Bride of the Frontier (The Prophecy of Sisters Book 3)

a shade tree, I would cuddle up next to a cactus right about now if I thought that it would save me from being burned and possibly adding melanoma to my future. But there’s nothing, nothing but rocks and dirt everywhere.
I continue to walk for an undetermined amount of time, toward nothing but more desert. My feet start to shuffle and I realize that the cute flat sandals that I once adored are actually starting to melt with each step that I take.
Dropping my head, I try to shield myself from the sun’s harsh rays as I shuffle forward, unsure of where I will land and when my body will finally give out.
All I can do is think about Sybilla and Liv and wonder if they somehow suffered this same fate? Maybe I was kidnapped and drugged, left out here to die, and the same thing happened to me as it did them?
There is a noise in the distance and I lift my head. There’s a man riding a horse toward me, and I let out a little laugh. This is unreal and I know that I must be close to death and hallucinating. My knees give out first, then my torso falls forward before everything goes completely dark.
My eyes start to move from side to side and I hear voices far away in the background. I try to force myself to open my eyelids, hoping that I’m home in my own house, but something seems off.
Inhaling, I almost cough, because this place smells nothing like home. There is an overwhelming scent of sage surrounding me. It’s an odd scent and I’m not even sure how I identify it, but that’s what it is.
Opening my eyes, I look around, then forward and I find myself staring at someone dressed up in a wild west cowboy getup and I’m in a fucking bed—not my own fucking bed either.
Parting my lips, I sit straight up, and I let out a scream. The man’s eyes widen and there is a woman next to me who reaches out and wraps her palm against my mouth to muffle the sounds until I stop.
“Are you calm, yet?” the man in front of me calmly asks.
His voice is deep, husky, and very gruff. I shake my head from side to side, because honestly, I don’t think I’m calm, not judging by the way my heart is slamming against my ribs. I kind of expect it to flop out onto my lap.
His lips curve up into a grin and he leans forward slightly. “Are you a witch?” he asks softly.
My brows snap together and I shake my head once. “No,” I say against the woman’s palm.
She releases my mouth, slowly, hesitantly, but I don’t scream. Instead, I can’t take my eyes off of this man in front of me. I watch him, wondering why he thinks I am a witch. And who is a witch these days anyway? That just sounds weird. I mean, I’m sure there are witches, but who would think to even ask that?
“What are you? A soiled dove on the run?”
Tilting my head to the side, I don’t speak right away. “What is a soiled dove?” I ask.
The woman next to me lets out a huff, and the man in front of me, he chuckles. “A bordello girl, a woman who works in a house of ill repute, a soiled dove.”
I know that he’s trying to explain what a soiled dove is to me and he’s being cute, but the way he smiles, his green eyes bright and sparkling as he watches me, it’s hot as shit. Actually… now that I look at him, he’s hot as shit.
He has what looks like dark brown curly hair that hangs just past his collar and brushes his shoulders. He has bright green eyes and he’s tall, wide-shouldered and slim-waisted. Plus, he has some serious stubble and boy, oh boy, his jaw is chiseled and sexy.
I stare at him, not answering his question, because honestly, I still don’t understand it. Plus, I’m too busy ogling his sexiness, although I know that I should be thinking of other things, like how to escape this place and wondering why he’s dressed like an old west cowboy.
It’s weird.
“A woman who accepts money in exchange for her body,” he states, explaining it further and my head jerks back.
“Are you asking me if I’m a hooker?”
He arches a brow, his eyes still sparkling as he continues to watch me.
“I have never sold myself for money. What kind of person asks a stranger that? Oh my god, you’re crazy. I mean, one time I did it with this guy that I was going to break up with, but he took me out to this fancy steak dinner and bought dessert, I felt obligated, but I broke it off with him the next day. Oh my god, does that mean I’m a hooker?” I ramble with a gasp.
His brows snap together and the smile disappears from his lips. He turns his head to the side and starts to talk with a quiet man who is standing against the wall. He’s tall and thin with gray hair and he looks like he’s kind of been through hell in his life, but he’s surviving even though he kind of appears as though he’s doing it with a stick up his ass.
“I understood her, but I did not understand her,” the sexy stranger says to the man.
“I can say with all honesty, sir. I have no idea what came out of her mouth and how it did so, so quickly,” he says, dryly, just as I expected he’d talk—with a stick up his ass.
Sexy stranger turns to me, a frown on his sexy lips. “When you’ve rested, I will see you in my parlor. It’s directly across from here, and Miss Martha will bring you to me.”
He doesn’t say another word and doesn’t allow me to speak either, instead, he turns and walks out of the room,