him, and now he knows that I tried to defy him too.
“Apparently, I approved these plans of yours.”
This is why I have a rule against lying. It’s so easy to get caught.
I open my eyes and defiantly raise my chin.
He walks up to me, each footfall ominous. War steps in close—far too close. “Don’t ever use me in a lie again,” he says, his voice low.
I hear the unspoken threat in his words.
Or else I will punish you.
And I’ve now seen War’s justice. It’s every bit as terrifying as I could imagine.
The horseman’s eyes search my face. “You’re going to be trouble, aren’t you, wife?” He studies me some more. “Yes, definitely trouble,” he says to himself.
War removes the last of the space between us, his leather armor brushing against my chest. He’s close enough for me to see the gold flecks in his eyes. Those eyes are terrifying. Beautiful and terrifying.
“You’re wrong if you think that angers me.” His smile is menacing. “Everything you are has been made for me.”
This arrogant bastard. I bet he thinks all humans were created for his entertainment. To fight, to fuck, to kill.
The horseman reaches out and draws a finger over my collarbone, his gaze never leaving mine.
“I saw you, and for the first time, I wanted.”
His words pucker my flesh.
“And so, I took.”
Chapter 7
War’s touch pauses on my skin. “To think you almost got away.” He backs away then, reaching for his vambrace, his fingers unlacing the arm guard. “It’s a good thing you didn’t.”
He’s well and truly inhuman. Nothing of this earth could frighten me the way he does.
I’ve now tried to escape the horseman twice within that many days—once through death and once through desertion. If he’s just as merciless as he’s made himself seem, then my actions will have consequences.
“Can you really make weapons?” he asks.
I pause, unsure where he’s going with this.
“I’m not very good at it,” I say after a moment.
He glances up. “Is that a yes?”
Reluctantly, I nod.
War’s gaze drops to my lips. “Good. Then you will make my army these weapons I commissioned.”
Another fucking reason why I should never, ever break Rule Two and lie. Because now I have the job I made up only hours ago.
“I can’t make anything without my tools,” I say. “And those are back in my flat.”
War stares at me for several moments, perhaps trying to figure out whether I’m lying again. “Where did you live?”
Did. Past tense.
I stare at the horseman as that sinks in. As far as he’s concerned, my house is a thing of the past; this tented city is my home now.
After a moment’s hesitation, I rattle off my address. I normally wouldn’t give it out, but … if War’s seriously suggesting that he’ll get my tools for me, then I’ll take him up on it. After all, I’m being watched too closely to escape this place anytime soon.
“Can I go now?”
War’s searching gaze is back on me. He takes me in for several seconds, then redirects his attention to removing his armor.
“You don’t believe in God, do you?” he says.
Guess I don’t get to leave yet.
In spite of myself I raise my eyebrows. “Why do you ask?”
The corner of his mouth lifts, like the answer is some inside joke that I wouldn’t get. “It’s curious.”
“Why is it curious?”
War’s eyes move back to mine. “Come closer and I’ll tell you.”
He dangles the answer like bait.
I take a single step towards him.
Again, that smile, only this time it appears a little less humorous, a little more dangerous.
“Cowardice doesn’t suit you, wife.”
“I am not a coward,” I say from my safe distance away from him.
His dark gaze is weighty on mine. “Then prove it.”
Be brave.
I haltingly close the distance between us, until I can smell the sweat and dust clinging to him.
“Not a coward after all.” The horseman scrutinizes me. “As for your question—it’s curious that you don’t believe in God when I exist.”
“Why should that be strange? You aren’t God.”
I believe War is a supernatural entity. It’s everything else that I find hard to believe.
The horseman is completely unfazed by my words and the challenge in them.
“I’m not,” he agrees.
The horseman breaks eye contact to remove a greave, and I exhale sharply at the loss of that gaze on me. I don’t know why it feels like a loss; every time his eyes fall on me, I tremble like a leaf.
“I believe in God,” I say. “I just don’t believe in your God.”
My mother was Jewish, my