Tethered (A Dark Erotic Romance)(Book 2) (The Stables Trilogy)

by Penny Lam

  Gus’s jaw dropped and even Tony stopped howling for a moment to stare.

  Her own face jerked up. J.B. wasn’t looking at her. The words were there. They’d been spoken. Five million dollars to save her. Her heart should be bursting. Trumpets should be sounding. Her body should be infused with the knowledge that he truly cared for her.

  But she could feel it. A divide too insurmountable to cross. A chasm wrenching between them. J.B. had saved her from jail, or something much worse with Gus, but his refusal to look at her, to say anything to her… it spoke volumes.

  “I’m your friend, not an accountant.”

  But Reece was already putting the gun away. J.B. crossed the stall and slid the bit from her mouth. His thumb brushed away the blood from where the corners of her mouth had split. He scooped Maple up. Despite feeling his rage burn through, her skin imagining the heat of his bitter disappointment in her, she clung to him. Her fingers clasped his shirt tightly, and she buried her face in his chest.

  His body heat suffused her, and as the shock and horror of the situation wore off, her eyelids grew heavy, and there was glass behind her eyes.

  Maple had suffered before, and this shouldn’t have been different. It was, though. She’d been stronger than before. More sure of herself. Gus and Tony had fractured that to pieces. Any reserves she’d maintained were decimated.

  Her body hurt in ways it hadn’t in a long time. Her heart hurt more. Maple shut her eyes and decided forgetting, even for a little while, was all she could handle.

  The rattle of the trailer woke her. Maple leaned in the passenger seat of the truck. Despite a rolled blanket that had been used to support her head, her neck twinged in discomfort. The spiky and sparse plants of West Texas flew before her gaze.

  She knuckled the sleep from her eyes and sat up, groaning.

  “How long did I sleep?”

  “Long enough, I reckon, if you’re awake.” His rasp was soft. Cold? The yoke of exhaustion was lifting from her shoulders. It cleared her mind, and that wasn’t a good thing. Maple’s joints creaked and ached from having been tied and hung. The throb in her ribs and stomach as she shifted in her seat made her wince.

  The worst injury, perhaps, was the gentle ache between her legs. It was the ache of an orgasm wrenched from her. Stolen, really, by Gus and Tony. Tony’d always had her number, especially at the end. He’d molded her like potter’s clay into what she was today.

  That orgasm was seared into her memory. Maybe even into her soul. It was her ultimate betrayal. It was Lilith’s mark on her skin; a tattoo on her bones that read you’ll never be good enough for him.

  J.B. had accepted her, flawed and wanting. In return, it had taken less than twenty-four hours to come for another man.

  Her gaze peeled away from him, moving to her feet. She didn’t deserve to even look at him.

  “I’m so sorry,” she choked out, picking at her fingernails and trying to prepare for the verbal assault she had coming.

  Strained, he asked “What the hell for?”

  “For Tony. For not telling you about me, I guess. What I’d done.”

  “You were running.” Statement, not question.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “I was running.”

  “He’s an ex.”

  “Yes.”

  “Did he hurt you?” The threat in J.B.’s voice wasn’t disguised. He’d paid off Gus and Tony, but she suspected if she were to play it up, J.B. might turn the truck around and lay some serious hurt on them.

  “I let him. I asked him to.” The words felt like marbles in her mouth, cold and foreign. Something to be spit out.

  They drove in silence for a while. It was smothering. Maple had more apologies she felt she should make, and even more questions. But she wasn’t in a position to ask for anything, especially not forgiveness.

  When she couldn’t take it, she blurted, “Thank you for saving me. You shouldn’t have.”

  The truck slowed but didn’t pull to the side. She dared a glance at his hands. They were gripping the wheel so tight his knuckles threatened to split from under the skin. “Why shouldn’t I have?”

  “Five million dollars was too much. I deserved their anger.”

  The leather groaned in protest as his hold on the wheel tightened more. “Five million was exorbitant, but it wasn’t too much.”

  His words cut her. He was being nice-- too nice. She knew he couldn’t mean it. Five million was more than she’d ever make in five lifetimes, and he’d just signed it over and driven away.

  “But--” she wanted to protest but couldn’t. Especially as it crossed her mind that he hadn’t said she didn’t deserve their anger. That meant he agreed with her. She felt sick.

  “Look,” he sighed. “It was just under how much I made with the girls this trip. So don’t feel guilty about the money. You helped with those sales.”

  Oh! The girls! “They’re all gone?” Maple whipped to look back at the trailer. Silly, because she couldn’t see into it. Stupid, because her neck was still stiff from sleeping in the car.

  “Yep.”

  Her heart lurched a little, and she realized she’d miss them. There hadn’t been a chance to say goodbye. No real words had been exchanged, but she’d cared for them in such a small, intimate setting. They felt a little like family. Now they were gone.

  Maple knew she didn’t deserve happiness. Fate had proven that. But she hoped with all her heart that they found it with their new Masters.

