TA Chase 2 War

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War
ISBN # 978-0-85715-847-5
©Copyright T.A. Chase 2011
Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright December 2011
Edited by Laura Hulley
Total-E-Bound Publishing

This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination
and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or
places is purely coincidental.

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of the artwork.

Published in 2011 by Total-E-Bound Publishing, Think Tank, Ruston Way, Lincoln, LN6 7FL,
United Kingdom.

Warning:

This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This
story has a heat rating of Total-e-sizzling and a sexometer of 1.

This story contains 144 pages, additionally there is also a free excerpt at the end of the book
containing 6 pages.

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The Four Horsemen

WAR

T.A. Chase

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Fighting the battle in his own heart, War must find peace before he can find love.

War destroyed an entire tribe of innocent people when he was human, all because his best
friend lied to him. His guilt brings him a destiny he never planned. As the Red Horseman,
War spends the centuries creating battles and wars between countries to restore balance in
the world. While he accepts the job to atone for his sins, he wishes he didn’t cause men to kill
each other. War lives a solitary life, without hope of ever finding forgiveness.

From the mountains of Afghanistan to the plains of Kansas, and to the steppes of Mongolia,
Russell Heinz searches for peace. He’s battling survivor’s guilt after having two members of
his army unit die within feet of him. His own mind shuts down, and Russell spends time in a
mental ward, dreaming of a man with blood-red hair and all-black eyes. Unsure if the man is
real or just a figment of his wounded mind, Russell heads to Mongolia, looking for
forgiveness of his own.

Separately, Russell and War fight their own personal demons. Together, they find peace in a
love tested by the fires of battle.

Dedication

Thanks to all my readers for supporting me, and encouraging me to keep writing.

Trademarks Acknowledgement

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following
wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

Land Rover: Tata Motors
The Godfather: Paramount Movies

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Prologue

Standing on the precipice, Baqir stared out of the battlefield with dawning horror. He’d

caused all the bloodshed and carnage. An entire tribe had been wiped out because of his

arrogance and trust in one man whom he never should have believed.

“Come to view your handiwork, my chief?”

He winced as Asad slapped him on the shoulder. All his anger welled up in him and he

clenched his hands into fists to keep from grabbing his sword to kill the man who’d been his

best friend as well as his trusted advisor.

“What sort of handiwork is this, Asad?” Baqir waved a hand in the direction of the

slaughter. “Why should I be proud of this?”

“You’ve expanded our territory and taught those bastards not to mess with us.”

Baqir heard satisfaction in Asad’s voice, causing him to grit his teeth. He’d learnt the

truth as he’d held his blade to the throat of the other tribe’s chief. Asad had betrayed him and

the knowledge tore him apart inside. He took a deep breath and turned to face the man

who’d been his best friend and closest companion since he was born.

Asad must have sensed something was wrong by the look on Baqir’s face. “What’s

wrong, Chief? You should be celebrating your victory. We are stronger now because our

enemy is vanquished.”

“Don’t you mean your enemy?” He folded his arms over his chest and glared at Asad.

Panic flared in Asad’s eyes for an instant before he schooled his face into a surprised

expression.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Asad shifted on his feet.

“It appears you had a vendetta against the chief of our neighbouring tribe for some

imagined slight. You used me to get revenge on them.” Baqir took a step towards Asad.

“How could you?”

Asad shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he repeated. “Who told

you this was just revenge?”

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“I had it from the lips of the chief himself as I held my blade to his throat and took his

life.”

“You’d believe a man about to die—who would say anything to keep you from killing

him—over me, a man you’ve known your entire life?” Asad sounded incredulous. “I’m hurt

and amazed you’d do that.”

“Stop it.”

Baqir struck, wrapping his hand around Asad’s throat and pressing his fingers into his

former friend’s neck. Asad struggled, but there was a reason why Baqir was chief and not

Asad. Baqir was the strongest and biggest of the warriors, plus he was usually the most level-

headed of them. Yet Asad had known all the right buttons to push to get Baqir to declare war

on the tribe closest to their territory.

War had been declared and all the people massacred, except for one young boy. He’d

been the only one Baqir’d been able to save once he’d learnt the truth. The boy huddled in

the corner of Baqir’s tent, and Baqir could see the fear and rage burning in the boy’s gaze. All

of his council would advise him to kill the child or risk being murdered in his sleep. Well, he

was willing to take the chance because he’d deserve whatever the boy did to him.

With a snarl, he shook Asad as the man’s face turned red and he struggled to breath.

“You did this. You caused me to destroy an entire tribe simply because your pride was

injured. None of their women wanted you, so you decided if you couldn’t have them, no one

would. Or did you think the council would question my orders and remove me as chief? Do

you want to be ruler of the tribe so badly? Why didn’t you challenge me? Were you afraid I’d

defeat you, so you did the dishonourable thing by betraying my trust?” He thrust Asad from

him, and he stumbled to his knees.

Asad spat at his feet. “You didn’t have to listen. You were as eager as I was to spill their

blood. It didn’t take much urging on my part to get you to declare war on them, Baqir. What

does it matter how it happened? They are gone now and you are stronger for it.”

“What does it matter?” Baqir drew his sword and placed the tip of it to Asad’s throat.

“Because I know what else you planned to do. You planned on killing me in the heat of battle

and taking my place as chief. You knew you’d never best me in a one-on-one challenge, so

you’d stab me in the back to become what you were never meant to be.”

“Yes.”

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Something broke inside Baqir’s heart and the guilt of all he’d done crushed him at

Asad’s confession.

“You never should have been chief. It was my position by birthright. My father was

chief. Yours was just a lowly warrior. You have no right to claim what is rightfully mine.”

Jealousy burned in his former best friend’s eyes. “I did all of this merely for a chance to kill

you during battle, but it’s like the gods protect you. Now you’ll kill me as well, adding my

body to the piles of others at the bottom of the cliff. Do it. Thrust your blade deep in my

chest, but you’ll always see my face before you like this, and you’ll be haunted by all those

you killed, because of a lie.”

Baqir didn’t need to hear any more. With a quick thrust and twist, he sliced Asad’s

throat open, and watched as the man who’d once meant more to him than his own family

crumbled to the ground, blood pouring from the wound.

The rest of the council came running to him, exclaiming in shock. Baqir didn’t have to

explain his actions. Being chief meant he had the power of life or death over all of them. Yet

they all knew something drastic must have happened, because Baqir wasn’t the kind of man

to kill without cause.

“Asad lied to take us to war with the Behinti. I had his confession and performed his

execution. Dump his body over the edge of the cliff. He deserves no honour, but make sure

his wives and children are taken care of. They aren’t to blame for his betrayal.”

He walked away, unable to watch the disposal of Asad’s body. No funeral pyre meant

Asad’s soul would wander the earth for eternity. As far as Baqir was concerned, it was a

fitting end to a traitor and a liar.

Later that night, after all the wounded had been treated and the dead burned, Baqir

retired to his tent, heart heavy for the enormous loss suffered not only by his tribe, but by the

Behinti as well. He’d been relieved to discover that more than one boy had survived the

massacre. Several boys and women had hidden while the battle raged. Baqir sent them on

their way, away from his village. He could offer them nothing except a little food.

