War (The Four Horsemen #2) - Laura Thalassa Page 0,86

to cross me will find themselves dead.”

I want to laugh. I want to melt into the floor.

“Not that sort of protection,” I say.

Oh boy. I didn’t expect to have this conversation today.

The horseman’s eyebrows pull together.

“I could get pregnant,” I say slowly.

I can’t tell by his expression whether or not he’s following.

Maybe I’ve gotten this all wrong. Maybe War can’t have kids. I mean, he’s no ordinary human.

I take one look at his muscle-packed body. I’ll be damned if I’ve ever seen a more virile man. I feel like one long look from him could knock me up.

My next question just spills out of me.

“Have you ever gotten a woman pregnant?”

Those glowing tattoos shine from the darkness. The horseman stares at me, looking like he’s poised to strike. In fact, the longer I stare, the more menacing he appears.

“Why would you ask such a question?” he says.

Curiosity mostly.

“Have you?” I press.

Whatever state of inebriation War was in when he entered his tent, it’s gone.

“What do you think, Miriam?” Those violent eyes are locked on mine, and he sounds particularly dangerous. “Do you think I impregnated a woman while I moved across your land? Do you think I then killed my child, along with its mother?

“Or do you believe that they are both here somewhere in camp, hidden from view?”

I don’t know. I wouldn’t put any of it past him, despite the fact that he sounds offended. So offended, in fact, that I’m now pretty sure that despite the sex fest he’s had since coming to earth, he has no children.

That thought should relieve me. Instead, the whole conversation is reminding me of all the reasons why sleeping with War is a bad idea. Fooling around with him is only fun when I don’t have to think too much about it.

“Coming here was a mistake,” I say. I begin to walk past him, towards the exit.

He catches my arm and spins me to face him. “This was not a mistake.”

“Sleep it off, War,” I say. “You’ll feel better once you do.”

“So you’re fleeing then?” he accuses.

“Isn’t that what all us humans do?” I ask.

“Not you, savage woman,” he says, his expression dark and cunning as he grips my arm. “You fight even when it’s unwise to do so.”

“What would you do, if you got a woman pregnant?” I ask.

War just stares at me.

He has absolutely no idea, and that is terrifying in its own right.

“Goodnight, War,” I say.

I jerk my arm from his hold, and I leave his tent.

I don’t see War again until the next day. By the time he comes to me, he’s already returned from raiding all the satellite communities around Arish. From what I’ve seen of Egypt so far, there aren’t many of these. Out here, there’s desert and ocean and sky and nothing else.

“Did you have a hangover?” I ask him. I sit outside my tent, busy fitting a glass arrowhead to a finished wooden shaft.

“A hangover?” He smiles a bit. “There was a brief flash of pain and some fleeting nausea, but I wouldn’t call that a hangover.”

Part of me is belatedly surprised that he knows what a hangover is, but he’s lived among soldiers for a year now. He was bound to learn about them eventually.

“Do you remember our talk?” I ask him. “From last night?”

His face changes, but I can’t say exactly what his expression is. Brooding? Curious? Right now it’s impossible to tell.

“Every last bit.”

Awesome.

He takes my hand. “Come, I want to have you alone to myself.”

I take his hand, even as my eyebrows furrow. “Where are we going?”

He whistles. “You’ll see.”

A minute later, Deimos comes galloping towards us, his deep red coat shining in the sun. He still has his saddle and bridle on from the morning raid.

The horse comes to a stop next to us.

“How do you get him to do that?” I ask. He doesn’t need to be stabled, and he comes at his master’s call. I haven’t met that many horses, but I don’t think this is normal.

War leans towards me. “He is no more a horse than I am a man.”

Point taken.

The horseman gestures for me to mount Deimos. For a moment, I hesitate, not sure that I want to spend more time with War than is absolutely necessary. But in the end, I get on.

War swings into the saddle behind me, so close his thighs encase mine, and his chest presses against my back. This isn’t the first time I’ve shared a saddle with the horseman,