  She hadn’t understood until then how much money J.B. made from his pony training alone. He’d made enough in one six month period to pay off Gus and Tony. It was completely separate from the millions of dollars that came in each year from his cattle ranching. Her mind swam with the numbers.

  “I’m glad,” she sighed.

  J.B. seemed to feel no need to continue any conversation. Trying to gauge how he felt about the situation was like pulling teeth. Her nerves were fraying, slowly, unwound by the gnawing anxiety she felt.

  She was so indebted to this man. He’d saved her from the bite, from Reece, and now from Tony and Gus. It grated on her that she had nothing to offer but her body, and that seemed a poor gift indeed. It was too used. Too stained.

  How could a job make her feel so strong, yet weaker than ever? Working the stables had bolstered Maple. Her body was stronger. She’d gained confidence. Working with the horses was her element.

  Yet she was constantly distraught. In peril. It reminded her of the heroine of her favorite book. At least the heroine had some endearing characteristics. Maple was certain she was lacking there, too.

  “What is the most a pony has ever sold for?” This was venturing into murky waters, but asking aloud helped her idea form more coherently.

  J.B. hesitated, “Maple--”

  “How much?”

  “I’ve seen one sell for ten million dollars.”

  Jesus. So many zeroes. “W-what made her worth so much money?”

  He frowned. Not a small one, but a full-face, every line wrinkled in concern frown. “It doesn’t matter.”

  Maple tried a trick from J.B.’s own book and pressed him with a stare. It worked.

  “She consented to twenty-four seven pony status for life. No hopes of marriage, or of being a consort. She agreed to never speak again, Maple. To live in restraints for the rest of her life. To be ridden, and bred, and trained. No breaks, no down time. She agreed to be branded.”

  Maple thought back to the odd mark on Yvonne’s shoulder. “Like Yvonne is?”

  J.B. nodded. “Yes. Like Yvonne, though she let Micah brand her out of love. He doesn’t expect her to be a pony all of the time, as you saw. Maple, a life-long commitment like that isn’t right. From a contractual standpoint, it was legal. She agreed and signed and her Master paid. But--” he cut himself off, bitterness coating the words.

  “Why do you think she agreed? Why do any of them agree to it? I mean, I saw Yvonne and she seemed happy, but how could she have been certain of the outcome?
Is it truly just about money?”

  “No. They want change, Maple. Not just the security and protection, though that’s a large part. Anyone could strike a deal for that, I’m sure. The women who approach me want to change themselves from the core out.”

  This resonated deeply. It ate at her to admit that her body had orgasmed for her attackers. How in the club countless men had brought her to release despite her internal protests. Something was wrong with her. It was deep, practically written in her DNA. J.B. made it sound as if there was a way to cure the sickness inside of her.

  “Why do you do it?” She whispered.

  This was the question all else hinged on. Maple had to do something different. Be something different. She couldn’t face her past head on; that had happened at the show and it had ended in her hurt and humiliation. But she couldn’t keep running and hiding, either. She wanted to change, and she wanted J.B. to help change her.

  “I do it--” His voice hitched. J.B. was watching the road but not truly seeing it. His hands relaxed on the wheel and for a second she thought she saw his chest shudder. A suppressed sob? “I do it for personal reasons, Maple.”

  Door slammed shut. Back to his old ways. There was comfort to be found in habit, she knew, but it didn’t soften the blow.

  What Maple had been hoping for was the chance that he could change her… but also still love her. Maybe more so, if he let her be his prized pony. She could be the Yvonne to his Micah. Maple felt sure that, despite his reluctance, things would be different with her.

  Maple needed the largest possible reward. Cosmically large. She needed her very nature altered at its root. Great reward only came with monumental risk.

  “I don’t have much, J.B. Just the money in the bank, a little over twenty thousand. It’s yours, just train me. Let me in the stable.”

  He hissed, and the truck swerved a little, trailer squealing in protest behind. Maple’s hand gripped her door, her insides shifting and correcting with the truck.

  “No,” he swore.

  “Why?” The plaintive plea in her voice was pathetic, but she reached across and placed her hand on his thigh. She couldn’t help but notice his cock leaping to life in his pants at her touch. Hope sparkled a little more. When he failed to reply, she pushed harder. “Is it Rachel? Because she was… she was into it?”

  Maple had always known this. J.B. had said he’d been training and selling for years, but Rachel’s memory was so fresh she couldn’t have been dead for that long. If J.B. trained her, she knew she could never replace his lost wife. She didn’t want to.

  But maybe they could grow stronger together. Support each other as Master and pet.

  “I’m not going to talk about her or that with you,” he spat. His face was pale. His hurt bubbled below the surface.

  It was as much a confirmation as a yes. Maple wondered what Rachel had looked like. Whether J.B. had let her live in the stable as a pony. Whether he tailed and groomed her with gentle touches or the indifference her showed the others. Maple guessed it was the former.