He undressed and crawled into his bed, covered only to the waist with a light blanket.

Pillowing his head on his arms, he stared up at the ceiling of his tent. It wasn’t like he hadn’t

fought in battles before or gone to war with other tribes. It certainly wasn’t like he’d never

killed another person before either, but to do it because of lies and deceit was something he’d

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never thought he’d do. Almost an entire tribe, plus his best friend, had fallen to his sword

and ignorance.

So many clues had told him Asad was jealous, yet he’d chosen to ignore them because

Asad was his friend. How could he have suspected the lengths Asad would go to in an effort

to kill him? Guilt washed over him. He had fallen for all of it and deserved anything fate

decided to deliver to him.

He didn’t know at what time he had fallen asleep, but it was pitch black the next time

he opened his eyes. Lying on his side, he closed his eyes again and listened, trying to figure

out where the noise that had woken him up was coming from. A rustle of a foot over the rug

alerted him to the presence of someone else in the room.

Revenge would come that night. Good. He didn’t want to live with the guilt of knowing

how many lives he’d destroyed because of the jealousy of one man. Baqir wouldn’t stop

whoever came to plunge the knife in, though he could if he wanted to. No one had ever got

the better of him in battle or one on one combat.

The first blow of the knife drew a gasp from him and he rolled to face his attacker, even

though he didn’t plan on defending himself. As the knife came down to bury itself in his

chest, he met the rage-filled eyes of the young boy he’d let go earlier in the day.

Yes, this was the one he’d thought would come after him. The chief’s youngest son had

been too young to head into battle like his brothers, so he’d watched them cut down by the

fury of Baqir’s men. Extracting revenge against the man he knew to be responsible was the

warrior’s way.

Baqir held his arms open, neither blocking nor rolling away from the killing strikes.

After the third thrust, when he realised Baqir wasn’t fighting back, the boy pulled away, and

in the low firelight, Baqir saw surprise and confusion shining in the boy’s eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Baqir admitted, as his blood dripped through the blankets and onto the

sand under him.

“Doesn’t matter,” the boy said, his hand trembling while it held the knife. “You killed

my family. Murdered my tribe for no reason except ambition and pride.”

“I know. Nothing will bring them back and I won’t ask forgiveness for what I did.

There’s nothing to take away my guilt, but maybe my death will help you find a way to

move on from this.”

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“I’ll never forget.”

“I know. Now you better get out of here. You don’t want them to find you here when

my body is discovered.” His voice lowered as he slowly began to lose strength.

“Why didn’t you fight back?” The boy eased away towards the back of the tent.

Baqir blinked and it was like he needed to focus all his attention on lifting his eyelids

again. “You have every right to hate me. My guilt weighs heavy on my shoulders.”

“You let me kill you.” The realisation shone in the boy’s eyes.

Nodding, Baqir lifted his hand and pointed to the tent. “You need to leave or they will

catch you and kill you as well. It’s not worth it.”

His cough sounded wet and thick. The kid must have punctured a lung, considering

how difficult it had become to breathe. His chest constricted and his heartbeat slowed as

more of his blood fell to the ground.

When he managed to clear his mind enough to think, Baqir noticed the boy was gone.

The knife rested not far from where he lay dying. He listened intently, but didn’t hear

anyone calling an alarm. Good. Hopefully, the kid had made it out of the camp without

being discovered.

He knew no one would find him until the morning. When he’d gone to bed, he’d told

his guards not to bother him until first light, so unless he cried out, no one would enter his

tent. Baqir wasn’t going to cry for help. He wanted it to be over. In some ways, fighting and

death were all he knew, but it got tiring to always battle for every inch of ground and respect

he gained.

Baqir shivered as he grew colder from blood loss. He gritted his teeth to keep from

shouting out. If he waited long enough, nothing would be able to save him.

Blackness dotted his vision and he let his eyes close. He drifted along until he slipped

under and lost consciousness.

“Open your eyes.”

Baqir frowned and forced his eyes open. Blinking, he stared up into the face of a pale-

haired man. Something about the man’s eyes bothered him. He studied the stranger until he

realised the man’s eyes were pure black, with no white or pupils.

“Who are you? Where are we?”

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After sitting up, Baqir glanced around, trying to place the barren landscape. It didn’t

look anything like the desert he’d grown up in and ruled until his death.

“Wait a minute. Didn’t I die? Did someone save me?”

“Get up.”

Stiffening, Baqir glared at him. “Who are you to tell me what to do?”

“I’m Death and you are War.”

“War? What the hell are you talking about?”

“There are four of us and we keep the balance between good and evil. If the world

becomes unbalanced, we must step in to even it out. I am Death. I’m the last defence against

the end of the world. Pestilence is the first line, with you and Famine coming along after him.

We can only hope mortals listen before I arrive.”

The stranger grabbed Baqir’s arm and yanked him to his feet. Baqir stumbled, but

managed to right himself before he landed on his face. He touched his hand to his chest and

pulled it back. No sign of blood anywhere.

“Was it just a dream?”

Death shook his head. “No. A boy whose tribe you massacred really murdered you in

your tent. I need you to come with me.”

The pale-haired man gestured to where a red stallion stood, pawing the ground. “He is

yours. Come with me and I will show you what you need to do.”

“I’m not going with you.” Baqir dug his heels in and shook his head.

“You don’t have a choice. Not any more. You made it when you allowed the kid to

plunge his knife into your chest without fighting back. The moment you chose to sacrifice

yourself because of your guilt, your path as War was destined. You caused a war that

destroyed almost an entire tribe, so your penitence is to create more bloodshed in the hope

some mortal will gain the wisdom to end the fighting.”

“I still do not wish to go with you. I understood his need for revenge. I destroyed his

tribe because a person I thought I knew betrayed me.” Baqir shrugged. “I probably would

have done the same if it was my tribe massacred.”

“Hmmm.” Death didn’t look concerned either way.

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Baqir growled as Death grabbed his arm and dragged him over to the stallion. He

struggled, but the man’s grip tightened enough that he almost cut off Baqir’s circulation. His

mount turned his head to look at him and Baqir gasped.

As if the blood-red colour of the horse’s coat wasn’t clue enough, the blood-red eyes

told him the creature wasn’t a normal horse. Reaching out, Baqir rested his hand on the

stallion’s shoulder. An electric shock raced through him and the horse snorted as though he

felt it as well.

“Get on. We have things to do and I don’t have much time to get you up to speed.”

Death tossed him a sheath with the hilt of a dagger sticking out of it. “This is your tool from

now on.”

Dazed, Baqir climbed aboard the horse and settled into the saddle. The moment his butt

hit the leather, Death nudged his pale horse and they leapt into action. He gasped as he saw

the cliff they were racing towards without any hint of stopping.

“What the hell…?” he shouted as the horses jumped off the edge.

A clap of thunder and a flash of lightning blinded Baqir, and all went black around him.

