Page 51 of War

I give him a look just as another bullet wiggles its way out of his armor, clinking to the ground.

The horseman steps in close, and without warning, he cups the back of my head and pulls me in for a savage kiss. The world is spinning on its head, but the moment War’s lips touch mine, the cyclone seems to stop.

There’s no more battle, no more death and violence, no more heaven pitted against earth. It’s just him and me.

He tastes like smoke and steel, and my lips respond to his, just as they did last night. It seems I can’tnotkiss him, even when he represents everything I’m fighting against.

His mouth scours mine over and over and—

War breaks away from the kiss, and the world rushes back in.

I stare at the horseman, dazed, as he backs away, his kohl-lined eyes fixed to mine.

“Deimos!” he calls out, not looking away from me.

War’s steed comes galloping to him like it had been just waiting for the order.

The horseman mounts the beast while I stand there, wondering what the fuck I was thinking just now when I kissed him back.

War doesn’t say anything else. With a final look at me, he rides back into the fray.

By the timethe fighting is done, no one is left.

The streets are filled with the dead and dying. The buildings are ashes and rubble. The once blue sky is now a hazy red-brown and ash drifts down like snow.

The captives have been taken away, and the rest of us are filtering back out the way we came.

My hands shake from pain and exhaustion and hunger and a deep sense ofwrongness. What happened today wasn’t right.

I stumble across the horseman again on my way out of the city.

War is standing at a crossroads, his back to me, a field of bodies spread around him. He’s splashed with blood, calmly surveying the destruction.

He can’t be something holy. Hecan’t. Nothing pure can be responsible for pain like this.

But then he turns, and his eyes meet mine. Beneath the bloodlust, there’s a weight and a resolve in his gaze. And if I stare long enough, I might even say that he looks a bit burdened.

I glance away before that can happen.

I continue walking on, skirting around the bodies and strolling right past him as though he were invisible.

Not two minutes later, I hear galloping behind me. I swivel around just in time to see the horseman astride his warhorse, Deimos, the two of them heading straight for me.

War leans out of his saddle, his arm outstretched. I begin to move out of the way, but War simply adjusts his trajectory so that he’s still closing in on me. The distance closes between us—ten meters, five,two.

His arm slams into my midsection, sweeping me off the ground. My breath leaves me all at once as I’m dragged onto his horse. I gasp for air as War secures my back to his front.

“Next time, you’ll wait for me,” he says into my ear.

Unlikely.

I scowl at him over my shoulder as he carries me out of town, hating that I’m pressed so close to him.

Once I’ve taken in a few deep breaths, I say, “You made me kill today.” They were his soldiers, but still.

It wasn’t right, none of it was right.

War doesn’t respond.

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