Tattoo’s rancid breath was hot against the boy’s neck. The boy winced, scrunching his nose.

“You’re nice and lubed up for me now, bitch. I can slide right in and take what I want.”

The boy closed his eyes, detaching himself from the horror surrounding him. Above him, Tattoo pumped, but in his mind, the boy was atop a majestic horse, riding into the wind. Nothing in the world mattered except him, his companion, and the acres and acres of green land ahead of him. He could ride all day and never tire of the beautiful Colorado landscape. The wind whisked through his dark hair. Flecks of dust pelted into his eyes, but he didn’t care. He was alone and wild and free. No one could hurt him here. No one could hurt him…

Until that last thrust, when Tattoo socked him upside the head, his forearm dangling in the boy’s vision, the flaming bird etched there as menacing as the man who bore it.

“That’s it, you little pussy. Take it. Take it all.”

 

A loud noise echoed around me as I catapulted into the air. In slow motion I descended, and—

Thunk!

My ass hit the ground. Phoenix continued galloping.

When had I let go? I hadn’t fallen off a horse in… Had I ever?

Of course I had, when I was learning. When I was a kid.

Phoenix. The horse had been a birthday gift from my father when I turned fifteen. I’d hemmed and hawed over naming him. Nothing seemed right. Joe had suggested Midnight, which would have been a good fit. The stallion was a glossy ebony all over. My father had suggested Zeus, because the male who’d sired him had been named Cronus. Both were strong, masculine names, but they didn’t work for me. Marjorie, nearly five at the time, had begged me to name him Barney. I almost caved on that one. I had a soft spot for that little girl. After…the…incident, she had been the only good I could find in the world—an innocent baby with pink cheeks, dark eyes, and a smile for everyone. In the end, though, I couldn’t saddle this impressive, muscular animal with a purple dinosaur’s name. He’d stayed nameless for two months…until I saw a poster of a dazzling, colorful bird rising from vibrant multicolored flames at the local five-and-dime.

Phoenix.

That was my horse’s name. It spoke of strength, of rebirth, of second chances.

That poster had graced the wall of my room for a decade. As I sat, my ass numb, my head beginning to ache, I conjured the emotions the image had evoked in me—that it still invoked in me, though the poster was long gone.

My heart thundered as the phoenix, as beautiful as it was terrifying, swooped toward me, its flaming wings heating my face. I closed my eyes, breathed…breathed…

The bird had become a contradictory symbol in my life.

I had to rise from the ashes of my past. I had to be the phoenix.

But the phoenix represented…hell.

How had all of that escaped me for so long?

Ahead, Phoenix finally slowed to a trot and then stopped. I whistled, and he turned and walked back to me.

I took him over to a small pool of water nearby for a drink. Fresh Rocky Mountain spring water. Nothing like it. I splashed some of the cool liquid on my face.

I sat down, cradling my head in my hands.

What was I going to do? I missed Jade so much that I physically ached when I wasn’t with her. How could I have allowed someone to get under my skin like that? How had I become so obsessed? I could never be with her. This I knew as a solid fact. Yet I wanted her back at the house, at my beck and call. I wanted her in my bed every night, my cock in her pussy every night. I wanted to mark her, make her mine.

But that was never to be.

I took the curry comb out of the saddlebag and brushed Phoenix.

Phoenix.

It had been his name for twenty years. I couldn’t change it now. Besides, it fit him. He was a beautiful animal, black as night and sleek as suede. He stood sixteen-and-a-half hands tall at the withers, not a giant but a darn big horse. He was a Morgan—shiny, fast, and friendly.

I loved this animal as much as I loved that little mutt of mine.

And I loved Jade even more—more than my animals, more than my brothers, more than my sister.

Not only more but in a totally different way—and I didn’t mean the physical part.

Jade had now become as essential to me as the blood in my veins.

I wasn’t sure I could learn to live without her.

I moved to stand, and the small of my back throbbed down to the crease of my ass. I might’ve bruised my tailbone. Nothing to be done. Time to get back on the horse.

Get back on the horse. I chuckled to myself. What a cliché. I’d heard it so many times before. Just get back on the horse, Talon. Don’t give in to your fear.

Truth was, I had no fear. I had enlisted in the Marines, hoping I’d go overseas and get my head blown off. It hadn’t happened. Instead I blew a few heads off myself and saved some of my fellow servicemen. People liked to call me a hero. Just like Ryan did.

I wasn’t a hero.

Heroes could live with themselves.

I was the one who had gone running into the line of fire to drag fallen men back, to make sure they got medical treatment.

That’s what people thought, anyway.

But they were wrong.

I ran into fire, trying to get shot.

I never did.

I’d been back on the ranch for three years now, and I still hadn’t truly found my place. I was good enough at running the orchard, and even when I didn’t feel up to it, I had the best foreman in the business and several under him who could take care of things.

Axel had taken care of things while I was overseas, and the orchards had flourished.

I really wasn’t needed here, but every time I tried to leave, my brothers talked me out of it.

They both felt so much guilt over what happened to me. I wished I could free them from it, but I was powerless. I couldn’t help anyone, least of all myself. It would be better for them if I left. They could go on with their lives.

But now…

I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Jade.

True, I had kicked her out of my house myself several days earlier, but nothing had felt right when she was gone. She wouldn’t come back. As much as I wanted her to, my actions earlier had taken care of that.

I must’ve scared her. Hell, I’d scared myself. That screaming—and God only knew what else I had done. It was all a blur to me now.

“Come on, fella,” I said, mounting Phoenix and wincing at the ache in my tailbone. “Let’s go find Joe.”