Centuries had gone by and Baqir had slowly forgotten most of the life he led before

he’d died. Oh, he remembered what he’d done to deserve the hell he lived in now, but he

didn’t remember faces or names. He went by the title War, since he was the Red Horseman.

So many wars and battles. So many mortals dead because of greed or revenge.

“When will this be over?”

War stood on a cliff higher up the Hindukush, overlooking a pass. Both armies that

were fighting the ten-year long war were shooting at each other. Over the centuries he had

grown deaf to the sounds of battle, though the noise of the dying still bothered him at a soul-

deep level.

“Some form of this conflict will continue for decades more, but one side of this

particular war will be leaving soon.”

He turned to meet the impassive gaze of Death, his fellow Horseman, though not the

same one who’d shaken him from the darkness and told him his entire life would be

different from that moment on. That particular Death had moved on, to wherever Horsemen

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go when they stop being Horsemen. This Death appeared shortly before the French

Revolution.

“How do you know?”

Death shrugged, his face expressionless. He made a snake seem warm and cuddly.

“They’ve paid dearly with blood and money for a never-ending war. They will return to their

country where their own people threaten to revolt.”

As he turned back to look at the fight below him, weariness waved over War. He’d been

a Horseman for more centuries than he could remember. Battles and fighting were all he

knew. At moments like these, though, he wished he could give it all up for a lasting death.

“Go home. Ride your horses. Train the young ones. Forget about this for a while.”

Death gestured towards the mayhem going on below them. War nodded as a large red

stallion paced up to him.

He mounted, but before he left he asked, “Will this ever stop?”

“What?” For a moment, Death seemed puzzled by War’s question.

“War and the constant need to destroy each other and the world.”

The Pale Horseman looked at him with a strangely understanding glance. “Soon it

won’t matter to you any more.”

War frowned, but Death turned away, ending the conversation. It was time for him to

return to the steppes of Mongolia, where his herd wandered and he could forget about

battles for a while.

As he rode off, Death sighed. Melancholy and despair radiated from War, yet Death

had seen what was in store for the Red Horseman and what Death had said had been true.

Soon War wouldn’t care about being a Horseman. Change was coming soon.

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Chapter One

Somewhere in the mountains between Afghanistan and Pakistan

Russell’s ears rang and he blinked, trying hard to focus, but the shockwave wouldn’t let

him. His teammates ran around him, securing the perimeter and helping those soldiers hurt

the most.

All the noise came from a distance, as though Russell was separated from the action by

a thick wall of plastic. His team yelled at him, but he didn’t understand any of what they said

since he couldn’t hear. Bullets chipped the rocks close by. Yet it was the bombs exploding

around him that were causing his disorientation and temporary deafness.

He crouched at the edge of the cliff and stared down at the enemy shooting up at him.

So far Russell had been lucky and hadn’t got injured since shipping over from Fort Hood,

Texas. Unlike quite a few of his unit and other fellow soldiers who had been wounded or

killed by insurgents. Russell had three more months in the country before he shipped back

home and he tried hard not to think about anything except doing his job. He didn’t want to

jinx it.

Suddenly a numbing pain tore through his side and he wobbled at the edge before

falling off the cliff. He had no breath to cry out as he bounced off ledges and rocks. When his

momentum stopped, he lay on his back and stared up into the clear sky. When had it got so

bright? He stared up at the cloudless expanse of blue. He tried to grip his gun closer to his

chest. A soldier should never be without his weapon. Russell’s hand didn’t want to

cooperate.

Unable to yell or move, Russell Heinz contemplated his death, half a world away in a

war he wasn’t sure he believed in any more. Oh, he believed in his duty to his country, but

he’d fought so long without rest and he wasn’t entirely sure the people he was fighting to

free really cared about freedom.

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Russell hoped his parents wouldn’t take the news too badly. The army had been a way

to get out of the small town he’d been trapped in and he’d liked most of the experience,

except for the killing part. He’d done his best to reconcile that so that he could function.

The noise of the battle faded, causing Russell to wonder if he was drifting into

unconsciousness or if the fight had moved away from where he’d fallen. Either no one had

noticed his fall or they’d assumed he was dead and had no way of retrieving him from the

ledge.

Pain swamped him and he bit his lip clean through, not wanting to yell and alert the

enemy. Maybe he should have, though, because they might have been merciful and killed

him quickly, which would be better than the lingering death he’d condemned himself to by

falling off the cliff above.

As the sun inched across the sky and all he heard around him was the wind, Russell

began thinking about his life. At twenty-five, he should’ve been far more experienced than he

was. While he’d seen some of the world as a soldier, he’d never really lived. He’d tended

towards being quiet and introverted instead of outgoing, so he only had a few close friends.

Even those few didn’t know Russell was gay. He hadn’t wanted to involve them in the

whole ‘Don’t ask, don’t tell’ issue. The idiotic law might have been repealed, and all the troops

trained in the political correctness of accepting gays in the military, but Russell hadn’t been

about to risk his career or those of his friends by blurting out his sexual preferences. Illegal or

not, it would take more than a silly repeal to get people to accept the truth about him, so

Russell had chosen to keep his mouth shut.

It wasn’t as if he’d had anyone special to come out for, anyway. He had hoped that after

he’d left his hometown it was going to get easier. Should have known it wouldn’t be that

simple. He’d hooked up a couple of times when he’d been on leave and had headed towards

the nearest big city to lose himself in a crowd. At least he wasn’t going to die a virgin.

Russell snorted and nearly passed out from the pain the action caused. Hell, did he

have broken ribs? What else had he broken when he’d fallen? Probably his back and shit. It

would suck if he lived through this day. Not that he believed he would.

Internal bleeding would probably be what killed him, though the wound in his leg still

bled sluggishly. He could feel the warm trickle of blood down his thigh under his uniform.

When he breathed deeply, it felt like someone was sticking a hot blade into his lung. There

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wasn’t any coming back from this injury. Russell wished he could talk to his parents one last

time and tell them how much he loved them.

They weren’t worldly people, having lived all their lives in the same town growing up

only blocks away from each other before marrying and settling down. Yet they’d understood

and hadn’t tried to stop him when he’d left. They might even have suspected the main

reason he’d hightailed it out of town as soon as he’d graduated, but, like the military, it

wasn’t something they asked or talked about. He’d imagined how shocked they would’ve

been if he’d brought a man home to meet them. Now it would never happen and his heart

ached with the knowledge that he’d never be able to fall in love. Searing pain ripped through

him but he didn’t have the energy to fight it.

His eyes rolled back in his head and he let go, hoping the pain would ease when he

woke.

The sun shone on his left side as he swam to consciousness again and opened his eyes.

The pain throbbed throughout his body, but it wasn’t the sharp stabbing kind from before.

Maybe his wounds weren’t as bad as he’d thought, or maybe he was shutting down because

they were life-threatening.

Russell rolled his eyes. Of course, he’d die from his injuries if someone didn’t find him

soon, and he didn’t hold any hope that his fellow soldiers would be able to make their way

back to him. The entire mountainside crawled with enemy fighters and they took pleasure in

killing the foreign soldiers who’d come to their land to force democracy on them. At least,

Russell figured that was how they felt.

