Page 137 of War

My body is still shaking from battle, and I’m so tired.

I sway a little in the saddle, just remembering that final fight. The bite of steel, the breath of fire, the smoke filling my lungs—I cough at the memory, and once I start, I can’t seem to stop. I cough and cough. My entire body shakes with the effort and my vision clouds.

“Stay with me, wife,” War commands. There’s such authority in his voice that I force my eyes to flutter open. I hadn’t realized I’d closed them …

Another bout of coughing racks my chest. The air is dry and my throat is dry and I’m not taking in enough oxygen.

I feel more than see War’s eyes on me this time. He curses beneath his breath, then moves his hand out from under my shirt—only to wrap it around my throat.

For a moment, I panic. I’ve just been in battle after all. Having a hand at your throat should mean you’re going to get choked out. But this is War, War who insisted only moments ago that I wasn’t going to die.

And his touch is so gentle—almost comforting. My eyes close and I release a shaky breath, leaning back into him. He brushes a kiss along my temple, and the two of us ride like that.

Whatever power the horseman wields, it’s so subtle that I don’t feel it at first. But the longer we ride and the longer his calloused hand presses against my throat, the less I need to cough.

When we arrive at camp, people watch us with startled expressions. War and I aren’t supposed to be back. The horseman cuts through our settlement, charging forward until we arrive at his tent.

War hops off his steed, then grabs me by the waist. He pulls me down and into his arms.

And then his sinful lips are back on mine, heated and demanding. I lose myself in the taste of him as he scoops me up and begins carrying me. I hear the rustle of canvas, and then War is setting me on my feet inside his tent.

He looks at me and things are different.

He’sdifferent. The violence he carries around like a cloak is gone. My horseman seems …human.

Not looking away from me, War removes all of his armor, then all of his clothes, his expression serious.

He comes over to me and now it’s my turn. His hands are deft as he pulls off my shirt, then my pants. I just sort of stand there. We’ve undressed dozens of times, but not like this. Not with the horseman looking at me with so muchlifein his eyes.

Once I’m naked, he lowers us both to his bed. I’m dirty and bloody and weak with fatigue. This doesn’t ring of romance.

But when he presses my body to his, there’s nothing about it that feels sexual. Intimate—yes—but not sexual.

I take a ragged breath, my eyes going to War’s. “What are we doing?”

“You almostdied,” he responds. There’s a wild edge to the horseman’s features. He lifts a shaky hand and tucks a strand of my brown hair behind my ear. “If I hadn’t rode in when I had …” Rather than finishing the sentence, he pulls me towards him, pressing a kiss to my lips, as if to make sure that I am still indeed, alive.

“Isn’t that why you’re here?” I say softly, when the kiss ends. “We’re all supposed to die.” My throat burns as I speak.

“Not everyone—not you.”

My eyelids are heavy.

I’m so tired. So, so tired. Whether it’s exhaustion from battle, smoke inhalation, blood loss, or War’s healing magic, my body is demanding sleep.

“I’m still human,” I murmur. I’m always going to be part of the problem in the horseman’s eyes.

“Yes,” War says. “You are painfully human. Your bones want to break, your skin wants to bleed, your heart wants to stop. And for the first time ever, I amdesperatefor none of those things to happen. I have never known true fear until now.”

The admission is so raw, so cutting, that I pull back from him a little, just to drink his expression in.

The horseman healed me once before, right after I was attacked. I was just as close to death then. But for all of War’s concern then, he hadn’t acted like this. Whatever icy heart he was given when he came to earth, it’s beginning to thaw bit by bit. And now I’m catching a glimpse of the true man beneath it.

I reach out and trace his lips. “You’re not as you seem,” I breathe, already drifting off.

War kisses the tip of my finger. “You never were.”

With those final words ringing in my ears, I slip off to sleep.

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