Page 37 of Ranger's Oath
“Harder doesn’t mean worse.” I let the words hang, loaded, before I add with a grin, “Sometimes harder is better.”
His mouth twitches, like he’s choking back a laugh, but instead of giving me the satisfaction he pivots on his heel. He leaves with a muttered comment about me being impossible. My pulse keeps hammering long after the door shuts behind him, heat lingering in my skin, and only then do I notice the grin stretching across my face in the dark.
I try to force my attention back to the invoices, but my focus slips apart. The memory of his gaze and the weight of command in his voice tug at me until the rows of numbers smear across the screen. Frustration spikes and I slam the laptop shut before I give in to the dangerous urge to chase after him. The worst part is that a small, reckless corner of me longs to do exactly that.
Cassidy pokes her head back in a few minutes later. “Don’t let Gage get to you. He hovers when he cares. Drives me insane, too.”
I snort. “Hovering is an understatement.”
“You’re good at rattling him, though. I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you.”
“Like he wants to strangle me?”
“Like he wants to devour you whole.” Cassidy grins, eyes wicked. “Trust me. I know the signs.”
Heat floods my cheeks, and I throw a piece of crumpled up paper at her. “Get out.”
She bats away the ball of paper and laughs as she retreats, leaving me with a heart that won’t slow. I put my head in my hands, wondering when surviving became tangled with wanting.
Later, twilight bleeds across the sky. Cassidy beckons me outside, past the inner fence. “You’re strung too tight,” she says. “Run with me.”
I hesitate. “Now?”
“Yes. Trust me. Come on; the guys have built a small changing room for us.” She pulls her shirt over her head without hesitation. “We can stash our clothes in here.” She leads me into a small changing room built off the porch. Baskets line the wall for clothes and shoes, with a few stools to sit on. She folds her clothes with practiced ease, tucks them into a basket, and waits.
My cheeks heat, but I strip down too, tucking everything into a basket. The air prickles cool against my skin. Cassidy takes my hand. “Close your eyes. Let it come.”
The mist rises from the ground, rolling thick, curling around us. It shimmers with streaks of violet, green, and gold, lightning snapping, thunder rumbling soft as a drumroll. My heart kicks faster, body weightless for a breathless instant. Then it’s over. Four paws press against the earth where my feet had been.
I give my coat a hard shake, every strand alive with sensation as the world sharpens into startling clarity. Light feels richer, sound layered and immediate. Cassidy presses her flank against mine in encouragement before surging ahead. I match her stride, and together we launch forward into the open space.
I move easily into stride, paws steady on the ground as if they have always known this rhythm. Cassidy keeps close, her presence a steady beat beside me. My body stretches into motion, muscles working in harmony, and exhilaration surges through me. The wind rushes past, carrying with it a sense of power and release so fierce it makes me want to howl. Cassidy barks once, playful, and I answer, the sound tearing free in pure delight.
We chase each other along the fence, paws drumming, mist still sparking overhead. She veers left, daring me to follow. I leapover a fallen branch and surge ahead, strength pouring through me like it’s always been there. The thunder from the sky fades, leaving only the pulse of life in my chest. By the time we slow, my sides heave with joy more than exhaustion. I can’t remember the last time I felt this alive.
We pad back to the ranch and slip into the small changing room. The mist rises once more, swallowing us in light and thunder, and when it clears I’m human again, lungs heaving and skin buzzing as if charged with a hidden current.
Cassidy smiles. “See? Not so terrifying.”
“Terrifying and amazing.” I laugh, shaky but real. “Like holding lightning in your hands.”
Cassidy grins. “Exactly. And you’ll get better each time. Stronger. Faster. You’re already adapting faster than I did.”
We dress in silence before stepping into the main hall of the house. The earlier tightness in my chest loosens, ebbing away as a rare calm spreads through me, steady and grounding, a kind of peace I never thought I could claim.
Gage waits in the kitchen, braced casually against the counter like he belongs there, though the tightness in his stance betrays control held on a short leash. His gaze fixes on me, steady and unreadable, yet when our eyes lock there’s the briefest flash of something raw before it vanishes. Cassidy squeezes my arm in a silent nudge of encouragement and drifts past, leaving the two of us facing each other in the quiet.
He studies me. “Better?”
“Much.” I pause, listening. There’s a subtle hitch in his breathing, a pause so small most would miss it. But I hear it. Clear as a note out of tune.
I step closer. “You just hesitated.”
His eyes narrow. “What?”
“Your voice. You tried to sound calm, but you caught yourself. I heard it.”
He straightens, shoulders taut. “You’re imagining things.”
