Gravity jolted Alesya’s consciousness back with cruel coldness.
Declan Ashford’s voice at the doorway shattered the hot bubble of air that had momentarily enclosed them.
Revan didn’t let go immediately.
For two seconds that felt like an eternity, the man’s muscular arms remained wrapped around Alesya’s waist, keeping her pressed against his rumbling chest.
Revan’s gray eyes stared at Alesya’s lips with a hunger so intense it was nearly uncontrollable, before slowly… very slowly… lowering Alesya’s feet onto the sand.
As soon as the soles of her boots touched the ground, Revan pulled his hands away.
The sensation of loss was instant and painful.
The cold morning air instantly swept through the empty space between their bodies, making Alesya’s sweat-dampened skin prickle violently.
Alesya’s knees trembled slightly as she bore her own weight, but she locked her joints and refused to sway.
She smoothed the hem of her gray shirt with quick, clinical movements, trying to swallow the heartbeat that was pounding all the way up to her throat.
Revan turned to face the arena door.
The man’s posture changed instantly.
His broad shoulders hardened, his aura returned to its freezing cold state, and his eyes fixed on Declan with a sharpness that could slit a throat.
“Don’t you have anywhere else to be this morning, Declan?” Revan’s voice was low and dangerous.
Declan stepped in with a relaxed smile that was far too wide.
The man wore a caramel-colored leather bomber jacket and sunglasses draped over the collar of his shirt.
His messy blond hair and bright blue eyes radiated the typical charm of an equestrian circuit playboy who was used to getting away with anything.
“Actually, I do,” Declan said innocently, strolling casually across the sand.
“But Marcus said you were testing your new vet without a saddle, and I couldn’t miss the show of Revan Caldwell finally learning to share his arena.”
Declan’s gaze shifted to Alesya.
The man’s eyes swept over Alesya from head to toe, assessing her tight black riding breeches, her messy braid, and the pink flush that still burned her cheeks.
Declan extended his hand with the elegance of a rogue nobleman.
“Declan Ashford,” his voice was soft and friendly.
“And you must be the legendary Dr.
Alesya Vargas.
The first woman to successfully make Revan take off his expensive gloves.”
Alesya stared at the outstretched hand for a second, then shook it with a firm, professional grip.
“Dr.
Vargas is fine,” Alesya answered calmly.
“And it wasn’t magic, Mr.
Ashford.
It was just basic biomechanics.”
Declan chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling with amusement.
“Sharp.
I like it.”
“Declan,” Revan growled, stepping forward half a pace.
The movement was subtle, yet it clearly positioned his tall body between Declan and Alesya.
A territorial gesture so primal it made the hair on the back of Alesya’s neck stand up.
“Corrado needs cooling down,” Revan continued coldly.
“Take him to the outer wash bay if you want to be useful.”
Declan raised both hands in surrender, but the smirk on his face only widened as he glanced at Revan, then at Alesya.
“Of course, buddy.
I’ll get Corrado out of here before you decide to kill me with that look,” Declan whispered mischievously.
As he passed Alesya to take Corrado’s lead rope, Declan whispered loud enough for her to hear: “Be careful with him, Doc.
He bites when he’s hungry.”
Revan didn’t respond.
His jaw clenched so hard the veins in his temples twitched.
After Declan led Corrado out and the arena door closed again, suffocating silence ambushed them once more.
Alesya didn’t look at Revan.
She didn’t dare.
Her body still remembered clearly what it felt like to be held in the air by the man, how Revan’s thigh muscles had pressed against her hips, and how their lips had been only millimeters away from destruction.
“We’re not done with Phantom today,” Alesya said, deliberately making her voice cold and stiff to cut through the thick sexual tension still hanging in the air.
Revan looked at her from the side.
His gray eyes were dark, unreadable.
“You almost broke your neck ten minutes ago, Alesya.”
“And you caught me,” Alesya cut in sharply, finally turning to lock eyes with the man.
“That means your reflexes are improving.
Now, bring Phantom to the outdoor arena.”
Alesya didn’t wait for an answer.
