//CLARA//
The stables didn't smell like the damp, depressing stone. Instead, they smelled of fresh cedar, expensive hay, and of course, horses.
Casimir led me to the far end, where the stall is larger than my first walk-in closet back home. Inside was a beast that looked less like a horse and more like pegasus without wings. He was a pure, blinding white British Thoroughbred. Eyes gleaming with violence to anyone who dared touch him.
"This is Snow," Casimir said, beaming with adoration and pride as he stare into the beast.
The stallion, Snow—what a very original name—let out an aggressive huff, tossing his head. He was wild, a living storm of muscle and temperament. But as Casimir stepped closer, laying a firm hand on the stallion's neck, the beast settled, immediately recognizing his master.
"He's beautiful," I whispered, genuinely captivated.
I couldn't help it. The horse was breathtaking in the most literal sense.
"Beautifully so."
"Yes, he is, I suppose," Casimir replied flatly, but when I turned, I realized he wasn't looking at the stallion at all.
His gaze was pinned directly on me, heavy and unreadable.
I cleared my throat, trying to regain my composure.
"He's a little wild… but with the right person, he can be tamed."
I reached out, my hand instinctively wanting to stroke that powerful neck, but I caught myself and pulled back.
In Snow's eyes, I was a total stranger. We had no bond, and a beast like this would probably take my arm off if I stepped into his comfort zone without an invitation.
Rule number one: respect the horse, and they'll respect you.
Casimir had clearly earned that respect.
"You speak as if you know him," he noted, his eyebrows arching in that way that made me feel like I was under a microscope again.
"I just know the type," I said, giving him a pointed look. "Wild, temperamental, and thinks he's the boss of everyone? Yeah, I've met a few."
He didn't say anything and led Snow out from his stable. I followed them closely, then in one fluid motion that made my pulse do a little skip-rope jump, Casimir swings up. He didn't even use a mounting block. He just…went.
With a sharp whistle, he sent Snow into a gallop around the paddock. The white horse moving like a streak of lightning against the dirt. Too enthusiastic to be ridden.
A stable hand led out another horse. A high-end broodmare with a coat like liquid honey. She strutted gracefully toward me, her nose sniffing at my hair. Her temperament was as gentle as a Sunday morning, the complete opposite of Snow's.
"This is amber," Casimir called out, pulling Snow to a halt. "Snow's chosen mate. She is docile, obedient, and far more suited to a delicate lady."
Delicate? I bit my tongue to keep from laughing.
I looked at Amber. She was beautiful, sure, but she looked like she'd wait for a crosswalk to signal green before moving. I mounted her, feeling the familiar creak of the leather.
Casimir probably thought he was being generous by giving me the safe horse, but he had no idea.
Back on the ranch, Papops had me on horse before I was even tall enough to reach the pedals of a car. I might not be an Olympic-kind equestrian, but I knew how to talk to a horse.
I even did a Vogue cover last year. I was riding a rearing stallion, wearing nothing but ten-carat emeralds to cover my chest and a C-string.
We did a few polite lap around, familiarizing Amber's movement under my command. Riding her was like driving a Cadillac, smooth, boring and perfectly predictable. Beside me, Casimir and Snow were a chaotic, beautiful mess of energy.
My eyes went ahead, towards the sprawling, untamed land behind the estate. A private woodland that bled into the horizon.
I caught Casimir's eye, an idea crawling from the pits of my mind. A sly grin spreads on my lips.
"She's lovely, Casimir. Really. She's a great listener," I said, leaning forward and tightening my grip on the reins. "But I think she's bored and up for a challenge. And frankly, so am I."
Before he could protest, I veered Amber sharply away from the paddock, heading straight for the open trail.
"Cla—Eleanor!"
"Race you to the treeline!" I yelled over my shoulder, ignoring his frantic voice.
I didn't wait for him to recover his senses. I dug my heels in, and we took off like a shot.
I was laughing, a loud, unladylike sound that can probably be heard all the way back to the manor. Loving the way the wind swept across my face, stinging my cheeks and whipping my hair loose from its pins. For the first time since I woke up in this century, my lungs fully expanded with exhilaration.
Casimir caught up in seconds. Snow was a monster, his hooves tearing up the turf as they surged past me. I was losing, I know, and losing fast as we near the treeline. But if there's one thing I am great at: it's manipulating the audience.
"Casimir!" I screamed, suddenly slumped over Amber's neck.
I let out a jagged, pained gasp.
"Wait! My side—I can't—"
The change in him was instant. His speed reduced significantly, the competitive fire in his eyes died, replaced by a sharp panic. He hauled on Snow's reins, slowing the massive stallion to a halt as he turned back toward me.
"Clara, are you—"
The moment he was right on my side just enough to see the anguish on my face, his composure loose and off guarded, I straightened up and flashed him a wicked, toothy grin.
"See yah, sucker!"
I kicked Amber into a dead sprint. She wasn't Snow, but with a head start and a surprise opponent, she was like a bullet. I left Casimir in a literal cloud of dust, my laughter echoing through the trees as I crossed the finish line first and halted through the overlooking valley.
I dismounted, my chest still heaving, my hair a mess of fallen pins. The sun was dipping low, painting the sky in bruises of purple and gold, while the gaslights of the city began to twinkle in the distance.
"You cheated," he spoke in a husk, heavy with accusation.
"I won," I corrected, beaming at him. "Don't be a sore loser, Casimir. It's beneath a man of your…stature."
He dismounted then. He didn't tether Snow. He just walked toward me until I was backed against Amber's flank.
"You used my concern for you as a weapon," he voice dropped, stepping into my personal space until the heat from his body fought the evening chill.
He reached out, his gloved hand tangling in a loose strand of my hair.
"That is a very dangerous game to place with a man like me, Clara."
"Is it?" I challenged, tilting my chin up. "What are you going to do? Put me on time-out?"
His hand moved from my hair to the back of my neck, his thumb pressing into the pulse point at my throat. I could feel my heart racing beneath his touch, and I knew he could feel it too.
He leaned in, his lips hovering just a fraction of an inch from mine. The slight scent of whiskey, ink, and horse was intoxicating.
"You are the exquisite ruin of my every waking thought," he rasped, his gaze flickering with a hunger that bordered on starvation.
"A persistent, beautiful plague I cannot break from. I know exactly how this ends, with my ruin, and yet I find I'm still thirsty for it."