How long had he been out? He couldn’t tell by the position of the sun. Never learnt

how to tell time that way. Russell couldn’t lift his arm to check his watch. Every inch of his

body hurt, but seemed numb at the same time. At least it wasn’t directly overhead, beating

down into his eyes.

The air around him hung heavy and arid in the dirt-scented air. Heat rose around him,

slowly baking him. He didn’t have any shade or cover from the relentless sun. Russell

swallowed, trying to ease the dryness in his throat.

Not a sound reached his ears, as if all the creatures that called the mountain home had

fled before the vicious fighting. How long would it take for the animals to return? Would

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they ever feel safe in their own territory again? Would they feast on his flesh after he’d died?

At least he’d be able to help keep the animals alive.

Closing his eyes against the bright sunlight, he listened to the quiet and breathed,

slowly slipping into a meditative state. The pain backed away like a faint memory of hurt.

Russell allowed his mind to wander, but a scrape of a boot on stone caused his eyes to pop

open.

Should he shout out to see if anyone was around? What if it was the enemy, searching

for wounded soldiers, either to kill or capture? Did it matter whether they killed him or

whether he died on the ledge? Either way, it was over and he’d never see the blue skies over

his Kansas home again.

Tears welled in his eyes at the thought of never seeing his mother’s smile or hearing his

father’s laugh. Never again would his grandmother’s arms wrap tightly around him and

squeeze all the breath out of his lungs. His grandfather wouldn’t slap him on the shoulder so

hard he almost fell over.

Dying didn’t seem so bad, except for all the people he’d be leaving behind. Russell

might not have anyone special in his heart, but he did have people who loved him. Hell of a

time to remember that, just as he was about to die.

Another sound—more like a pebble bouncing down the side of the mountain. He licked

his lips and shouted. What came out was more of a moan. He doubted it was loud enough

for anyone to hear.

All those people who said their lives had flashed before their eyes when they had been

close to death had to be lying. Russell’s life didn’t flash; it wandered from one moment to

another like a horse as it grazes. His mind didn’t settle on one image as more important than

another, but he discovered each one had a special place in his heart for a reason.

From the first Christmas he remembered to the most recent one, when he was in

Afghanistan and had to talk to his parents over the Internet…Halloween and Fourth of July

parties where he might have drunk too much, but had had a lot of fun before he’d paid for it

the next day. Russell didn’t have regrets for the most part, but he did wish he’d known love

just once. Not the love of friends and family, but the love of a man who loved him simply

because he was Russell.

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He’d seen that kind of love between his parents and his brothers and their wives. Even

some of his unit mates had found love with their girlfriends. Maybe he just wasn’t meant for

those emotions. It didn’t matter any more. What he would miss was his family and the small

town he’d lived in. He’d been so eager to leave it, but now, on this lonely ledge, Russell

realised how good he’d had it back there, even with hiding his sexuality.

Russell’s vision blurred as tears welled up in his eyes. He inhaled sharply to keep from

crying again. No point in wasting water when there wasn’t anyone to see him or offer

comfort.

Hold on a few minutes more. Someone is coming.

Frowning, Russell rolled his head from side to side, trying to see who had spoken to

him. No one stood near him or above him.

You can’t see me. I’m talking to you in your mind.

Okay, now he was hallucinating, which sucked, because it meant his condition had

worsened.

You’re not hallucinating. Not yet anyway, but if your wounds aren’t taken care of soon, you will

be and you will die on this unknown ledge. That would suck.

Yeah, it would.

I’m sending someone to you. Let him help you as best he can. If you do, I believe you will live

and your life might get better as a result.

Great, now the voice in his head sounded like a therapist. Russell couldn’t bring himself

to truly care. It was just his subconscious telling him not to give up, even though rescue was

a hopeless wish.

An image materialised in front of his eyes. He blinked as it blurred once and again

before clearing up. A pale-haired man with all-black eyes stared down at him with a rather

annoyed expression.

“I would think you’d be more trusting,” the man muttered.

“Trusting of the voice in my head?” Russell coughed. When he could breathe again, he

said, “Who are you?”

“Death, but I’m not here for you.” Death glanced up at the top of the cliff. “I must go.”

Death reached out and touched Russell’s forehead. “You’ll think I was simply a dream

and you don’t need to tell anyone I talked to you.”

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Russell blinked and the pale man disappeared. Too tired to rack his mind about the

meaning of his vision, he let his eyes slip closed and didn’t fight the darkness swallowing

him again.

War stared down at the soldier lying on the ledge below him. Yet another dead man

fighting in a confrontation half a world away from where he’d grown up. Why had Death

sent War back to Afghanistan? There weren’t any troops around for him to trick into fighting

each other. No bullets to be fired. Simply the dead to be buried and War didn’t do that.

He made his way down to the ledge like a mountain goat. Standing, he studied the

man’s gapping wound in his thigh. It looked like it had bled a lot, but hadn’t hit an artery.

Other cuts and bruises covered the soldier’s body as well. There might have been internal

injuries from the fall the soldier had taken down the side of the cliff. War wasn’t a doctor, so

he didn’t know anything about how to take care of injuries. It didn’t matter since the man

was dead anyway.

“Who are you?”

He jerked and lifted his gaze from where it’d landed on the soldier’s wound. Bright

hazel eyes met his and he swallowed.

“I’m no one special,” he muttered.

The solider blinked in confusion and coughed. “You’re not American. Are you

Afghani? I’m already dying, so I’m not sure why you’re here. I’m Russell.”

“I’m no one important on either side,” War repeated, crouching next to Russell,

unconcerned at how close to the edge he was.

“Somehow I doubt that. What’s up with your eyes and hair? You look Afghani, but I’ve

never seen one with that colour hair.”

Russell lifted a trembling hand to point at War’s hair. War ran his own hand over the

short curls and grimaced. Before his death, he’d had black hair and brown eyes like most

people in his tribe. But being a Horseman meant that he rode the Red Horse of War and his

hair had changed to match. His eyes were completely black, no whites, irises, or pupils. They

were as black as a starless night.

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It was such an unusual combination that if he went out in public he wore sunglasses

and a hat. Thank God, the only people who saw him were Mongol herdsmen and they didn’t

ask questions.

Noise came from above them and War pushed to his feet.

“Don’t leave me,” Russell begged, wrapping his hand around War’s ankle. “I don’t

want to die alone. Please.”

War needed to get out of there before anyone else saw him. Death might have sent him

to this spot, but the head Horseman hated it when mortals spotted them. As War stared into

Russell’s eyes, the man’s fear of dying alone hit home for him. He’d chosen not to call out

and maybe save his own life. Yet he acknowledged the worry and, yes, fear that had welled

inside him in the minutes before he’d lost consciousness.

With a sigh, he scooped Russell into his arms and whistled. His horse appeared, making

the already crowded ledge even more precarious. Somehow, he managed to mount without

dropping Russell or knocking all of them off the cliff. Not that the fall would have killed him

or the horse, but Russell wouldn’t have survived it.

