War (The Four Horsemen, #2)(117)

That’s all the confirmation War needs to reel me into his arms. He holds me tightly for a long time, like I might slip away with the evening breeze.

Eventually he pulls away enough to gaze down at me, his eyes intense. “I love you,” he confesses.

I don’t breathe.

“I love you, Miriam,” he repeats. “I hadn’t known until last night what this strange happiness I felt around you was. But I do now. Being with you makes me feel as though I have swallowed the sun. Everything is brighter, fuller, better because of you.”

I have no defense against this. I never have. I can take War’s cruelties, I can take his violence. But his love—it cracks me wide open.

“I love you,” he continues, “and yet it has been destroying us both.” He shakes his head. “I won’t let that continue to happen. I have wounded you and wronged you, and I will change—I vow I will change.” He grips me tightly.

I suck in a breath at that.

War told me once that human oaths were brittle things—bound to break with time. In the same conversation he said that his vows—those were unshakeable. And he was right. I begged and pleaded for him to change, I threatened and betrayed, and I got nearly nowhere with him.

Until now. Because now his vow is changing. And I don’t know what exactly this one entails, only that I’m stupid enough to be hopeful.

No, not stupid. Brave. I’m brave enough to be hopeful.

“Say something,” he says.

Have faith. That’s what I told War earlier. And that’s all religion ever really was for me. Faith. That things will get better, in this world and the next.

It’s time for me to remember how to have faith in the universe.

I open my mouth and the words spill out.

“I’m pregnant.”





Chapter 50


It takes several seconds for the words to percolate through War. His brow furrows and then— The horseman’s eyes widen, and his grip on me tightens just a fraction.

“Truly?” he asks, his eyes searching mine.

Hope this wasn’t a mistake.

I nod, sucking in my lower lip. “Yeah. You knocked me up real good.”

War’s gaze moves down to my stomach. After a moment, he places one of his large hands on my abdomen. “You’re carrying my child.” His fingers flex against my flesh. “My child.”

I see his throat work, and I’m petrified, utterly petrified.

War’s gaze moves back to mine, and his eyes shine.

Is he sad? Is he happy?

The horseman takes my face into his. “I have never felt this … joy.”

He lets out a laugh, and his eyes … his violent, scary eyes tear up.

Oh my God. He’s happy. Obscenely happy. And now, for the first time since I found out I was pregnant, I feel a spark of happiness too. More than a spark. I smile a little shyly at him, and he takes my face.

“Is this what you were running from?”

I pause for a moment, then nod.

He presses his forehead to mine. “You will never have to fear me, wife—nor will our children. I swear it before God Himself.”

Children? Did he just assume there’d be more?

War kisses me then, and I get swept away by him. I can feel the horseman’s excitement and his hope in the press of his lips. My heart races. He wants the whole human package—marriage, children, everything. I’m not sure I entirely believed it until now.

“No more, Miriam,” War says. “No more fighting, no more running, no more distrust between us. I understand. Finally, I do. What I have done to you and what I have refused to do for you.

“I understand,” he repeats, emphasizing the word. “From this moment on, things will be different, wife. I gave you my vow and I intend to uphold it. You have surrendered—I will as well.”

A chill slides over me then, which is the absolute wrong response because this is everything I wanted.

“Just say you’ll be mine. Not just in name, but in all ways. Then it is yours. It is all yours.”

I search the warlord’s face, sure that I misheard him. But this is no trick. All I have to do is give myself over to him. To be War’s wholly and completely … and things will change.

It’s hard to trust your heart, but it’s easy to give in to it.

“I am yours, War,” I say. “Now and forever.”

After we get back to camp, War pulls me into bed and holds me close, his hand drifting down to my stomach.

“I have a child.” He’s been saying varying versions of this since he found out. He’s still dumbstruck by it.

The horseman leans down and places a kiss against my stomach, and I run a hand through his hair.

His eyes rise to meet mine. “I don’t know what it means to have a pregnant wife,” he admits. “I’m wholly unfamiliar with the process.”

I guess he would be. There’s not a whole lot of pregnant women involved in wars.

“I’ve never done this either.” For once, we’ve found something we’re both equally inexperienced at.

“What do you know of it?” he asks.

“Not much—other than the fact that women stay pregnant for nine months before giving birth,” I say. “I’ve probably been pregnant for a month or more already,” I add.