Taking Possession
Ellis disliked the wealth—the expanse, the grandeur. The land wasn’t necessary for the animals. It existed as proof of Huxley’s power. His dominion. His ownership of a piece of the world.
She was a commoner. A lowly being in comparison. And yet, for his purposes, she had fit.
As she approached the fences that defined the horses’ boundaries, she attempted to shrug off those thoughts.
Ellis would never level the field.
That wasn’t how the world worked.
Still, something tightened inside her every time she looked at the land.
The world order was what it was. She accepted Huxley’s place as she accepted her own. She could live her simple life. Work with the horses. Make their lives better where she could. That was her purpose here.
For the most part, Huxley gave her space. He was always polite, always respectful. When it came to the animals, he deferred readily to her judgement.
Christmas saw her long before she was near.
The mustang began running back and forth along the fence line in anticipation.
A beautiful animal.
A paint with coarse, shaggy fur that resisted every attempt to brush it smooth.
It had not been her intent.
She had first been hired to tame the mustang for Mr. Huxley. And while the beast was now tame, it was so only for her. The animal had attached itself to her.
She loved and hated that.
At first, she feared Huxley would be angry. And indeed, she acknowledged his right to be.
Strangely, it didn’t bother him.
He smiled when she voiced her apology.
“I think, with time, he will still soften to you—accept you. It’s early yet. Mustangs are different from other horses.”
He stepped closer.
“It’s okay, Ellis. I watch you work with the animals. He attached to you. Recognised you.”
His eyes lowered and he shrugged, strangely lost for words for a moment—or perhaps hesitant to say what he thought.
Then:
“He loves you. That’s all.”
“Love’s a strong word.”
“Still…” He looked toward the horse. “That’s what it is. There’s no doubt. You should name him.”
The name Christmas had been her choice.
He was a gift—something coarse and beautiful, spirited and joyous.
Huxley had laughed when she told him.
“You hate it.”
“No.” He shook his head. “It’s perfect. Just unexpected. That’s all.”
Shortly after, things began to change.
Huxley insisted she call him Eli.
He was often present when she worked with the horses. He was a powerful man. The time they spent together filled her with a quiet sense of dread.
Occasionally they rode together.
She rode Christmas. He rotated between his horses. He owned many prize animals, though none seemed to claim his particular favour.
When they rode, the conversation was curated.
It had to be.
They had nothing in common.
In the beginning, she feared he might broach an uncomfortable topic.
He never did.
Instead, he steered the conversation toward safer things: the weather, a section of fence needing repair, a horse’s favourite treat.
Ellis remained shy riding Christmas.
Huxley always deflected, allowing her to work with the animal, allowing Christmas time to acclimate to him.
One day, she voiced her worry.
“Mr. Huxley—”
“Eli, please.”
“Eli, forgive me—Christmas. If I was to leave and he wasn’t trained to accept you, would you get rid of him?”
She paused.
“Because if you would, then I must insist we work to get the two of you accustomed to one another.”
Huxley pulled on his reins, bringing his horse to a full stop.
A shadow crossed his expression.
His hands tightened over the reins, and his horse shook its head nervously against the bit.
“Are you thinking of leaving?”
The words landed heavily between them.
Ellis felt the shift.
She remembered who he was.
The power he held.
Her head lowered under his gaze—
not submission.
Calculation.
“No. But things happen.”
She looked toward Christmas.
“And I care about this animal. This is an excellent home for him. I want to make sure that he stays where he will be well cared for and happy.”
She looked back at him, measuring his response.
Hopeful she had not overstepped the divide between them.
His expression softened.
“I understand. Completely.”
He lowered his hands. The horse calmed and began to nibble at the grass.
“I promise you I’ll always take good care of him. Whether he accepts me or not. You don’t have to worry about that.”
Then he asked:
“Ellis, have dinner with me.”
The request was relaxed.
Almost casual.
Except it wasn’t.
Beneath it was the quiet expectation of only one answer.
Yes.
Despite everything leading up to the request, the answer was clear.
“No. I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
“Why?”
She exhaled.
She considered lying.
Then decided against it.
“Even if we were compatible, I would never fit into your world.”
Her hand gestured toward the estate.
“This is beyond me. It always would be. And just as quickly, I would disappoint you.”
He studied her.
“That’s just not true. We could at least try—”
“No.”