“Close your eyes,” he murmured into Russell’s ear.

War watched Russell do what he’d ordered before nudging the stallion’s sides. It

neighed and leapt into the air. Closing his own eyes, War heard the clap of thunder that

accompanied the leap.

The soldiers gathered in the hills around the border ducked as lightning flashed and

thunder broke in the blue sky above them. When neither rain nor clouds appeared, they

shrugged it off as another drone attack or missile strike.

When War opened his eyes again, they stood in a shaded backyard. It was obviously in

a well-developed country since he could see the gleam of streetlights. Glancing around, he

frowned because he didn’t recognise the place. He dismounted and his stallion snorted.

“Where have you taken me?” War asked in a low voice. “Are we on the other side of

the world? Is that why it’s dark out?”

The horse tossed its head and seemed to point with its nose towards the back of the

house. War had never quite figured out just how much the stallion understood. It rarely

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interacted with him, and War wondered where it went when he didn’t need it. He had

figured out it wasn’t a real horse.

Another snort and this time the horse pushed him in the shoulder, shoving him in the

direction of the house.

“All right.”

War shifted Russell in his arms, hoping he wasn’t causing more damage by moving the

soldier. He kicked the door and waited.

Barking sounded inside the house and War winced. While the dog would probably

wake up anyone who might have been living in the house, War didn’t want him bothering

the neighbours. At least tall trees guarded the backyard, blocking most of the view.

A few minutes later, a light came on over the door and War blinked in the sudden

brightness, but he kept his face visible for whoever was looking at him through the window.

The door swung open and an auburn-haired man stepped out on to the deck. There was

something familiar about him.

“War? What are you doing here?”

The slight accent and the fact that the man recognised him helped War remember who

he was looking at.

“Pestilence?”

The man nodded his head. “That’s who I used to be, but I’m Aldo Bianchi now. I

stopped being a Horseman when I met Bart. Who is this?”

Aldo gestured towards Russell. War glanced down and noticed that Russell had passed

out. Whether from pain or exposure, War didn’t know, but he did know the man needed to

be checked over.

“You’re a doctor, right?”

“Yes, but it’s been a long time since I’ve actually practised on a live patient except for

Bart.” Aldo narrowed his gaze and took in Russell’s pale face. “Bring him in. I’m not sure

what I can do to help you, but I’ll try.”

“Thank you.”

War eased inside the house, trying not to trip over the large tan dog standing in the

kitchen doorway.

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“Romeo, go lie down,” Aldo ordered and the dog left, but not without a warning woof

at War.

“Pretty protective of you,” War pointed out as he carried Russell into the kitchen.

Aldo cleared the table and gestured for War to lay the wounded soldier there. War set

him down before stepping back and taking off his jacket. He folded it to stick under Russell’s

head.

“He is, but more so of Bart.” Aldo tugged on his bottom lip while he studied Russell.

“I’m going to need my bag. I’ll go get it while you strip him. Also, put some water on the

stove. We’re going to have to wash him before I can tell for sure what’s wrong with him.”

“I can tell you what’s wrong with him. He was shot. Who is this person, Aldo?”

A slender blond stalked into the room, an unhappy expression on his face. War looked

at him and War could see how Aldo could have fallen in lust with him. He was rather pretty.

“You must be Bart. I’m War and this is Russell.” War stuck out his hand.

Bart propped his fists on his hips and glared at him. “Why did you bring Russell here?

He should be at a military hospital, not passed out on my kitchen table.”

“Bart, be nice. It’s not like War is recruiting me back into the Horsemen.” Aldo

squeezed Bart’s shoulder as he walked by. “I’m getting my bag.”

War bit his lip and fought his reluctance to remove Russell’s clothes. It didn’t seem

right to do so when Russell wasn’t awake to say yes or no. With a huff, Bart started removing

what was left of Russell’s pack. War watched for a moment before Bart sent him a

disgruntled glance.

“All right. I’ll do this while you get some water boiling or warming up. Whatever you

need to do to get him clean.” War straightened his shoulders and began unbuttoning

Russell’s shirt.

“About time,” Bart muttered as he moved to grab some pots out of the cupboard. “Why

did you come here?”

War shrugged. “I didn’t come here on my own. I mean, my horse brought me here. I

wasn’t sure where I was going when I grabbed Russell off the ledge. All I knew was I had to

leave, but I couldn’t let him die alone.”

“Noble of you,” Bart commented.

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War bowed his head. “I know what it’s like to die alone. Didn’t seem right to leave him

there to do the same.”

“Really? Is that how you became a Horseman?”

They weren’t supposed to talk about how they had become Horsemen, especially to

mortals, but War didn’t see why it mattered. Bart knew about them and he hadn’t blabbed to

the newspapers yet. All Death would be able to do was yell at him and it wasn’t like the Pale

Rider hadn’t done that before.

“Yes. I was murdered in my bed and I didn’t call out for my guards or anything like

that. If I had, I might have been saved. It was easier that no one found me until after I died.”

Bart filled one pot with warm water and brought it over to the table. He handed War a

cloth before going back to the sink. War quickly stripped the rest of Russell’s clothes off,

doing his best to be as gentle as possible. He didn’t want to hurt Russell any further. He

didn’t allow his gaze to settle on Russell’s groin. It wasn’t fair to ogle Russell while he was

unconscious.

He dunked the cloth into the warm water and wrung it out before swiping it down

Russell’s right arm. Taking his time, he washed Russell’s upper body, wincing at all the

bruises covering Russell’s chest and back.

“That doesn’t look good. Where did you find him?” Bart approached the other side of

the table and worked on Russell’s left side.

“Lying on a ledge in the mountains of Afghanistan.”

The cloth Bart had been using dropped to the floor. War looked up to see Bart staring at

him in shock.

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Why would I kid about that? Do you know many mortals who dress up like soldiers

and run around the streets of whatever city we happen to be in?”

“Cambridge, Massachusetts,” Bart supplied the town.

“Harvard, huh? I always thought Aldo was a smart bastard. The few times we ran into

each other, he seemed to have a better grasp on this whole Horseman thing than me.” War

wiped down Russell’s chest.

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“Yes, he is, and you’re right. I don’t know many guys who dress up like soldiers and

run around the streets of Cambridge. You found him in Afghanistan and decided to bring

him here.”

“No. I already said, my horse brought us here. I didn’t know where I intended to go

when I got on the silly beast. Thing’s scary when it wants to be.” War rinsed his cloth. “I’ve

been in that part of the world off and on for the past ten years. I came across Russell when

Death sent me back there once again. Like I said, I couldn’t just leave him there to die. I

snatched him up and took off. Ended up here. I didn’t know where Aldo had gone after he

left the group.”

“You make it sound like a rock band or something,” Aldo joked as he strolled in,

holding a canvas bag in his hand.

War winked at his former comrade. “Maybe we should think about doing something

like that. Guess we should figure out if any of us can sing first though.”

“You’re an idiot.” Bart cleared off the counter closest to the table for Aldo to set his stuff

on.

