War (The Four Horsemen Book 2) by Thalassa Laura

Author:Thalassa, Laura [Thalassa, Laura]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: Lavabrook Publishing, LLC
Published: 2019-07-09T16:00:00+00:00

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.”

Zara takes a deep, shuddering breath and nods.

She wipes her eyes again and looks me over. “How are you?” she asks, pulling herself together. Alarm rushes into her eyes. “Oh my God, this afternoon,” she says, like she’s realizing what happened for the first time. “You did so much for my nephew, and then you were caught for it—I’m so sorry.” She begins to cry again, and I catch her hand.

“Hey, hey—hey,” I say. “I got myself into that mess. Not you. Don’t be sorry for it. Besides, War won’t let me die, so …” So I get to be the little asshole that wrecks his plans. Kind of. I then have to make up for it in sexual favors that I enjoy more than I should.

“I don’t want you to suffer for my situation,” Zara says.

Suffer might not be the word I’d use …

“I’m not,” I assure her.

“Be careful with the horseman,” she says to me. “What he did today … he’s more than just enamored with you.”

I swallow a little. I assumed War liked me solely because he believed his god made me for him.

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