The disbelief in his voice unsettled her.
“No. I wouldn’t be comfortable with that. I’m sorry.”
Silence.
Then he nodded.
A small, calm smile.
“I understand.”
He paused.
“I hope you’ll still work with the horses.”
She was relieved.
“Of course. If that won’t be a problem?”
“Not at all.”
And that had been the last of it.
Or so she thought.
She smiled, relieved. She had expected him to push back, or to become punitive.
Instead, he admired her.
A simple, uncomplicated life.
That was all she wanted.
The dinner invitation had been a formality.
He had already made his decision.
Her refusal had simply removed uncertainty.
Ellis was singular.
Independent.
Wilful.
Admirable.
Confounding.
Like the mustang.
And she was right.
The mustang would accept him in time.
That was not the spirit he was concerned with mastering, however.
A week had passed.
On the surface, everything remained the same.
Huxley watched as Ellis approached the horses. Always on time. Always early. Her posture confident, relaxed. She was a beautiful woman.
Unaware of it.
Strong. Her carriage proud.
Rightfully so.
She went to the stables first, as she always did.
His men closed on her there—more than necessary. Six able-bodied men.
Eli wanted no difficulty.
He wanted her taken in a controlled manner.
No harm.
That was essential.
She left the stables, and they surrounded her.
Loosely at first.
No fear.
Not yet.
Just confusion.
That was worse.
“What’s happened?” she asked.
Sensible.
They remained silent.
Something was wrong.
Too many of them.
Too quiet.
She stepped back.
Hearing footsteps, she turned.
They were behind her as well.
The horses near the fences grew agitated, sensing her alarm. Christmas began to pace rapidly back and forth.
Her eyes shifted toward the animals.
The horses were agitated.
That was wrong.
That mattered.
She stepped toward them before she thought better of it.
“You’re upsetting them,” she said simply.
Silence.
The men remained still as stone.
Her foot shifted, scraping against the ground as though trying to dislodge the tension gathering around her.
He expected this.
She called for him.
“Where’s Mr. Huxley?”
Stepping forward, he kept his voice calm.
There was no reason to aggravate her distress.
That was not his intention.
“I’m here, Ellis.”
“I don’t understand.”
Her eyes moved between him and the men.
“Are you firing me? You want me to leave?”
He had not considered she would interpret this as something so ordinary.
The thought almost amused him.
He stepped slightly forward, his hands settling into his pockets.
He smiled gently.
“Quite the opposite.”
“What?”
“My men are here to take possession of you.”
The words did not make sense.
Possession.
No.
No, that was not what he meant.
She stilled.
Her lips parted slightly as her eyes moved from him to the men surrounding her.
She stepped back.
“I want to leave. Now.”
Her voice lowered.
“Tell them to move aside.”
For a moment, he simply looked at her.
Not at the fear.
At the defiance still holding beneath it.
Admirable.
Breakable.
It would fade.
His smile dimmed.
It was time she began to understand the world he was bringing her into.
“No.”
She fought.
Of course she did.
It was hopeless.
They moved with procedural precision, exactly as instructed.
Once she was held securely, a guard approached with the sedative injection.
“Eli.”
His name.
A plea.
He remained still as he watched.
Pleased with his men’s execution of his orders.
The care taken in her capture.
One guard extended her arm, holding it steady as the needle slid beneath her skin.
“Everything necessary is being taken care of,” he said calmly. “You’re safe.”
She was already sinking.
Her limbs weakened beneath her.
A guard lifted her as Huxley finally approached.
He observed her carefully.
His hand reached out first to check her carotid artery.
The beat was slowed, but steady.
Strong.
Only then did he allow himself to touch her cheek.
Her eyes fought to remain open.
Her pupils drifted as she tried to focus on him.
A tear slipped slowly down her cheek.
He brushed it away.
“Easy, now,” he murmured. “Just rest. There’s nothing left to fight.”
He noticed the residual tension in her fingers as he stepped back.
“The Facility. Dr. Clement is expecting her.”
The guard nodded.
“Keep her sedated for the duration of transport.”
“Yes, sir.”
Huxley would travel there as well.
He wanted to observe the process from beginning to end.
That was important.
His presence would ensure continuity.
Clarity.
Even before she was capable of fully appreciating it.
He would not abandon her.
Never that.