“So I’ve been told many times. Do you think you can help him, Aldo?” War couldn’t

help brushing a lock of Russell’s sweat and grime-covered hair off his forehead. “I’d hate to

think I bothered you for no reason.”

Aldo touched War’s hand, and for the first time War noticed that Aldo wasn’t wearing

his usual pair of gloves, since as Pestilence, Aldo passed diseases though his touch. Aldo was

well and truly free of being a Horseman. He covered Aldo’s hand with his own and smiled at

his friend.

“I’m glad you got out, and, even though your boyfriend seems a little grumpy, I’m glad

you have him to come home to every night.”

“Hey, I resent that. I wouldn’t be grumpy if you didn’t come here and wake me up in

the middle of the night,” Bart protested.

“Will both of you be quiet? I need to check him over.” Aldo snapped on some gloves

and went to look at Russell’s leg wound first.

War and Bart took their pots to the sink, dumping out the bloody, dirty water while

Aldo poked and prodded Russell. The injured man didn’t wake up, and War didn’t know if

his continued unconsciousness was good or not.

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“Bart, boil up some of the leaves from the red pouch in my bag, then mash them up

with the leaves from the green pouch. I’ll make a poultice for his wound. I don’t have the

supplies to sew it up. It’s a clean through-and-through. It looked like there was a lot of blood,

but from what I can see the bullet didn’t hit anything vital.” Aldo looked up at War. “You

should have taken him to a hospital.”

He nodded. “I know that and I’ll do that when you’re done with him. The horse

brought us to your house. Even if I had thought of you, I wouldn’t have brought Russell

here. No offence, Aldo, but he needs to see a practising doctor.”

Bart snorted while he worked on making up the poultice. “He does practise medicine,

just not the kind that could help you. He’s the leading infectious diseases authority in the

world.”

“Good for him.” War refrained from rolling his eyes. “I appreciate everything you’re

doing, both of you. Just make sure his injuries aren’t life-threatening, patch him up, and I’ll

take him to an hospital. Why hasn’t he regained consciousness?”

“I think the trip you took from the mountains to here probably overwhelmed his

already compromised system. His mind couldn’t handle any more, so it sort of checked out.”

Aldo shook his head. “I know whenever I rode my horse I never remembered the trip. It’s

like we black out ourselves and the horses can take us wherever they want.”

“I’ve been lucky enough that mine usually takes me home,” War joked.

Silence filled the air while Aldo finished taking care of Russell. After the bandaging had

been completed and since the internal injuries needed to be seen at a hospital, War swept

Russell up in his arms and walked outside.

His stallion stood in the shadows of the trees, staring intently at him as he stalked

across the yard. Their eyes met and War didn’t blink.

“This time take me to a field hospital, not a former Horseman. Russell needs actual

medical care.”

The horse snorted, but War didn’t know if it was in agreement or if it was just reacting

to his tone. Aldo followed him.

“Hand him to me and I’ll hold him while you mount.”

War did it and took Russell back in his arms after he’d settled in the saddle. He stared

down at Aldo, the ex-White Horseman.

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“I appreciate everything you’ve done for us, Aldo. Tell your partner I thank him. I’m

happy for you. Enjoy your life. You deserve it.”

Aldo reached up and rested his hand on War’s forearm. “You deserve to be happy,

War. Trust me when I say you’ll find it soon.”

War grinned, but there wasn’t any humour in his smile. Of all the Horsemen, he

deserved to be happy the least. He’d killed a tribe of people on the strength of the lies of his

best friend. No one should have a good life after that.

“Maybe I’ll see you again some time.”

Aldo stepped back and the horse reared before leaping into the sky. Thunder shook the

quiet neighbourhood and a flash of lightning bathed the houses in silver beams for an

instant.

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Chapter Two

The sound of shoes squeaking on a floor startled Russell and he shot up in the soft bed.

Bed? He glanced wildly around, trying to figure out where he was. Obviously, he wasn’t still

on the ledge out in the mountains. There were walls and floors. He lay in a bed with sheets

and pillows.

Looking down, he realised he wore boxers, but no shirt. Bruises covered and marred his

chest while a pristine bandage was wrapped around his left thigh.

How had he got to the room? The last thing he remembered was looking up into the

black eyes of a red-haired man crouched next to him. He remembered pleading with the man

not to let him die alone. Maybe the man had brought him here, or maybe he was still

dreaming.

Someone entered the room and Russell looked up to find a nurse standing at the foot of

his bed. She flipped through his chart before smiling up at him.

“I see you’re finally awake. We were starting to get worried.”

He frowned. “Where am I? How long have I been out? How did I get to wherever I

am?”

Laughing, she held up her hand to stop the outpouring of questions. “Whoa. Take it

easy, soldier. All answers shall be revealed in time. First I have to ask you. What’s your

name? Do you know what year it is?”

“My name is Russell Heinz. I was born in Kansas on August 24th, 1986. It’s 2011 and

Obama’s President.”

“Good to know nothing is wrong with your memory. My name’s Mari and I’ll be taking

care of you this shift.” She checked his vitals before lifting the sheet to poke at his bandage.

“The only thing I don’t remember is how the hell I got here and you still haven’t told

me where here is.”

“You’re in Landstuhl, Germany, and in the hospital here. I’m not sure how you got

here, but I’ve been on vacation for a week or so. Since I’ve been back, no one’s told me

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anything about where the new arrivals came from, though I assume you were wounded

somewhere in Afghanistan.”

He nodded, but confusion reigned while she finished updating his charts. Mari smiled

at him.

“The doctor will come in and check you out. Then we’ll see about getting you some

solid food. It’s been a few days since you’ve eaten, I’m sure.”

Russell’s stomach chose to grumble right then, and they both chuckled. Mari left and

Russell leant back, closing his eyes while he tried to figure out how the hell he’d got to

Germany from Afghanistan without ever waking up or having any kind of knowledge that

he’d been flying.

Where had the red-haired man come from? One minute there hadn’t been anyone

around. The next thing he knew, an unusual-looking man had been crouching over him.

Black eyes, bright red hair, and a timeless look about him in his leather leggings and tight

vest. He wore a dagger strapped to his right thigh. Dark skinned with scars marring his chest

and arms. The man had been a warrior, but not one Russell had ever come across before. He

definitely didn’t look like the Hillmen the army had fought against during Russell’s latest

tour.

After he’d begged not to be left to die on his own, the stranger had whistled and a red

horse had appeared on the ledge as well. Russell had thought their combined weight would

bring their perch down, but it was as though the man and animal had weighed nothing. The

warrior had swept Russell up in his arms and mounted the horse.

‘Close your eyes’ played through Russell’s mind in an accent he didn’t recognise. It was

definitely foreign, but not one he’d heard before. Closing his eyes was the last thing he

remembered until he’d woken up in the hospital.

“Sergeant Heinz, it’s nice of you to join us.”

He opened his eyes and studied the man strolling briskly into his room.

“You must be the doctor,” Russell commented as the man pulled out his chart and

checked it.

“I’m Doctor Simpson. What gave me away?” Simpson’s tired brown eyes sparkled for a

moment.

