Page 136 of War

My stomach bottoms out.

Should’ve let Uzair kill me.It would be a better death than the one I’m going to get. I walked myself into my own grave, coming into this building.

The flames stream up the walls like some savage orange river. I cover my mouth with my shirt and squint against the smoky darkness.

Can’t see, can’t breathe.

I stumble towards the obstruction, even as more of the ceiling crashes down around me. I’m starting to feel faint from all the smoke inhalation.

This is the end.

BOOM!

A shadow bursts through the debris, the flames licking its sides. From the darkness, I see a blood red shape take form—War’s horse, I realize. Deimos gallops towards me.

My eyes move up, and I meet the violent, turbulent gaze of the horseman himself.

His eyes burn brighter than the fire—and his expression! Like heaven itself couldn’t stop him.

War swings himself off his horse and runs towards me. When he gets to my side, the horseman cups my face, his hands cool against my burning skin.

“What were you thinking?” His shout resonates above the roar of the fire.

I touch his face, my breath labored. My lungs are on fire, and I can’t seem to stay grounded. The only thing that’s keeping me present is War’s panicked expression and his grip on me.

“You could’ve died!” he says.

And then he kisses me.

He ravages my mouth like it’s a city he’s set to destroy. His lips part mine, and then the taste of him fills my mouth.

It’s like savoring heaven and hell and earth and death and all the things there aren’t names for.

This doesn’t feel like all our other touches, the ones where we owed each other something. War’s massive body trembles with anger and need and want. Want and want and want and want—

I think I’m faint with relief and lust—that and the darkening air must be to blame for the black dots that cloud my vision. But then I feel my legs buckle, and then I feel nothing at all.

Chapter 38

I don’t rememberWar catching me, and I don’t remember us mounting his steed. But I do wake in time to see us charge through the burning building.

The horseman’s hand is under my shirt, his palm nestled between my breasts. Even now, when we’re still in danger, he’s dead set on healing me.

The ceiling and walls are falling around us like tears, and yet Deimos remains steady through it all, even as embers drop onto his dark mane. I swipe them away, though even that small action causes my vision to darken.

We clamor down the stairwell, the jostling ride causing me to cough until I’m breathless.

There’s no gradual shift from darkness to light. One moment we’re inside the smoky building, and the next, we’re outside, daylight blazing about us. I can barely see the sun through the burning haze of the city, but still the sight of it—bright and bloody—causes a sob to slip out of me.

The horseman pulls me tighter against him.

“I thought I was going to die,” I tell him, my voice hoarse. I was certain of it.

War glances down at me with his terrible eyes. “Not today, wife,” he vows. “Not ever.”

Though the battlerages on, War flees the city, clutching me to his chest.

I’m not sure what to make of the situation, only that something has shifted between us.

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