War (The Four Horsemen, #2)

by Laura Thalassa

“You’re wrong if you think that angers me.” His smile is menacing. “Everything you are has been made for me.”

“I saw you, and for the first time, I wanted.” His words pucker my flesh. “And so, I took.”

“You should have always been staying in my tent with me. I have let you enjoy your own space because it pleased you, and I enjoy pleasing you and your ridiculous, human whims.”

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

“Fuck it. I want a divorce.” “No.”

“I’m giving you your dignity right now.” War leans in. “And something tells me you still have plenty of dignity left in you. Don’t force my dead to sling you over his shoulder. Now, get in our tent.” I glare at him for a second or two. My body practically shakes with the need to undermine him. But the horseman’s already proven once tonight that I can’t get away.

I bolt anyway. Defiance—even fatalistic defiance—feels good.