Page 64 of My Dark Horse Prince

I’m imagining a future with this crazy horse-mage-prince. It’s nuts, but something about him, in spite of his power and domineering attitude, makes me feel. . .safe.

“I wish you would turn back into a man.”

The change feels like it happens even faster this time. He shrinks down from a massive beast into a human man in the blink of an eye. He’s still massive and muscled, but he’s much closer to my size. He’s staring at me in much the same way he did after that first transformation, his eyes boring into me without any sign of turning away.

His head drops near mine again, like he did when he was a horse, but instead of comfort, the proximity sends electric jolts through my body, radiating outward from my chest like pulses of light. His lips are full and perfectly curved, and I realize he’s about to kiss me.

And the biggest shock of all is that. . .I want him to.

Until I remember that he’s utterly and completely naked, and I shriek like a little girl seeing her first spider.

He claps one hand over my mouth. “Hush. Do you want people to—”

But it’s too late.

Sergey, followed closely by what appears to be a gardener and maybe a guard or something, comes sprinting around from the front of the house and they pull up short, their mouths gaping, their eyes wide.

Luckily they’re all men, but I still feel my blush start in my toes and flood my entire body. I’m sure I’m absolutely beet red.

“Master,” Sergey says, finally realizing who the naked man is. “You’re—” He swallows and stammers. “N-n-naked.”

“I am.” Grigoriy decides to lean into it, I guess, spreading his shoulders and setting his feet. Unfortunately the motion has me looking down, and I nearly jump out of my skin, trying to avert my eyes and shift away from him.

“Aren’t you cold, sir?” Sergey appears to be regaining his composure.

The guard person shrugs out of his jacket and starts walking toward us.

“No, it’s alright. I have clothing here.” Grigoriy points to the hedge. “I was practicing the ancient Chinese art of Hengshu.”

The three men all frown in a nearly identical way.

“It’s almost too late in the season to do it,” Grigoriy continues, “but I forgot my timer. And then I saw Miss Strelkova, whose horse had just galloped away. I thought she might help me by timing me. You have to spend at least ten minutes in the winter elements in order to steel your body against the changing whims of the earth that can’t be controlled.”

What in the galoshes is he saying?

“How much time do you have left?” Sergey asks.

“Six minutes to go,” I say. “And now that you’re here, you can take over.”

I can’t help a little laugh as I hobble away on my crutches, leaving Grigoriy to freeze to death, naked, in front of his new group of employees. I feel a tiny bit guilty? But he’s the idiot who made up something as stupid as the ancient art of Hengshu.

By the time he comes back in, he looks pretty upset, so I duck into my room to hide.

“Hey.” He bangs on the door.

“I’m just calling my mom and sister real quick.”

He grumbles a bit, but that works. Which means I really ought to go ahead and call them. I dial my mom first, but she can’t talk. Apparently she’s busy baking rye bread—Martinš is very particular about it and won’t eat store-bought. Jerk. “Well, it was good to hear your voice, Mom. Be safe while I’m in Russia.”

“I don’t like that you’re getting that surgery there,” she says.

For a split second, my heart swells. She’s worried about me. “I’ll be fine, Mom. I swear.”

“I’ll be praying for you,” she says. “Like always.”

My mom may not stand up for me, and she may not choose me over her husband, but at least she does love me. And prayers from your mother are better than nothing, which is exactly what some people have. “Thanks.”

It looks like my call to Adriana’s going to roll over to voicemail, but at the last second, she picks up. “Hello?”

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