War (The Four Horsemen #2) - Laura Thalassa Page 0,6

his leather armor. Without looking away from me, he grabs the arrowhead and yanks it out. It comes away bloody, and I have a moment of pride, knowing that my weapon made it past his armor.

I reach behind me for another arrow, nock it, and let it fly. This one bounces harmlessly off of him, the angle of the hit all wrong.

And now I’m out of distance.

I only have time for one more shot before I need to switch weapons. I grab a final arrow, aim it, and release.

It goes hopelessly wide.

I drop my bow and quiver, my carefully collected arrows now spilling across the ground. My hand goes for one of my daggers.

No match for that beast of a sword. I take another look at War’s enormous muscles, and there’s just no chance of me winning this.

I swallow.

I’m going to die.

My hand tightens on my blade. I have to at least try to stop him.

I begin to move, trying to place my back to the sun. War closes the last of the distance between us, not bothering to outmaneuver me. He doesn’t need any sort of advantage to cut me down, we both know it. And if the sun is irritating to him, he shows no sign of it.

That’s about the moment when I realize that this isn’t actually going to be a fight. This is a lion swatting a mouse aside.

Must’ve really pissed him off earlier.

War lifts his sword, the sun making the blade shine blindingly bright.

With one pounding sweep of his arm, War’s terrifying blade connects with my own much smaller one, knocking it out of my hand. I cry out at the impact; the force of the blow numbs my arms and drives me to my knees.

I reach for my other blade, unholstering it. When the horseman steps forward, I swipe out at him, catching him in the calf.

A line of blood wells from the wound. For an instant, I stare at it dumbly.

Holy balls, I actually clipped him.

War glances at the wound then his eyes move to me, and he laughs low and deep, the sound drawing out goosebumps along my skin.

This fucker is downright terrifying.

I scramble backwards, dagger clutched in hand, trying to get away from him as fast as possible. The horseman leisurely strolls after me, looking mildly entertained.

I manage to get my feet under me and pull myself up.

Run, my mother’s voice commands, but I’m petrified of turning my back on this man. I’d like to look death in the eye when it’s delivered.

War steps forward and swings his blade again and I raise my dagger to meet the blow. Even knowing what’s coming, the numbing force of his hit is still a shock. I cry out at the impact, my weapon thrown once again from my hand. It clatters to the ground a meter away.

I stumble back. The heel of my boot catches one of the arrows scattered across the ground, and I slip, falling hard on my ass.

The horseman steps up to me, the sun illuminating his olive skin and lightening his eyes. He stares down at me, our gazes locking.

I raise my chin defiantly, even though I’m afraid. My body trembles with my fear.

The horseman lifts his blade.

But he doesn’t end me right away. He stares at my face for a long time, long enough for me to wonder why he’s hesitating. War’s eyes drop to the hollow of my throat, and his sword wavers.

What is he doing?

My hand twitches with the need to touch my throat and feel the grisly scar that decorates it.

War’s eyes travel back up to me. Now there’s something different about his expression, something that terrifies me in a whole new way.

“Netet wā neterwej.”

You are the one He sent me.

I start at his voice. His words aren’t Hebrew or Arabic or Yiddish or English. He doesn’t speak any language I recognize … and yet I understand him as though he does.

“Netet tayj ḥemet.”

You are my wife.

Chapter 3

You are my wife.

That statement doesn’t process. Nor does the fact that I can actually understand him.

The horseman sheaths his sword, giving me a strange, fierce look.

He’s not going to kill me.

That does process. I lay in place for about two more seconds, and then I scuttle back again.

I force myself to my feet as War prowls after me, and now I do run.

I bolt back the way I came, heading towards an exit out of the Old City. I don’t hear the horseman behind me, and foolishly