He pulls out one of his blades and saws through my bindings, freeing my wrists before tossing aside the thick rope.

“War—” I begin.

“Don’t.”

One look at his expression, and it’s clear he isn’t fucking around.

Agitatedly he begins to remove the rest of his weapons.

“God didn’t send me a wife,” he says under his breath. “He sent me my reckoning.”

I stand there, rubbing my wrists, unsure where my feelings lie. On the one hand, I saw so much gruesome death today—and this man is responsible for it all. On the other hand, he saved a child, then spared me. I’m disgusted by his world, but I’m also strangely indebted to him.

“You shouldn’t be attacking my army,” he says roughly.

“Why not?”

“Because I said so!” he bellows. War turns on me now, his face enflamed in anger. “I saved a life for you—I went against my very nature to do so—and you thank me by killing my men in return?”

“That man was going to kill me!”

His face sharpens. “Don’t lie and pretend it was just one man who you killed.”

“Why does it suddenly matter?” I say, my own voice heating. “You gave me the bow and arrow knowing full well what I intended to do with it.”

“You’ve created dissention in my ranks,” he says.

I undoubtedly have. And people will hate us both for it.

“There’s already dissention in your ranks, or have you forgotten that you destroyed all these people’s cities and killed their families before you took them prisoner?”

A muscle in his jaw jumps.

War steps up to me, coming in so close our chests touch. “I have been lenient with you. I won’t make that mistake again.”

My heart drops at that. It was his leniency that spared Mamoon. That’s the one part of him I don’t want changing.

He begins to brush past me when I catch his arm.

The horseman pauses, glancing at me. His eyes are still furious.

“Thank you,” I say. “For saving the boy.”

War leans away, looking a little disgusted, like I’ve managed to offend his delicate sensibilities.

I grip his arm a little tighter. “Seriously. You cannot know what that means to me.” He spared a stranger’s life. It’s almost inconsequential next to the heaps of people he killed, but he’s never saved someone outside of his own self-interest. Not until today.

War searches my eyes, maybe looking for validation that he did something right, even though to him it felt wrong.

My throat bobs, and I realize that there are things I am going to have to do if I want War to ever consider saving another life.

I move my hand from his arm to the back of his neck, and I draw him down towards me. When he is within reach, I lift myself on my tiptoes and I kiss away any last regrets he may harbor.

He doesn’t fall into it—not right away. But once he does give himself over to the kiss, he gives himself wholly. His hands are suddenly in my hair and his pent up anger is turning itself into passion.

There is nothing so satisfying as a fight followed by a fuck, he’d said.

Show him how grateful you are for the lives spared today. Maybe then War will again consider being lenient in the future.

Heart pounding fast, I begin to touch the horseman’s body. He’s still wearing armor, bloodied, dirty armor. I begin to pull at it.

“Take this off,” I command.

“First you get me to break my rules, now you give me commands?” He says this even as he begins to undress us both. “You’re playing a delicate, dangerous game.”

“Aren’t dangerous games your favorite?” I say.

War reels me in close. “Savage woman, I don’t play games.” With that he rips away the last of my clothes.

We’re still bloody from battle, but that doesn’t stop the two of us from coming together. I pull him down to the carpet-covered floor, his large body engulfing me.

I take one of his hands, threading it between mine. The markings on his knuckles glow, and I kiss them one by one. These hands have caused so much death, but now they’ve saved me and another.

Perhaps one day these hands will stop the killing altogether. It’s insane to wish for something so farfetched, but I’m addicted to the possibility. It’s all the hope I have left.

War’s cock is hot and hard against me, and I can sense that battle hungry buzz still burning through his system. He’s practically shaking with the need to bury himself in me.

The idea of having sex with the horseman is utterly terrifying and completely exhilarating. I shift beneath him, until the head of his cock is pressed against my entrance.

For an instant, War’s hips press forward, and oh my God this is going to happen. But then he groans and pulls away from me, his entire body trembling with his restraint. “Heavenly creature, you were created to tempt me.” War is breathing heavily. “But you haven’t surrendered. Not yet. I’ll have you wholly only then.”

The horseman reaches out, cupping my pussy. Very deliberately, he dips a finger in. “But for now, this will do.”

Chapter 33

While the rest of the camp—War included—is at the revelries later that evening, I head over to Zara’s tent, food in hand. It’s become our thing, bringing each other food when we’ve had a rough day.

I enter the tent without knocking. Inside, Mamoon is asleep on Zara’s pallet, and my friend sits next to him, stroking his hair.

She jolts when I enter, her hand reaching for her dagger. She relaxes when she sees me.

“Sorry, I should’ve announced myself,” I say.

In response, she pulls me to her and gives me a tight hug. She doesn’t let go after several seconds, and pretty soon I hear her muffled sobs as she cries into my shoulder. Today was an awful day for her. She lost her sister and her brother-in-law, and she nearly lost her nephew.

I rub her back and hold her, letting her spill out all of her grief. It goes on for a long time, and her sobs are mostly silent, probably due to the fact that she’s trying to let Mamoon sleep.

“What do I tell him?” she whispers.

I shake my head against her. “I don’t know.” This is such an unnatural situation. There are no easy words for it.

Eventually, her sobs become sniffles, and then she pulls away, wiping at her eyes.

“How’s he doing?” I ask.

“Okay,” she says, her voice shaky. “I mean, he’s traumatized, but he’s alive.” Her voice breaks a little over the word. “That’s more than I can say about—”

About the rest of her family.

“What happened to them?”

Zara gathers her legs to her chest. “War’s riders got to them first. They weren’t even in their home when I got there. I think they’d tried to flee—I found their bodies lying in the street …”

Mamoon stirs, and Zara lets the story trail away.

“What does he know?” I ask, nodding to her nephew.

Her features crumble and she shakes her head. “I’m not sure. He hasn’t spoken much.”

“At least he has you—and you have him.”