“I am not yours.” There’s a very big difference between wanting to fuck a pretty man versus being his. The corners of War’s sinful lips curve upwards. “You are mine. You knew it the moment you stared up at my face that day in Jerusalem. Just as I knew you were mine then too.” His gaze drops to the hollow of my throat, where my scar is. War steps in closer, drawn by my old wound. “Mine by violence. Mine by might. Mine by divine proclamation.”