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“The white coat. Bags under your eyes, and the way you rushed in here like you’re an

hour late for an important meeting.” Russell shrugged when Simpson raised an eyebrow at

him. “All the doctors I know act that way.”

“Ah, it’s an occupational hazard I guess.” Simpson tugged the sheet off Russell’s lap

and started to peel off the bandage. “Do you know you arrived here at the hospital with a

very professional bandage around your thigh?”

“No, I didn’t know that. To be honest, I don’t remember much after getting shot and

falling down the side of the mountain.”

Simpson studied the stitches and the area around the wound. “Yeah, we were kind of

worried when you didn’t wake up. You’ve been here two days and nothing until just now.

Not sure what happened. I couldn’t find any sort of bruise or lump on your head to explain

it. Also, there was some strange kind of poultice on your wound, like folk medicine or

something. We sent a sample to the lab for them to figure out what was in it, but they

couldn’t find anything known.”

Russell bit the inside of his mouth to keep from crying out as Simpson touched his

tender flesh. The doctor continued talking, but Russell blocked him out while he tried to

keep from being swamped by the pain.

“We’ve been wondering who might have found you. Your unit said you disappeared

during a mission for over twenty-four hours. Then your CO walked out of his tent and there

you were, lying unconscious, but still alive.” Simpson replaced the gauze and covered

Russell back up. “Someone must have found you and known where to take you.”

“I don’t remember anything.”

He wasn’t about to admit seeing the red-haired man. Not if it meant he’d have to spend

more time in the hospital. Hell, he’d only been awake for thirty minutes and he wanted to

leave already.

“I don’t suppose you would.” Simpson finished his evaluation and scribbled something

down on Russell’s chart. “I’ll be back to see you tomorrow morning. Your injuries aren’t life-

threatening any more, but they do need some time to heal. You’ll be back with your unit in a

month.”

“Thanks, Doc.”

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Russell settled back in his bed and let his exhaustion wash over him. As he slipped off

to sleep, he thanked God for not letting him die. It didn’t matter who had saved him or how.

All that was important was the fact that he was alive. Tomorrow he’d ask if he could call his

parents. It would be good to hear their voices.

Night had fallen when Russell opened his eyes next. The room was dark and the

hallway dimly lit. The only sounds he could make out were from the machines hooked to his

body. He stared up at the shadowy ceiling, working out in his mind again where he was and

why. What had woken him up?

The sensation of someone staring at him finally got him to turn his head. A figure stood

in the corner of his room. Who would be standing there, watching him like that? He reached

out to grab the call button. He hoped it wasn’t anyone dangerous, because he didn’t want to

get the nurses hurt.

“Don’t.”

Russell frowned as the heavily accented command was issued from the dark. His hand

hovered over the button, but he didn’t push it. Something familiar about the voice tickled his

memory.

“I came to see how you were doing.”

“Come out in the light where I can see you,” he suggested.

The stranger shook his head. “It’s best you don’t see me.”

Putting his hands down, Russell levered himself to a sitting position, but not without

pain. The shadow rushed from the corner to operate the bed, making it come up to support

him. Causing himself pain to get the man to move wasn’t the best idea Russell had ever had,

but it had worked.

“It’s you,” he gasped, as the man’s red hair gleamed like fireworks in the night sky.

“Shit. You weren’t supposed to remember me,” the man muttered as he slipped back

into the darkness.

“Right. I might have been injured and sure I was going to die, but there’s no way I was

going to forget you. I’ll admit I thought I’d imagined you, though.”

The man snorted. “I get that reaction a lot from people who actually see me.”

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“Actually see you? What are you, like the Angel of Death or something?” Russell

shifted in the bed, grimacing as the ache from his wound grew.

“Something like that.” The man eased closer, still sticking to the corner where he

couldn’t be seen.

Russell hoped his nurse didn’t stop by on her nightly rounds. For some reason, he

didn’t want his visitor to leave him. It didn’t matter that the man was a complete stranger or

that they’d never talked except for once before on the mountain.

“The doctor said when I showed up at my base in Afghanistan I had some strange

poultice on my wound. They figured it was some kind of folk remedy.”

Bracing a shoulder against the wall, the man folded his arms over his chest and

chuckled. “Did they figure out what it was made of?”

“No. It’s a puzzle and I can’t help them because I wasn’t awake for it. What do I call

you?”

“Call me whatever you like.”

Russell heard the shrug and the evasion in his voice.

“Okay, so Red, do you know where the plants came from that made up the poultice?”

He grinned at the huff of annoyance Red gave at Russell’s nickname for him.

“I can’t say I’m happy with Red,” he admitted.

“Then tell me your name or I’ll just keep calling you that. What did you expect

considering the colour of your hair?” Russell picked at the frayed edges of the sheets

covering him.

“True.” Red stepped closer to him, bringing the smell of grass and heat with him. “I

have a good guess where they came from, but I’m not sure I should tell you. It’ll just confuse

the hell out of you and the doctors.”

Tilting his head, Russell tried to catch Red’s gaze, but Red wouldn’t look directly at

him. Russell wanted to see if Red’s eyes really were all black without any whites to them.

Yet, if they were, what did it mean? Was Red a real person or merely a figment of Russell’s

weary brain? Did he have enough imagination to create a person who looked like Red?

“How did you and your horse get down on that ledge with me? Why didn’t the ledge

break and why didn’t we fall off it?”

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Red snorted. “I knew coming here wasn’t a good idea. Too many questions and I can’t

answer any of them.”

“Why’d you come to visit me anyway?” Russell clenched his hands, fighting the urge to

touch Red, who by now stood right next to Russell’s bed.

Broad shoulders lifted in a shrug as Red stared down at Russell’s blanket-covered thigh.

“Not sure. You’re not the first soldier I’ve rescued. Yet you’re the first one I can’t forget.”

The confession slipped out almost as though something had forced it from Red’s throat.

Red’s entire body relaxed and Russell finally caught his gaze.

Deep and dark like a starless Kansas night sky, Red’s eyes held Russell trapped. He

sank into them, seeing guilt, fear, loneliness, and a surprising flare of desire swirling in the

shadows of Red’s gaze. Weird to think he could see all that in the blackness.

He didn’t understand the fear and the other more serious emotions floating in the sea of

Red’s eyes, but he’d been feeling desire for Red since the first moment he’d seen him on the

ledge. He thought it had been a little twisted to lust after someone when he’d been dying.

Not like he could control himself at that point, though.

A burning in his lungs informed Russell that he’d forgotten to breathe. He gasped and

the crisp warm scent of prairie grass filled his nose.

“You smell like Kansas,” he blurted.

Frowning, Red rested his hand on Russell’s forehead. “Are you feeling all right?”

Red touching him was sure to drive his body temperature up and Russell could feel his

cheeks heat.

“I’m fine. You smell like the grass plains I used to play in when I lived in Kansas. I’ve

never had anyone remind me of home before.”

Red’s touch turned into a caress as he trailed his fingers down Russell’s temple to his

jaw. “It might be because I live on the steppes of Mongolia.”

“You’re Mongolian?”

