Page 180 of War

His eyes are telling me what his words haven’t.

I love you.

The rest of his body is good at talking too. Every touch feels like worship, every thrust feels like a promise. This is all spinning wildly out of my control, and Goddamnit, his gaze is still pinned on me. Why did I ask him not to look away? I can’t escape what’s in his eyes. I’m melting to it, and I really, really don’t want to.

I can feel myself building … building … building …

“War—”

I come then, staring into his face, my lips parting in surprise as my orgasm crashes through me.

I see his own expression sharpen as his cock thickens inside me an instant later. And then he’s coming on the wings of my own climax, the two of us locked in this strange synchrony.

Our orgasms seem to last an eternity, the two of us staring at each other as we ride them out.

This is something new, something more than cut and dry sex. I can’t deny it, even if it startles me.

I made love to the horseman. It’s thrilling and terrifying all at once.

He slips out of me and pulls me to him, and for a brief moment, things feel comfortable between us once more.

But the comfortable moment starts to drift away when I realize that War is still staring at me, his gaze caught somewhere between want and wonder.

“I have never felt that way before,” he finally admits. “What are you doing to me, wife?”

I shake my head. I don’t know whateitherof us is doing.

“I cannot unknow this feeling,” War continues. “You were right. Love is far more than longing. It’s far more than anything I imagined.”

Chapter 48

The next morningI wake to extreme nausea.

I slip out of War’s embrace as slyly as I can and shove a shirt and pants on. There’s no time for bras, underwear and shoes. I scramble barefoot out of the tent.

Luckily, War’s tent is on the edge of camp, and I manage to make it to the outskirts before I sick myself, over and over.

Now that my zombie guards are gone, there’s no one to witness this, except for maybe one guard in the distance, but he’s too far away to get a good look at me.

Once I’m finished, I stagger a little ways away, then sit down hard on the ground, running my hands through my hair.

My mind is quiet for a long time—so quiet, in fact, that when a thought slips in, it feels very, very loud.

My period should’ve come by now.

I take several deep breaths, even as my heart begins to race.

I try to count off the weeks since I last bled, and I think I get as far back as six before I become unsure.

We’ve done a lot of moving. It’s hard to keep track of the days here … but no, I think that even assuming I over-counted, my period should still be here.

My unease now pools low in my gut.

I pinch my temples and breathe slowly in and out.

Don’t panic, don’t panic. There must be some simple explanation.

Maybe it’s the stress of all this traveling and the constant war. Maybe my body is in shock. Maybe that has simply delayed my period.

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