Stabled (The Stables Trilogy #1) by Penny Lam Page A

face. The bed was simple, four poster. It was enormous . She was lying on one side and four people could have fit easily next to her. His linens were white, the comforter a dark green, filled with down. The floor was a rustic pine, but laid diagonally. Two easy chairs in distressed leather in front of a fireplace. A large window hung with white curtains. Simple. Comforting.
     
    He was leaning against the post at the foot of the bed closest to her. Maple saw he looked different; same cowboy style, but the shirt was clean and black. With his black hair and tanned skin, he looked cut from a magazine. J.B. had stubble that was at risk of turning into a beard.
     
    His jeans were designer this time, cut close and slung low on his hips. She’d seen pants like that at Tulane, on the wealthier kids.
     
    “How long have I been sleeping?”
     
    “A little over a day.”
     
    “What happened after the drugs you gave me? I felt almost as bad as when the snake bit me.”
     
    “Serum sickness. The anti-venom makes you sick, but it keeps you from dying. You had an allergic reaction to it, too. Benadryl and sleep and I think you’ll be fine. Just take it easy for a while.” He paused, a dark shadow crossing his face. “Why did you let Bane out?” His voice was soft. It sounded threatening.
     
    She’d forgotten what had started this. Now she remembered that powerful equine body, the feeling of closeness. J.B.’s pose and frown made her defensive.“He can be broken. I wanted to show you that he doesn’t need to be locked up.”
     
    “No, he can’t. He almost killed you. He’s killed before.” J.B.’s voice caught at the last statement.
     
    “That was an accident. It was fine, I promise. Raúl spooked him when he came running up too fast. Bane was letting me pet him. Did Raúl tell you that?”
     
    The silent reply told her what she needed. She pushed. “Bane needs to be out, J.B. Either sell him or let me break him, but keeping him locked up is wrong.”
     
    “My horse, my stable. He stays in his stall. It’s where that monster belongs.” His mismatched eyes were unfocused, seeing some memory long gone.
     
    “But J.B., what you’re doing is cruel--”
     
    Anger flashed across his features, and suddenly he was in her face. “You don’t know how cruel I can be! You don’t know what that fucking horse is !” He was seething, his chest heaving with barely contained rage. “He deserves every bit of punishment he gets! He killed my--”
     
    J.B.’s face blanched and Maple’s suspicions were confirmed. ‘Wife,’ unspoken, hung in the distance between them. J.B. didn’t know Raúl had told her about his dead wife, but he clearly didn’t want her to know now.
     
    Bane. Black as death, larger than life. Maple was torn; she’d seen the sweet side of Bane. It was there, lurking beneath the ebony hide, muscle and sinew. The horse wasn’t inherently evil . Horses weren’t like men; they didn’t hurt on purpose. They didn’t revel in another’s pain. Bane didn’t murder J.B.’s wife.
     
    But the horse had killed.  Raúl had said it and J.B. just confirmed. How much of that was an accident? How much poor handling? Was J.B. right to punish the horse? She couldn’t know the anguish he’d experienced, losing his wife…
     
    “Accidents happen, J.B.,” she muttered, unable to look him in the eye. “A horse is many things, but a murderer is not one of them. You’re taking your anger out on the wrong thing.”
     
    Through gritted teeth, he spoke menacingly. “What do you know about it? Who should I take this anger out on? You?” His laugh was a bark, dark and incredulous. “Please, Maple. You aren’t even half prepared to handle what I need to get out.”
     
    She reeled, deeply lured by his harsh promise. ‘Yes!’ she wanted to scream. ‘Yes, I need it! I need everything you have!’ The allure of being the object J.B. punished with that rage appealed to her so much she could scarcely