  The setting sun colored his face in reds and oranges. It illuminated each line and wrinkle. Too many for a man as young as he. They were words, telling the story of his grief, his passion, his worry. She wanted to kiss each one.

  It came as a wave in the dusk-washed cab, this need to help him, too. She’d pictured herself a martyr before, but if she was calling it as it was-- Maple was not only broken. She was selfish. She’d been looking to J.B. for his love, for his answers, and for confirmation that she was worthless. He wasn’t in a place to give her the first two, but he wasn’t willing to do the latter.

  Maybe that’s how she knew she could love him. It was certainly what inspired her to want to give to him. Her service. Her absolute, undying devotion. Her body and mind. She wanted to be his everything.

  Reaching behind her neck, she unhooked her necklace and held it out. He released the wheel just long enough to grab it and throw her a look of distrust.

  “That’s all I have, really. That and the money. An old book if you really want it. You know my past, even though I’d give anything for that not to be the case. You know that I’ve--” she chewed her lip, preparing, “--that I’ve been hurt before. Badly. It didn’t scar me. It brought my own deficiencies to light. The things I crave are awful, they just took advantage of it.”

  “You didn’t deserve that, Maple! I shouldn’t have paid them off. I should have let Reece shoot them like the dirt they were.”

  “That would mean jail for all of us,” Maple sighed, unwilling to be deterred. “Those men deserve a lot of bad, but so do I. Because I liked the hurt.” An involuntary shiver. “I liked it. Alot.”

  “Take your necklace back, Maple.”

  “Train me, J.B. Let me in the stable and train me.”

  “You don’t know what you’re asking!” His jaw clenched so hard she heard the teeth grinding with his turmoil.

  She scooted closer and leaned in to kiss his scruffy cheek. His skin was warm and dry under her lips. “I’m begging you to help me change. Please.” A tear fell, dripping from her chin. It caught on the neck of his shirt, blossoming.

  “If I do accept, Maple, then we can’t be together. I don’t touch the ponies that way.” He sucked in air between his teeth, like he was savoring this last moment while she was still just an employee. The end was coming. She felt it. “If I let you in, I’ll sell you. To someone else. Is that what you want?”

  “I don’t think you will. I want you to change me, J.B. I want us to change together.”

  “That’s not how it works, goddamnit!” He shook his head hard, trying to convince both of them. “I never connect with a pony that way. It is a rule, Maple. A promise I make, each and every time.”

  “Well, we’ll have to see, then. You’ve given me more chances than I deserve. I’m willful and disobedient, and you were still willing to pay five million dollars to save me. So I don’t think you’ll sell me. But I’m willing to take the risk if it means I can stop being the girl I am. Because I’ll die if I keep going down this road.” She meant it, too. She didn’t think she’d be killed by Gus, but the loathing she had for herself had turned into a monster. It was eating her from the inside out. She might go on living, but she’d be hollow. Pathetic.

  Maple didn’t want to be sold. This was the risk. A huge one. Her sacrifice.

  Yet she knew that, once she began to change with his instruction, that he’d see her more clearly. That she’d earn the right to approach him as a lover. As an equal. Not just a young, fucked up leftover. Not a tainted little girl.

  A strong woman. A confident pony.

  She was also just as sure that if he could see that she wasn’t trying to erase his dead wife, he could heal a bit with her. Come to love her, even.

  “Fine,” he relented. He shifted, letting her know her closeness and touch were no longer welcome. Maple let it roll off her back. She knew what she’d signed up for. It was up to her to prove herself.

  She knew J.B. wasn’t allowing himself to think of her as his pony because of Rachel. It made her heart hurt for him. She understood. How could he consider filling that role with anyone but his first wife?

  Maple was determined to show that she wasn’t trying to move in and replace Rachel. But J.B. needed healing as much as she did.

  They both needed change.

  The sun was blazing as he tore down 85 to get home. Despite the freezing temperatures, Maple rolled down her window.

  Sticking her face out, she let the brisk, icy wind scour her tears.

  There wasn’t a need to build any more walls.

  The sky was mammoth and open, a daunting invitation.

  Change was on her horizon.

  Epilogue

  There is a room behind a locked door.

  It’s down the hall. No one pays it much mind, not when there is the bedroom, the office, and the art room to compete with. Those rooms get used. This room was purposefully forgotten.

  Inside
isn’t much. A wardrobe with clothing that will never be worn again. A hair brush with raven hairs still wound loose between bristles. Two rings. The diamond on one’s sparkle was hidden beneath a layer of dust. It’s size was envied by none, since none viewed it. When it had been worn?

  The jealousy had burned.

  Some old boots, caked in older dirt. A wedding dress, asleep in its protective bag.

  And hanging on the wall in this room behind a locked door is a painting. A large portrait.

  It shows a lady in riding boots, her shapely thighs bursting above them. A narrow waist and plump breasts. Inky black hair falls in curls down her shoulders, toppling down her front. She’s tall and slim and breathtakingly beautiful.