War props himself up on his forearms. “Wife.” His eyes glitter.

“A deal’s a deal,” I say. I move my hand up and down his shaft to emphasize my point. In response, his hips jerk.

“God’s wrath,” he swears beneath his breath. “What, exactly, do you intend to do—?”

His words cut off sharply as my lips wrap around the head of his cock. He groans, his hips bucking up to meet my mouth.

He’s huge, and I’m clumsy and not at all sure what I’m doing, but he’s groaning and shuddering, so I must be doing at least something right.

“Mercy to the fallen, I’ve never … never felt sensation like this …” His words taper into a groan.

Alright, either he’s laying it on thick, or I totally missed a career as an expert prostitute because War seems to really be enjoying this.

At some point I find a rhythm, and then it’s his hands that delve into my hair, holding me to him.

“Your mouth against me—it’s the most exquisite pain, wife.”

I’m happy he thinks that because my God, this man’s dick is going to break my jaw.

Once I gain enough confidence, my hand moves to his balls.

“Miriam—”

That’s all the warning I get.

War thickens inside my mouth, and then he’s coming and coming and coming. I taste him against my tongue for a moment—am I supposed to swallow? But then it doesn’t matter because I am swallowing, and he’s making sexy, satisfied sounds as he continues to piston in and out from between my lips.

I feel oddly proud of my oral game for a hot five seconds before I realize I just gave a horseman of the apocalypse a blowjob, and I have superhuman cum inside me and I’m pretty sure none of this is good.

War pulls me up to him, distracting me from that disturbing line of thoughts.

“I may know every language, wife,” he says, his sex-roughened voice extra deep, “but I have no words for what I feel right now.”

I search his kohl-lined gaze, then give him a soft kiss on the lips.

The horseman is painfully kind. Much kinder than I ever imagined him to be.

It doesn’t change who he is, the cynical part of me says. And then the guilt creeps in at what I did and what I will continue to do with the horseman. Worse, I truly wanted it for my own selfish reasons.

At least the aviaries will be saved. I can rest easy knowing that.

I lay there in the horseman’s arms for a long time. Long enough for our breathing to return to normal and our bodies to cool. I even spend a few minutes tracing War’s glowing tattoos.

Just like last night, I want to reimagine us, if only to alleviate my guilt. I want to pretend I get to have him and a decent life and no more battles and everything else that I know I don’t get.

The daydream only lasts for a few minutes. Once I can hold reality at bay for no longer, I begin to get up.

I’ve only just begun to step out of War’s bed when he hooks an arm around my torso and drags me back to his pallet.

“Where are you going?” he asks, his breath hot against my ear.

I flash him a surprised look. Isn’t it obvious? “Back to my tent.”

“No,” he says simply.

I lay there, my back against his chest, for a second. “This is not what we agreed on,” I say.

“Your touches,” War replies. “That’s what we agreed on. And I’m claiming them all, even the ones that happen when I’m not taking you in my mouth.”

My face heats. I don’t know what to say to that. I don’t really have an argument. I just hadn’t planned on continuing to cuddle with this monster.

He leans over me and begins trailing kisses down my torso.

Not that he plans on cuddling …

His lips pass my belly button.

“Things will be different now,” he murmurs against my skin.

I feel hot and cold, wrong and right, all at the same time.

His lips move lower, lower …

“Again?” I say breathlessly. “But I’m not ready—”

He kisses my clit and I buck against him.

Oh God, what have I agreed to?

“Yes, Miriam, we’re doing this again. And again. And again.” He pulls away long enough to look up the line of my body. “My wife,” he says, “I look forward to this trade.”

The sun has only just risen when I wake. I’m caught in a tangle of War’s limbs, and my body feels raw and tired from everything we did throughout the night.

Next to me, the horseman sleeps soundly. My eyes drift to his mouth, and my cheeks flame all over again. My core is extra sensitive and my thigh muscles hurt as I sneak out of War’s bed and slip the scattered bits of my clothes back on. Once I’m dressed, I head for the exit.

I pause, glancing back to take the horseman in one last time.

The sharp angles of his face have softened in sleep; he looks almost happy. I feel my stomach flutter in response, the sensation quickly followed by horror.

This is just a physical relationship. Anything else only promises heartbreak.

Chapter 28

I sit in my tent, my forearms resting on my gathered knees, my thumb pressed to my lips as I think. Today I can’t even concentrate on making bows and arrows.

Every time I close my eyes, I swear I can feel the glide of War’s hands and the press of his lips. And every time a set of footfalls near my tent, I tense, sure they’re his. But so far today, he’s given me my space.

“Miriam! Are you in your tent?” Zara’s voice rings out.

Fuck. She’s the last person I want to see right now. And the one time that I need the phobos riders to keep her out, they let her through.

“Yeah,” I say weakly, “I’m in here.”

Several seconds later, the flaps pull back and she peers inside at me. “What are you doing in there? It’s hot.”

I’m hiding.

Instead of answering her, I step out of the tent.

As soon as I do so, Zara looks me over, a frown growing on her face. “Are you okay? You look like shit.”

I wince. “Thanks for your honesty.”

“Never mind about that.” She clasps my hand between hers. “Are you riding out tomorrow?” she asks, a note of urgency in her voice.

Oh God, the invasion. A wave of nausea rolls through me at the prospect.

“Yeah, I think so,” I say.

Just because I’ve gotten used to this place doesn’t mean I won’t try to stop these soldiers at every opportunity I get.

“Miriam,” she squeezes my hand fiercely, “They put me on cooking duty for tomorrow, but I need to ride out with the rest of you.”

“Why?” I ask her quizzically. Being a soldier means you have to kill your own kind … and it means that you yourself might be killed. Neither are desirable options.

“My sister.” Her voice breaks. “She lives in Arish with her husband and son. I need to get them out.”

My stomach bottoms out.

“You’re sure they live there?” It’s a dumb question; of course she’s sure.

Zara nods anyway. “My brother-in-law, Aazim, is a fisherman.”

A fisherman …

The ocean blocks the city from the north.

I squeeze her hand. “Does he have a boat?”