She solved it in one smooth motion, vaulting up behind the saddle with effortless grace that stole the breath right out of him. "Damn," he muttered, swinging up in front of her. "My people were riding horses long before yours crossed the ocean," she shot back, wrapping her arms around his waist as she urged Gravewind forward into the canyon. The contact hit him harder than it should have. Not just the warmth of her, but how natural it felt.
Like she belonged there. Like she always had. Behind them, angry shouts erupted as the men found the empty tree. Dax risked a glance back, three riders bursting from between the rocks, hard-faced men with the kind of eyes that enjoyed hurting others. "They're part of Varick Holt's crew," Sihaya said, her voice tight.
"They've been hunting me for 3 days." "Why?" Dax asked, steering Gravewind toward higher ground for an advantage. He didn't get an answer. A gunshot cracked through the canyon. The bullet slammed into rock just feet from them.
Their pursuers were mounted now, closing fast. "Hold on," Dax said, feeling her grip tighten around him. What he did next would either get them out alive or get them both killed. But when he looked back at her, those dark, unyielding eyes, something long buried inside him stirred awake. And there was no way in hell he was letting Varick Holt's men drag her back into whatever hell they'd pulled her from.
The chase drove us into country that would have tested a mountain goat. Gravewind proved exactly why I'd paid three times his worth 3 years back. He climbed every slope and narrow ledge like he'd been born to it. Behind us, the men chasing us struggled on weaker mounts, their recklessness fueled more by arrogance than skill. "There," Sihaya said, pointing ahead toward a jagged cluster of rock about half a mile out.
"There are caves. We can lose them there." I didn't question her. Out here, her knowledge of the land was the only thing keeping us breathing. As we reached the rocks, she slipped down from Gravewind in one smooth, silent motion, despite her towering frame.
"This way," she whispered, guiding us into a maze of stone where even sound seemed to vanish. The cave she chose barely let Gravewind squeeze through the entrance, but deeper inside it opened into a wide chamber, dark enough to hide us from any quick search. Once my eyes adjusted to the dim light filtering through cracks in the ceiling, I finally saw what those men had done to her. Her dress, traditional, once proud, was torn in several places, exposing bruises along her arms and a cut across her cheek that made my blood run hot. But more than the wounds, it was the way she still carried herself, upright, unbroken, that struck harder than any injury.