Page 84 of Thunder's Reckoning

I stared him down. “Long walk for a man who ain’t from around here.”

He shrugged again, lazy as sin. “Guess I like the scenery.”

Horse’s fist flexed tight round his glass, but he didn’t say a word. Just turned his glare back on the bottles lined behind the bar, jaw grindin’ loud enough I could damn near hear bone on bone.

Wrath flicked the chip once more, then pocketed it. “Didn’t mean anything by it. Just wondered.” He clapped Horse’s shoulder, light, then pushed off toward the tables like he hadn’t just dropped a grenade.

Horse finally downed his drink in one swallow, poured another, eyes still burnin’. His hand clenched again, knuckles bone white, and then he slammed the glass down hard enough to crack the rim. Whiskey spilled across the counter, but he didn’t so much as blink.

His jaw was locked, eyes gone dark and dangerous, hotter than I’d seen in a long damn time.

Brenda. With another man.

Everybody knew she meant more to Horse than he’d ever admit. Pretendin’ otherwise never changed the truth.

And now? Looked like someone else had stepped right into the space he kept pushin’ her out of.

This wasn’t gonna end well.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

THE DOOR CLICKEDshut behind him, soft but final.

Zeke leaned there a moment, broad shoulders filling the frame, the dim lamplight cutting across his face. His boots were dusty, his shirt still carried the scent of the outdoors, and his eyes—God, his eyes looked like they’d seen too much tonight. He didn’t say a word. Just stood still, breathing like the weight of the day hadn’t let him go yet.

The room felt smaller with him in it. Not in a suffocating way, but in a way that pulled every part of me toward him. I shifted against the pillows, blankets pulled to my waist, the warm glow of the lamp casting shadows along the walls. Thekids were asleep in the next room, safe and dreaming. For the first time in days, I let myself feel like this moment was mine to claim. Ours.

“You okay?” I asked softly.

He nodded once. “Yeah.”

But I knew better. That heaviness in his voice wasn’t exhaustion. It was the kind of weight that came from carrying something you couldn’t set down. Still, when he looked at me, the edge of his mouth curved into a smile, small, frayed, but real.

“Come here,” I whispered, lifting the blanket.

For a heartbeat, he didn’t move. Then his jaw flexed and the tension bled from his shoulders. He kicked off his boots, let his cut slide from his shoulders onto the chair, and stripped down piece by piece. His movements weren’t rushed. He took his time, like every second closer to me mattered.

By the time the mattress dipped beneath his weight, my pulse was racing. Then his arm slid around me, pulling me in tight against the heat of his chest. The sound of his heartbeat thundered steady under my ear, and I felt something inside me loosen.

“Missed you,” he murmured, lips brushing my temple.

A smile tugged at me. “You saw me this afternoon.”

“Still,” he breathed, and the way he said it made my chest ache.

I leaned back enough to see his face. His eyes, tired as they were, softened when they found mine. My fingers brushed over the ink on his arm, tracing the curves of black, slow, memorizing. His breath hitched, and that alone sent heat curling through me.

“Feels like we’re living in a dream,” I whispered.

His brow lifted. “This feel like a dream to you?”

“No,” I said, voice trembling. “Feels like the part right before you wake up. When it’s warm. Safe. And you’re afraid it won’t last.”

His gaze darkened, his hand cupping my cheek. “It’ll last. I’ll make damn sure of it.”

The kiss I gave him was soft at first. Sweet. The kind of kiss meant to be remembered. But the moment his mouth parted, the taste of him hit me like fire. I didn’t want to stop. My hand slid down his chest, over the scars and the strength that made him, down the ridges of muscle until I felt him shiver under my touch.

He caught my wrist gently, thumb brushing over the pulse hammering there. “Sable… you sure? We went pretty hard last night.”