War (The Four Horsemen #2) - Laura Thalassa Page 0,122

been?” War asks, breaking off the kiss. But it’s not really a question. His dead have been guarding me all day; War must’ve had some idea where they were—and thus where I was. Which was in the women’s quarters.

“Do you love me?” I ask him.

War’s brow furrows, his dark eyes moving between mine. He’s so severely handsome.

His hand goes to the juncture where my shoulder meets my neck, and gently, he squeezes.

“Do you?” I echo.

“Can you really not tell?” he says, so quietly I almost don’t hear him.

I take in a shuddering breath. “Then stop the killing,” I say. “Please. That’s all I ask of you.”

“You are asking me to give up everything.” War actually looks pained at the thought of ending the killing.

He is battle incarnate. I might be asking him to do more than stop a simple habit. I might be asking him to deny the core part of himself.

“Please—”

His expression hardens. “No.” His tone is absolute, unbending.

I knew he wouldn’t capitulate. I knew it and yet it breaks my heart all over again.

Without another word I leave him, his large hand slipping from my shoulder. I cut through the swarming bodies, my nostrils stinging with the smell of sweat and rot that seem to stifle the area. My guards swarm around me.

I’ve made a lot of consolations with War. So many.

Too many.

Be brave.

There’s nowhere to go. Nowhere to escape these horrors. I don’t even have my own tent. I want to scream.

I consider leaving the camp entirely—not that it would work, but I still consider it. I glance at my thumb, where the morning’s cut has healed over. Leaving would be foolish anyway; I already made plans for tonight.

I head back to War’s tent, the only place my zombie guards won’t follow me. When I enter, my eyes sweep over the space. There’s still no weapons inside, including my arrows.

Behind me I hear the tent flaps thrown open.

“What was that?” War’s voice is low and menacing.

My eyes widen. I didn’t actually think he’d leave the revelry early. He never does.

I turn around as he stalks towards me.

“You want to be with me, but you are unwilling to actually make any sacrifices,” I say. I’m ready to pick back up right where we left off.

War steps in close. “I am not here to make sacrifices, Miriam. I am here to take. Whatever human notions you have regarding relationships, cast them aside; they will not apply to us.”

My anger from last night is back, and it burns so hot that I’m all but shaking with it. The horseman is still challenging me with his eyes.

Then I leave. I leave and I spend the rest of what will undoubtedly be a short life working to forget you.

I bite back the words.

Instead, I push his chest. His body barely sways.

The horseman smiles darkly at me. “Even defeated, you have such fire in you. I have seen villages that burn less brightly.”

I push him again … and again and again. I don’t stop until he catches my wrists.

He reels me in, and then he kisses me, his lips fierce and unforgiving. This is the War I remember. He’s all power and possession.

I fall into the kiss, trying not to think about anything beyond moving my lips. It’s hard to kiss him, hard to dance this line between desire and anger.

He’s an inferno—his mouth hot on mine, his deft fingers pulling at my clothing.

War tosses me onto the pallet, then kneels between my legs. “There are a few sacrifices I can make.”

He unbuttons my pants and pulls them and my panties off, taking my shoes and socks along with them. And then his mouth descends on my core.

I thread my fingers into his hair, gripping his dark locks tight enough to hurt. I tilt his head up to face me. “I don’t want to see what you can give me,” I say, still angry—so very, very angry. “Show me the benefits of taking.”

With a wicked smile, he does.

I wait until War’s asleep.

You’d think an immortal like him—one who supposedly doesn’t need rest—would learn to stay awake, living with a woman like me. But he hasn’t learned to—yet. To be fair, I did everything in my power to make sure he fell asleep this evening.

Now I carefully disentangle myself from him, getting up to slip on my clothing and shoes.

I head across the room and quietly open one of War’s chests. Inside, nestled amongst the horseman’s things, is some rope I discovered earlier. Quietly,