War (The Four Horsemen #2) - Laura Thalassa Page 0,131
he seemed to have written me off completely. My wounded ego can only take so much bruising.
“If only.” I look away from him.
At my side, War stills. He takes my chin and turns my face, forcing me to stare him in the eye. “What do you mean by that?” he demands.
“Isn’t it obvious?” I say miserably, half aware that Zara can probably hear every single word. Oh well.
“Speak plainly, Miriam,” War says, his features sharp and his gaze intense, hopeful.
Am I really going to do this? Shit, I think I am. I’m too exhausted to pretend away the truth.
“I care about you, War,” I admit. “More than I want to—much more. It’s been hell, not seeing you.”
War stares at me for a long minute, and then he smiles so big it seems to reach every corner of his face. It’s still a ferocious look on him with his sharp canines—not even happiness makes him look less dangerous—but my heart skips a beat at that smile.
“I’ve missed you too, wife. More than I have words to express.”
I flash him a shy grin of my own. Right now, he’s making me forget that I feel like roadkill.
“I’m still angry with you,” I admit.
“And I’m furious that you tried to gut me—with my own sword no less.”
I think it’s that last part that really got to him.
He leans in. “But from my wife,” he adds, “I expected no less.” The horseman leans down then and kisses me.
I’m tired and sick, but there is nothing, nothing in the world that could stop me from kissing the shit out of this man. He is the one thing that still manages to taste good. His lips devour mine, and his arms pull me in close.
The two of us make out for a long, long time. Eventually, War breaks away to slide his hands under my body.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
He lifts me up. “I’m taking you home.”
Chapter 47
Now that War has kept his zombies at bay, I find I’m hungry. Very, very hungry. As soon as I see the platter of fruits, nuts, cheeses and breads laid out, I descend upon it. There’s a bowl of hummus nearby, and I’m not sure I’ve ever tasted anything so good in my life.
“You have an appetite?” War asks, coming to my side.
He looks upsettingly eager at the thought.
I guess it’s been more than just meat that I’ve been turning down lately.
“I don’t know, this hummus just tastes really good.”
Immediately, War strides out of the tent long enough for me to hear him barking out orders for more hummus.
War comes back inside. Grabbing a nearby pitcher, he fills up a glass of water.
“I’m going to bring a doctor over,” he says, handing the water to me.
“No,” I say too quickly, grabbing the warlord’s forearm. I accidentally smear a little hummus on it in the process. Whoops.
His brows come together as he stares at my grip on his arm.
His eyes rise to mine, and he looks suspicious. “What are you not telling me, wife?”
I shake my head. “I just don’t like doctors.”
Is that really it though? There’s been a ball of worry in the pit of my stomach. Something isn’t right, but I don’t really want to know what that something is. Not yet. This all might simply resolve itself.
“Sometimes, Miriam, we must endure things we do not enjoy. I’m sending for a doctor.”
“Please don’t, War,” I say. “It’s just the flu. Humans get it all the time. It’ll be gone in a few days.”
Just then, one of the horsemen’s men comes in with more hummus.
The rider sets the platter down on War’s table, then leaves.
“Your body is sick, wife. Don’t pretend otherwise. I should have been more vigilant with you because it’s clear you’re not eating as you should. And I know you’ve been more fatigued than usual lately.”
He’s noticed? I should probably be concerned that he’s been somehow keeping tabs on me, but instead I’m oddly touched that he’s been so aware of my existence.
I’m fucked in the head.
War continues. “And that’s not to mention the fact that only this morning you were physically sick.”
“I feel better now.” Sort of. I mean, I’m still nauseous, and the sweltering heat today is doing nothing to help it, but still, I feel well enough to eat and move around a little.
The horseman gives me a long-suffering look. “We may have been apart for some time, wife, but make no mistake, I won’t let you die. Not by the blade