Wild Honey Read Free Page A

worse.
    When Sam didn’t move, the Phantom repeated the movements with more energy, flinging a silver profusion of mane and forelock to underline his command.
    When she still didn’t obey, he bolted forward. Droplets sprayed as he cut the distance between them in half and stepped from the creek to the bank.
    Crouched between the stallion and the lead mare, Sam knew she was in danger. It might look to him as if she kept the mare from obeying his summons.
    The stallion knew her. She’d raised him from a foal, but the accusing look he flashed her showed no hint of memory.
    â€œZanzibar,” Sam whispered, but the stallion pawed the creekbank, tossing spatters of mud.
    It was what Brynna would call an aggressive display. Infuriated by the sight of the rope slung over her shoulder and her refusal to flee, he arched his neck until muscles rippled under his silver hide and his chin bumped his chest.
    Keep your silly human friendship, the stallion signaled her.
    The palomino was his and Sam had no part in his life as a herd stallion.
    â€œI can’t leave,” Sam whispered. “She’s bleeding. You can chase off the coyotes or cougars that might smell it, but you can’t help her heal, and I can. Maybe.”
    The Phantom drummed his front hooves, then lowered his head and snaked it in a herding movement he’d use for any mare or foal. And Sam knew what would happen if the mare or foal was slow to respond. If they were lucky, they’d see his bared teeth coming their way and get going.
    Even though he’d never bitten her, Sam held her breath and then, as the Phantom’s head struck toward her like something primitive and mythical, a griffin or a fire-eyed snake, she curled her arms around herself, ducked her head, and hoped.
    His hooves made the ground below her shake, and Sam knew he’d divided the distance between them in half again. He must be very close because, even curled up for safety, she could smell the clover sweetness of his breath.
    In tiny fractions, Sam lifted her head, letting each vertebrae in her neck align so slowly that for minutes, her eyes saw only mud, the stallion’s hooves, and the wet hair curling above his fetlocks.
    At last, she met his irritated gaze. His head was lowered and his eyes stared from no more than five feet away. Offended and huffing, the Phantom’s expression said he wouldn’t make more allowancesfor her simple human brain.
    She’d received her last warning, so Sam stayed still though the muscles in her thighs quivered from crouching and her Achilles tendons stung. How long could her trembling toes grip the wet dirt and keep her balanced?
    The creek’s prattle must have covered her frightened breaths, because the stallion backed off a step with a satisfied nod, but he hadn’t forgiven her. An iridescent blue-green dragonfly zipped past his nose and Ace’s shod hoof struck rock, but the stallion kept one delicate ear swiveled in Sam’s direction.
    The Phantom was magnificent. Being this close to him was a gift, even if he was threatening her.
    That’s crazy talk, Sam rebuked herself.
    The stallion was wild. She couldn’t predict his actions. She could guess, but she’d been wrong before. She had to get out of this submissive position and beyond the reach of his hooves.
    She’d be insane to risk another concussion or shattered bone on the chance that she could read the stallion’s mind.
    But what should she do?
    The mare decided for her, lurching three steps closer to the stallion. For an instant, Sam saw dried blood cracking, opening a red fissure over the wound. Then, the Phantom wheeled, moving after the mare. His tail sung through the air like a million mosquitoes and lashed Sam’s cheek.
    Enough. Sam scrambled to her feet, backing off, but not running.
    The Phantom cast one more look her way, rolling his eyes and jabbing his muzzle at Sam in a last command to leave the mare to him. He