“He’s not objectifying you.” Hunter shook his head. “He’s trying to keep you alive. Your ass has never ridden before.”

“We have Ash to help us.” I squatted down, adjusting my riding boots.

Ignoring my words, Hunter picked me up from the ground like I was a milk crate, carrying me to Hamilton. He untied the reins on the horse, put my boot in the stirrups, and helped me swing onto the saddle, holding my waist.

“Ash is good, but she’s not a professional. If I bring you back with as much as a scratch, your husband will make me bleed from places that aren’t even on my body.”

“He is right.” Aisling smiled apologetically. “Both about my horseback riding abilities and about Kill.”

“Cillian ignores my existence.”

“You’re still his,” Sam cemented, businesslike. “I don’t need to be physically present in my car in order not to want someone to scratch it.”

“Tell me he did not just say what I think he said.” Belle pointed at Sam, scowling.

Sam stood tall, nonchalant as ever. “So dramatic, Penrose.”

“So chauvinistic, Brennan.”

After much bickering, we headed to the trail. I shook with anxiety and exhilaration even though Hunter was riding close to me on Jay and often leaned over to pat Hamilton and give me visual and verbal instructions.

Behind us, Belle was on Washington, Sam on Madison, Ash on Adams, and Devon on Jefferson. Devon and Belle seemed to overcome the initial frostiness. They were bantering like old friends, hitting it off instantly, while Aisling tried to strike up a conversation with Sam and got slammed each time.

Twenty minutes into ascending the trail to the mountains. I heard the gallop of a horse behind us. Hunter turned his head and groaned, pointing his finger to his temple like it was a gun, cocking it and shooting himself with a comic poof!

“Don’t tell me you didn’t tell your husband you’re riding.”

“I didn’t tell my husband I was riding.” I stared ahead, ignoring the prickle of fear pinching my spine.

Hunter dragged a hand over his face, tipping his head back. “God-fucking-dammit, Pers.”

God-fucking-dammit indeed.

Within three seconds, Cillian was riding by my side on Franklin, pushing Hunter out of the way, forcing him to ride behind us. Everything, from his good looks to his flawless posture, bothered me. His easy movements put us all to shame.

He didn’t wear any riding gear. Not even a helmet.

He did wear an expression of someone who was dangerously close to committing a massacre.

“The hell do you think you’re doing?” His eyes tapered, zoning in on me like a weapon.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” I used the sweetest, most innocent voice in my arsenal.

“Pissing me off.”

“Thought you were above human emotions.”

“This one seems to be reoccurring every time you’re around. You found your calling.”

“Ha,” I gasped, “so I am good at something. And here you thought I was average.”

“Hunter.” Kill snapped his fingers behind him, his hard stare giving my cheek frostbite. “We’re splitting. Lead the group to another trail. I’ll help Persephone get back to the ranch.”

“No, you won’t,” I countered, feeling abnormally irritated. I was the mellowest woman in Boston—voted Most Likely to Replace Mother Teresa in my high school yearbook—but somehow, my husband made me feel angrier than Pax ever did even though Pax had screwed me over so hard I’d almost died.

“Last I checked, it’s a free country. I’m allowed to ride a horse, hubs. Whether you like it or not.”

“The country is free, but the horses are not. Hamilton belongs to me, and I don’t want you riding him. Ceann beag.” Kill turned to his brother again, snarling, “Beat it before I beat you.”

“Sorry, doll. There’s a reason he has a demon in his garden fountain and not a cherub or a fawn. You married Satan, and I don’t want the fucker to assign me a room in hell. He’ll probably put me in the same cul-de-sac with Hitler and the dude who invented berry-flavored La Croix. I deserve better neighbors. Just following orders.” Hunter pushed two fingers into his mouth and whistled, redirecting our friends to a side trail, leaving Cillian and me on the main one.

Lava simmered in my belly. Every inch of my body charred with humiliation.

How dare he scold me publicly after avoiding me the entire weekend?

Our entire marriage?

In the back of my head, something else also bugged me. Something completely trivial.

Cillian had a demon-shaped fountain in his garden, but I hadn’t seen it before. Not even the day Petar snuck me into the house for a tour when Kill wasn’t home.

“I’m getting you off this horse,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Why don’t we start with you just getting me off? You seem to be having trouble in that department,” I hissed out.

“The first and last time I touched you, you came so hard I was worried my dick would have to be removed from you surgically.”

“That was accidental.” All the blood rushing to my face made me hot and sweaty.

“So was my giving you an orgasm.”

“You really want me to hate you, don’t you?”

I didn’t know what I expected when I married him, but it definitely wasn’t this. The hermetic resistance no one could pierce.

“Sailor is not riding,” he pointed out.

“Sailor is pregnant.”

“As far as we know, you could be, too.”

His temper was frayed, and I couldn’t figure out why. I’d stayed well away from him the entire weekend. What else did he want? He seemed to be put off by my existence, and I was growing tired of it.

“If I am pregnant, it’s at a very early stage.”

“All the more reason to be careful.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Kill. Don’t give me this bullshit as though you actually care about my well-being.” My voice cracked, and I turned to face him, momentarily forgetting I was on a horse.

His nostrils flared, and he let go of his rein to pop his fingers.

“Do not curse.”

“Or else?” My chin felt wobbly, much like my insides. My grip on the reins tightened. “What’re you gonna do about it? You’re already the worst possible husband a woman could have.”

That wasn’t exactly true, seeing as Pax was the reigning champion of Worst Husband for this calendar year, but I wanted to hurt him back. To make him feel the way he made me feel.

“By the way, are we going to have sex once a month and pray I get knocked up? How’re we going to do this thing? Please let me know because I’m starting to realize you haven’t thought your genius plan through!”

My voice carried with an echo that ricocheted on the treetops, shaking the ground beneath Hamilton’s hooves.

Hushed murmurs seeped from the parallel trail our friends were taking.

“…my sister!”

“…can hold her own.”

“I swear to God, if he hurts her…”

“She’ll hurt him back. You said it yourself, Belle. She’s not a kid anymore.”