They remounted under a sky the color of old iron. The surviving tracks led north into higher, broken ground where the valley walls closed in and the wind funneled hard between the rocks.
The column moved with less talk and tighter spacing. Every rider knew the gap had closed to hours at most.
Elizabeth rode with the damp weight between her legs still present. The constant physical reminder no longer dominated her attention the way it had through the night. The residual lock carried something clearer now.
She could feel the edge of Aiden's focus on the trail, the quiet calculation in the way he scanned the higher ledges, and the steady undercurrent of awareness he kept directed toward her. It was not the sharp hunger of earlier encounters. It felt like presence.
The mess he had left inside her last night still coated her inner thighs. Every shift of the saddle pressed the fabric of her trousers against the sticky skin and pushed a slow trickle of his spend farther down.
