Page 164 of War

There’s nowhere to go. Nowhere to escape these horrors. I don’t even have my own tent. I want to scream.

I consider leaving the camp entirely—not that it would work, but I still consider it. I glance at my thumb, where the morning’s cut has healed over. Leaving would be foolish anyway; I already made plans for tonight.

I head back to War’s tent, the only place my zombie guards won’t follow me. When I enter, my eyes sweep over the space. There’s still no weapons inside, including my arrows.

Behind me I hear the tent flaps thrown open.

“What was that?” War’s voice is low and menacing.

My eyes widen. I didn’t actually think he’d leave the revelry early. He never does.

I turn around as he stalks towards me.

“You want to be with me, but you are unwilling to actually make any sacrifices,” I say. I’m ready to pick back up right where we left off.

War steps in close. “I am not here tomake sacrifices, Miriam. I am here totake. Whatever human notions you have regarding relationships, cast them aside; they will not apply to us.”

My anger from last night is back, and it burns so hot that I’m all but shaking with it. The horseman is still challenging me with his eyes.

Then I leave. I leave and I spend the rest of what will undoubtedly be a short life working to forget you.

I bite back the words.

Instead, I push his chest. His body barely sways.

The horseman smiles darkly at me. “Even defeated, you have such fire in you. I have seen villages that burn less brightly.”

I push him again … and again and again. I don’t stop until he catches my wrists.

He reels me in, and then he kisses me, his lips fierce and unforgiving. This is the War I remember. He’s all power and possession.

I fall into the kiss, trying not to think about anything beyond moving my lips. It’s hard to kiss him, hard to dance this line between desire and anger.

He’s an inferno—his mouth hot on mine, his deft fingers pulling at my clothing.

War tosses me onto the pallet, then kneels between my legs. “There are a few sacrifices Icanmake.”

He unbuttons my pants and pulls them and my panties off, taking my shoes and socks along with them. And then his mouth descends on my core.

I thread my fingers into his hair, gripping his dark locks tight enough to hurt. I tilt his head up to face me. “I don’t want to see what you can give me,” I say, still angry—so very, very angry. “Show me the benefits oftaking.”

With a wicked smile, he does.

I wait untilWar’s asleep.

You’d think an immortal like him—one who supposedly doesn’t need rest—would learn to stay awake, living with a woman like me. But he hasn’t learned to—yet. To be fair, I did everything in my power to make sure he fell asleep this evening.

Now I carefully disentangle myself from him, getting up to slip on my clothing and shoes.

I head across the room and quietly open one of War’s chests. Inside, nestled amongst the horseman’s things, is some rope I discovered earlier. Quietly, I remove it and head back across the tent.

My mother’s voice rings in my ear.

Miriam, don’t do it … I can’t tell you how stupid this idea is.

I set the rope on the table then walk over to the pile of clothing War left behind. Sitting on top of it all is the horseman’s sheathed sword. He probably intended to put the blade away, but sex then sleep distracted him.

I pick the weapon up, and—