Page 25 of Horsemen and Hot Chocolate

Towering trees loomed overhead, their shadows pressing down on her. Dense brush scratched at her clothes, and a flock of birds screeched and fled to the skies when she passed. Her slippers rubbed against the sensitive flesh of her heels, and each breath ached like fire in her lungs as she ran. But the pain dulled under the pounding truths rattling her heart.

Her father was dying.

The fate of their family estate lay in her hands.

And she must marry a man she did not love to secure it.

She’d run from her fate for months, and still, she continued to run. Soon, there would be nowhere left to flee. A wave of hot, fresh tears streamed down her cheeks—the frigid breeze bit at the moisture, stinging her skin.

There was still one person she could find solace in.

Katrina stumbled before the dense wall of brush the Horseman had led her to a few nights ago, her hands tangling in the leaves to find the entrance. When she pressed against a patch of vines, she lurched forward. Darkness enveloped her as she staggered between the trees until she faltered at the clearing.

Sunlight poured onto the decrepit cabin. She noted the cracks and splinters against the logs during the day. Fallen leaves and moss carpeted the caved-in roof, and she wondered how the rest hadn’t yet fallen on top of the Horseman. Behind the cabin, Inferno grazed around the perimeter of the clearing.

Katrina’s pulse roared in her ears as she approached the door. If Inferno were here, the Horseman must also be home unless he traveled without his horse. Would she disturb him by coming here unannounced?

Before she could doubt herself any longer, she raised her fist and knocked on the door. A spell of silence followed the echo of her knock. A minute passed, and then another, until movement sounded from the other side. Metal whined from a scabbard, and she imagined he pulled out his sword in defense.

“Hello?” she called out, her voice cracking. She hoped to put him at ease by confirming her identity. “Horseman?”

Footsteps marched to the door before it swung open. The Horseman’s solid chest bumped into her nose, and she stepped back. The pumpkin perched on his neck, and his triangular eyes grew.

“I—” she started, suddenly uncertain. The words lodged in her throat as she swallowed.

The slits he had for brows pinched together. “Katrina?”

“You’re here,” she settled in a whisper. “I’m so relieved.” Tears fell from her eyes, obscuring her vision.

A hand warmed her face, and her throat clenched tighter.

“Did something happen?” he asked, his deep voice rumbling with concern. Then it darkened. “Did someone hurt you?”

“No, no,” she said between gasps. “Everything is crashing down—I—” A sob poured from her chest like a broken dam. Her body trembled with each shuddering breath. The ache grew in her chest until she thought it might burst. Stumbling forward, she burrowed her face into the Horseman’s chest, her fingers curling into his white shirt.

Every one of his muscles stiffened beneath her. His arms hovered at his sides, his fingers twitching midair as if torn between embracing her. But as her shoulders shook and her tears stained his shirt, his arms came up, clumsy and hesitant. One hand floated over the middle of her back while the other wrapped around her shoulders. His touch was as light as a feather, uncertain and unsteady, as though he were frightened of breaking her. Then, slowly, he applied more pressure until he pulled her in closer.

The heat of his body seeped into her, enveloping her like a strong fortress protecting her against a raging storm. She instinctively sagged into him as she wept.

Then her breath choked on her sob. Something sounded against her ear—something growing louder. She thought she had imagined it, but she could not deny the erratic drumming of a heartbeat echoing in his chest. Her fingers twitched over the spot to confirm the impossible.

He had a heart.

“You—” she started, tilting her chin upward to meet his concerned expression. The rest of her words would not come, unsure what to do about the revelation. Perhaps she had been wrong about his ghostliness or misunderstood the biology of ghosts altogether.

Leaning back against his chest, she sighed. Her insides felt hollow and raw all at once. The crinkle between her brows ached as she cried, but she knew her tears were not yet spent.

“My father is dying,” she finally said. “He could have weeks, months, or years; we do not know. I knew this day would come, but the unknown is frightening. That is why my parents wish for me to marry. But… I don’t want to.”

Another tear ran down her face. She knew she sounded petulant, especially in the face of such devastating news, but she knew the Horseman would understand. He would not judge.

“What do you want?” he murmured.

Her heart gave a strange lurch. No one asked what she wanted, yet he did—this nameless Horseman.

“I want to choose my suitor,” she said against him. “I want to choose someone who listens and accepts me as I am. I want love, but I know that will never happen.”

“What if it could?” he asked.