren’t a prince here,” I say softly. “You’re just a man, stuck pretending to be a horse until I can extricate you from this mess. I really, really need you to start listening to me.”

Even if it means he feels powerless and vulnerable? Because I hate the way he looks right now. I’d almost rather deal with the overbearing, insufferable Aleks than this one, the crushed, defeated one with the shadowed eyes.

“I require more clothing,” he says. “All that’s left, now that you shredded my other decent shirt yesterday, are ratty, dirty things left by who knows what kind of person who used to live here.”

I sigh. “Fine. I’ll take you shopping tomorrow night.”

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