Page 87 of The Prince of Power

I look up sharply. “Where?”

He smirks. “It’s a surprise.”

A beat passes, and then an idea begins to form. I cross my arms over my chest. “If you want me to go, you’ll have to tell me more. Why you’re keeping me. What you actually need me for.”

His jaw ticks. That cool mask of control slips—just a hair—but enough for me to catch the crack.

“I mean it.” My voice is steady. “It’s the only way I’ll go with you.”

A taut silence stretches between us. For a moment, I think he might bark something cruel just to remind me who’s in charge. But then he leans back, his expression softening. “I’ll tell you more,” he says. “On our trip.”

26

Damian

“Ava, ride with me,” I say as I run my hand down the horse’s flank. “I’d rather you sit in front of me.”

She folds her arms. “I’d rather not.”

I suppress a sigh, glancing toward the hills. The cottage is on a secluded part of the Thornecroft estate, perched high above the cliffs with nothing but wild terrain between us and the ocean. There’s no road leading up to it—no way for a car to get there. Only two winding trails that were carved into the landscape generations ago.

“You’re not experienced enough.”

My voice is sharp, commanding—like a strict father, but I don’t give a fuck. Ever since I made the decision to keep her, I’ve become a dragon guarding its hoard. There are countless dangers in this world, threats she can’t begin to fathom. I’ll be damned if I let reckless pride put her delicate neck at risk over something as trivial as riding a horse.

Ava lifts her chin. “I’ve ridden before.”

“Oh? And where was that? A birthday party pony ride?”

Her eyes flash. “No. I’m much more experienced than that.” She strides past me and swings herself onto my horse. My breath catches.

Her seat is perfect. Her posture is easy, natural, like she was raised in a saddle.

She leans forward, running a hand down the horse’s neck. “Saddle the black one. He looks restless.”

Then, without another word, she digs her heels in and gallops off.

For a long moment, I just stand there watching her disappear down the trail, the sound of hooves fading into the wind.

My precious girl can ride.

I turn around and stride into the stable. In moments, the saddle is secured, the bridle’s in place, and I’m spurring the horse forward. The wind stings my face as I gallop down the trail after her.

“Where did you learn to ride?” I ask when I’m beside her.

Her smile is mischievous. “Vacation.”

“It must have been a long vacation. You look like you’ve been riding all your life.”

She glances up at me from under her lashes. “I used to stay on this island in the Caribbean as a little kid. There were horses and a riding instructor there.”

The reins slip through my fingers.

Island.

A cold trickle slides down my spine, pooling deep in my stomach.

It’s nothing.

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