Julian didn't mind the wait. He was only there to accompany Jordan; he hadn't paid for the session and had no real ambition to master the sport.

Jordan looked sheepish about the delay, but since he actually needed to learn for his promotion, he agreed to Julian's logic. If all else failed, they could just share Jordan's horse.

When Samuel led Archer toward the training grounds, he spotted Julian standing alone on the perimeter. Everyone else was mounted.

Julian's expression was a practiced mask of indifference, but Samuel sensed a hidden grievance behind the boy's calm eyes.

"What's the situation?" Samuel asked the coach.

The coach explained the shortage of healthy horses. Samuel understood the priority of equine health, but the sight of Julian being sidelined didn't sit well with him.

"Bring him over," Samuel commanded.

The coach blinked. "Sir?"

"He can use Archer."

On the other side of the arena, Julian watched Jordan struggle with the leather of the noseband and breastplate. Jordan's movements were clumsy, and the horse was being uncooperative.

"Julian, help me with the breastplate," Jordan said. The strap connected to the saddle to keep it from sliding. Julian moved to the far side to buckle the cinch.

"Unbelievable. I thought this club didn't do 'experience' sessions," a sneering voice cut through the air. A boy with a diamond stud in his ear watched them with visible disdain. "Why are influencers here booking shared lessons? They don't even have enough horses for the help."

"We're members," Jordan snapped, his jaw tightening.

The boy rolled his eyes. "Don't get defensive. I wasn't talking to you."

Jordan opened his mouth to retaliate, but the coach intervened, approaching Julian with a respectful bow. "Mr. Hale, Mr. Frost would like you to join him."

Julian looked up. Samuel stood in the center of the training ground, holding the reins of that massive, expensive beast. Man and horse together were a staggering visual of power and poise.

"What does he want?" Julian asked.

"He said you can practice with Archer."

The boy with the earring gawked, his face souring into a mask of disbelief. Jordan grinned, finally finding his footing. "Go on, Jules. Show them."

Julian hesitated. He hated being the center of attention, but he hated the earring-boy more. He gave a sharp nod. "Fine. I'm going."

As Julian approached, the physical presence of the pair hit him like a wall. Samuel was imposing enough on his own, but combined with a seventeen-hand Friesian weighing six hundred kilos, the visual impact was overwhelming.

Friesians were known as "Gentle Giants"—elegant, docile, and majestic. Archer was a purebred silhouette of obsidian muscle, quiet and composed.

Until Julian reached them.

The stallion perked up instantly, nudging Samuel's back with his muzzle as if to push him forward. Samuel stepped aside and handed the reins to Julian.

"Try him."

Julian eyed the horse's teeth with a trace of lingering terror. "He won't bite again, will he?"

"He won't," Samuel promised.

Julian took the reins, his fingers trembling. He reached out to pat the stallion's nose. "Hey there. Don't bite, okay?"

Gulp.

The horse immediately caught Julian's hand in his mouth.

Julian: "..."

Samuel: "..."

"What is happening?" the coach muttered, baffled. "He's perfectly trained. He never mouths people."

Like owner, like horse, Samuel thought, feeling a rare prickle of embarrassment. He reached out and pried the stallion's jaws open. "Let go."

The horse released him with a huff. He looked ready to try again, but the sight of the jumping bat in Samuel's hand made him reconsider. He remained vibrating with energy. As a highly intuitive animal, he could sense his master's desire to perform for this young male—a frequency identical to a stallion courting a mare.

Archer was proud. He liked to show off. He began pawing at the dirt, and Samuel, perfectly synced with the animal, understood the request. Samuel had only brought a jumping bat today, intending to just run the horse, but he adjusted his stance.

Samuel raised the bat. The horse launched his front legs into the air, letting out a piercing, thrilled whinny. It was a classic dressage move—the Pesade—straight out of a Napoleonic painting.

Julian stood rooted to the spot. The horse stood nearly two meters tall on his hind legs, a wall of black muscle looming over him. It was terrifying, yet the animal never touched him. He was a surgical weapon of grace.

The stallion landed and nudged Samuel again, demanding an encore. Samuel gave the command. This time, the horse leaped entirely off the ground.

"Wow!" the children on the sidelines cheered.

Dust billowed as the horse landed. Instead of stopping, the animal lunged toward Julian. Julian shrieked, backing away from those teeth.

"Stop!" Samuel snapped, pulling the reins tight.

The horse didn't just stop. He dropped onto one knee before Julian, performing a classical knight's bow.

Julian stared, his mind a blank static. Who am I? Where am I? Is this a dream? A million-dollar horse had just bowed to him.

"Are you hurt?" Samuel's voice broke the spell.

"No," Julian whispered, his heart still hammering against his ribs.

Jordan ran over, breathless. "Julian, you okay?"

"I'm fine," Julian said. He looked at the Friesian and leaned toward Jordan, whispering, "Maybe I've been single too long. I think I'm finding this horse attractive."

Jordan laughed until he choked. "God, same here."

Samuel's brow furrowed. He watched the two of them whispering. The "pretty boy" was too close. Jordan was thin, weak, and barely tall enough to hold Julian up. The only thing he had was youth. Jordan felt a sudden chill and looked up to find Samuel watching him with a cold, predatory detachment. Samuel turned away without a word.

"He's too high-energy," Samuel told Julian. "I'll work him for a bit."

Samuel vaulted into the saddle. He moved with a natural, elite fluidity. He took the horse through a series of runs, a display of modern equestrianism at its peak. Julian watched, pulse racing. He turned to share the moment with Jordan, but Jordan was already halfway to the parking lot.

"Learn well, Jules!" Jordan shouted from a safe distance. "Don't let your boss down!"

Why was Jordan running? Julian wondered.

When Samuel returned, the real work began. First was the leading. Julian had seen people try to walk cats in his complex; the cats usually just became decorative rugs. He expected the horse to be a struggle, but the animal followed his every tug. Julian moved, the horse moved. Julian stopped, the horse stopped. Julian was stunned that a creature this size could be this intuitive.

Then, the mount. Samuel wasn't a lecturer. He gave a brief instruction and hoisted Julian up. The Friesian felt solid, a steady platform compared to lighter breeds.

"Touch his flanks with your calves," Samuel commanded. "Give the order."

Julian gave a gentle nudge. Nothing.

"Too soft," Samuel said, his voice dropping an octave. "Harder."

Julian's cheeks burned. He applied more pressure. The horse lurched forward. The saddle began to sway, and Julian felt his center of gravity vanish.

"Straighten your back," Samuel coached, his hand a steady presence near Julian's leg. "Sync your rhythm with his. Relax. Let your waist soften."

Julian tried. But the horse transitioned from a walk to a trot. Samuel talked about waves and posting, but Julian was drowning. His waist felt like a rusted hinge.

One lap later, Julian was a wreck. Every muscle ached. The friction against his inner thighs was agonizing, and even his "middle area" was beginning to throb. When Samuel moved to continue the lesson, Julian waved him off and scrambled down. He abandoned the arena and fled toward Jordan's car.

Samuel stood alone with Archer. The stallion was looking longingly at a mare in the next field. Samuel swiped the whip against the horse's hindquarters.

"How could you fail to keep even one person here?"

The horse tossed his mane. Huh?