She turned and walked out of the indoor arena, refusing to let the man see how badly her hands were still trembling inside her jacket pockets.
Thirty minutes later, they were in the west outdoor arena.
The Florida sun had risen fully, burning off the morning mist and warming the white arena sand until it glittered gold.
Phantom stood beside Alesya without a saddle, wearing only a simple leather cavesson.
The black stallion seemed much calmer today.
His ears twitched gently, his large black eyes watching Alesya’s every move with extraordinary obedience.
Revan stood by the edge of the wooden fence, his arms resting on the top rail, watching in silence.
His black t-shirt was damp from the earlier workout, clinging to his broad chest muscles.
The man’s gaze never left Alesya’s figure.
Alesya had placed three white wooden ground poles in a row in the center of the arena, spaced regularly at 1.2 meters apart, creating a basic trot rhythm path.
“Yesterday he only stepped over one pole,” Alesya said from the center of the arena, her voice cutting through the warm wind.
“Today we build rhythm.
Trauma makes his brain lose memory of distance and beat.”
Alesya held the long cotton lunge line in her left hand, letting it hang loose without tension.
She looked at Phantom.
“Shh…
Vamos, mi rey,” Alesya whispered softly.
The woman raised her right hand slightly, giving a vocal cue with a rhythmic click of her tongue.
Tsk.
Tsk.
Phantom responded immediately.
The giant stallion began to step around Alesya in a large circle.
His gait was graceful.
The muscles of his shiny black back flexed in rhythm with the trot of his hooves on the sand.
Alesya didn’t use a lunge whip.
She used her own body as the axis of energy.
She breathed deeply, lowering her own heart rate frequency, radiating an absolute calm that was absorbed by the horse around her.
“Trot transition,” Alesya murmured quietly.
Phantom lifted his head, shifting into a regular trot.
The white wooden poles approached in his path.
From the edge of the arena, Revan unconsciously straightened his back.
His left hand gripped the wooden fence rail so hard his knuckles turned white.
His left shoulder tensed automatically.
Old memories screamed in his head: He will refuse.
He will panic and turn away.
Phantom was three meters from the first pole.
The stallion’s ears flicked back for a moment, his stride shortening slightly as he detected the obstacle on the ground.
“Alesya, his breathing,” Revan’s voice hissed low from the edge of the arena, heavy with uncontrollable anxiety.
“Calm down, Revan,” Alesya replied without looking back.
“Don’t send your fear into this arena.”
Alesya exhaled a long, slow breath through her lips, creating a soft hissing sound familiar to Phantom.
She loosened the cotton line by another inch.
I trust you.
The silent message was conveyed perfectly.
Phantom lowered his neck, trusting the space in front of him.
Tap.
His left front leg stepped cleanly over the first pole.
Tap.
His right leg landed between the first and second poles.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
One.
Two.
Three.
Phantom crossed all three wooden poles in a fluid, perfect trot rhythm, without a single pause of fear.
No panicked jump.
No wild refusal.
There was only the pure biomechanical beauty of an elite athlete horse rediscovering his memory of freedom.
Fine sand scattered in the air as Phantom completed his circle and slowed naturally, turning to face Alesya in the center of the circle, then walking closer with his head bowed obediently.
Alesya closed her eyes for a moment, a sense of relief so immense exploded in her chest that her eyes felt hot.
She spread her arms, welcoming Phantom’s large muzzle as it immediately rested in the crook of her neck.
“Good boy,” Alesya whispered hoarsely, her voice trembling with pure joy.
“You’re incredible, Phantom.
Incredible.”
The stallion exhaled a long, warm breath against Alesya’s neck skin, sniffing her strands of hair with affection.
From the edge of the fence, the creak of wood was heard as Revan pushed his body away from the barrier.
The man stepped into the arena, walking across the sand toward the two of them.
Alesya looked up as Revan’s tall shadow blocked the sunlight.
The woman prepared herself to receive technical criticism or the cold arrogance that usually came from the man’s mouth.
But those words never came.
Revan stopped right beside Phantom’s head.