“I might be. You know there are Mongolian troops serving in Afghanistan.”

Russell shook his head. “I didn’t know that, but you don’t look Mongolian. You look

more Middle Eastern than anything.”

“Good guess. My tribe was originally from the deserts of Saudi Arabia. Most of us are

no longer nomads or Bedouin. They live in houses and go to work in buildings. They’ve lost

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their connection to the land and to their horses.” Red removed his hand from Russell’s face

and took a few steps away.

“Is that why you live in Mongolia? You can still live a nomadic lifestyle and raise

horses?”

If the man was in his imagination he should start writing books, because he apparently

had quite a vivid one.

“Are you real? I’m not dreaming or anything, am I?”

Red stopped and turned to look at him. “Would you prefer I be real or a dream?”

“Something tells me we probably won’t see each other again, so maybe it would be best

if you’re a dream. Then I won’t be disappointed about never being kissed by you.”

Russell stared in shock at Red. Where the hell had that come from? He didn’t blurt out

his attraction to other men, especially not in a military hospital where anyone passing by

could hear and get him discharged. While Red’s touch told him Red was probably gay, he

really shouldn’t have said anything like that without knowing for sure. He wasn’t in any

shape to defend himself if Red got mad at him.

Red prowled closer with a grin on his face. “We can’t have you being disappointed. It

might impede your healing.”

Russell didn’t know what to do as Red braced his hands on both sides of the bed next to

Russell’s head. Licking suddenly dry lips, Russell peered into Red’s dark eyes, trying to

discover if Red was messing with him or if Red really did mean to kiss him.

Footsteps coming down the hall caused Red to pull away and seemingly melt into the

shadows in the corner. A nurse wandered in, barely covering her yawn as she pulled out his

chart. She didn’t even glance in Red’s direction. Did she not see him or wasn’t he there any

more?

“Well, Sergeant Heinz, I’m sorry to see you awake, but I guess it’s a good thing that I

don’t have to wake you up.” She checked his vitals, made sure his bandage was good, and

plumped his pillows before strolling out as quickly as she’d come in.

He waited until he was sure she couldn’t hear him. “Red, are you still here?”

No answer. Russell sighed. Maybe Red had merely been a dream. A very vivid one

with smell and touch, which Russell rarely had in his dreams.

“Well, shit,” he muttered. “Figures I’d dream a guy like that.”

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A brush of a boot on linoleum brought his attention back to the corner and his pulse

raced as Red emerged from the blackness. The man moved with otherworldly grace and

stalked Russell. Unfortunately, Russell couldn’t run—not that he was inclined to do so.

He gripped his sheets as Red drew nearer.

“I need to go. I’ll get in trouble for being here this long and letting you see me again,”

Red murmured and leaned over Russell, his gaze fastened on Russell’s lips.

“Okay. Thanks for stopping by and checking on me.” Russell licked his lips, hoping and

praying that Red kissed him before he left.

Red pressed their lips together, and every thought fled Russell’s brain. All he could

think about was how gentle the kiss was, almost like Red didn’t want to push too hard or go

too far. Russell reached up with a trembling hand to run his fingers through Red’s curls.

A low moan vibrated between them and Russell didn’t know if it came from him or

Red. Russell opened his mouth further and Red’s tongue swept in like a conquering army to

tease and tempt Russell down a path he hadn’t been on in a year.

Coughing came from down the hall and Red pulled away. Reluctantly, Russell let his

hand drop to the bed, though he wanted to touch his fingers to his lips. Red studied him like

he was memorising every inch of Russell’s face.

“Don’t fall down any more mountains, Russell Heinz. I might not be there to save you

next time.”

Russell nodded and managed to drag up a smile from somewhere. “I’ll try not to get in

the way of any more bullets.”

“Good night, Russell. Try to get some sleep. You’ll be going back to your unit soon.”

Instead of leaving by the door, Red returned to the darkest corner of the room and

Russell swore the man dissolved into shadows. Russell rubbed his eyes, but wasn’t too

surprised. Every instinct he had told him there was something different about Red, and,

Red’s presence screamed that he had knowledge of things Russell could only guess at.

His mind skipped to what Red had said. He would be going back to his unit soon? The

doctor had said it would be a month before his leg had healed well enough for him to return

to the fighting. He didn’t consider that as ‘soon’. Did Red know something Russell’s doctor

didn’t?

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The sound of running and a commotion drew his attention to the hallway as nurses and

doctors hurried to a room farther down from his. Russell thanked God his injuries weren’t so

bad; he wasn’t at risk of losing his life. He was bruised and sore, but he would get better.

There were others in the hospital worse off than him.

God, he hated fighting and bloodshed. Why was war the only way humans seemed able

to settle their differences? He grunted as he shifted on the suddenly uncomfortable mattress.

He lowered the back of the bed and wiggled to get in the perfect position for falling asleep.

Exhaustion welled in him. He didn’t have the energy to solve the world’s problems tonight.

Maybe when he woke up in the morning he’d be able to figure out how to keep people from

killing each other, even though it was something that had been happening for millennia.

Russell let his mind drift back to the kiss Red had given him. Of course, the guys he’d

hooked up with before that hadn’t really been into kissing. They’d been into getting off as

quickly as possible. Russell had been like them, too, and he hadn’t suddenly changed or

anything, but he’d forgotten how arousing and pleasant a kiss could be. He might have to

include kissing in his encounters from now on. His eyes drifted shut as he relived the feel of

Red’s lips on his.

“You kissed him,” Death accused War as they stood in the barren meeting place.

War didn’t meet his fellow Horseman’s gaze. He stared out over the flat landscape, not

seeing any of it. He could still feel Russell’s hand in his hair and Russell’s mouth as he’d

kissed him.

Death grabbed his arm and turned to him, so they faced each other. “Look at me, War.

Why did you go back to see him? It’s bad enough you rescued him when he should have

died, but to go and visit him…? To let him see you and talk to you? What the hell were you

thinking?”

He shrugged. “It seemed like a good idea at the time. I couldn’t get him out of my

mind. I still can’t.”

“You’ve seen hundreds of thousands of soldiers killed or wounded. Why is he any

different from them?”

“I guess because he saw me. I wasn’t standing on a hillside overlooking the battlefield. I

was right beside him and smelt his blood. I saw his fear and it touched me.” War paused and

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narrowed his eyes as he stared at Death. “You sent me there. You told me the exact spot to

be. Did you know Russell would be there?”

Death snorted. “How would I know anything about one single soldier? I don’t concern

myself with individuals, only large groups of dead people. You can’t go back to see him

again. It’s against the rules.”

“I don’t remember reading that particular one in the rule book. I think you make things

up to keep us in line.” War whirled away from the Pale Rider. “Even though you’re the de

facto leader of the Horsemen, I’ve been doing this far longer than you have. I’m getting tired

of it and I wish I knew the way out.”

“You do know the way out,” Death reminded him. “You know it works, but you don’t

believe you deserve it. War, you carry a great deal of guilt in your soul, so you think being a

Horseman is fitting punishment for your imaginary crimes. Until you change your beliefs,

you’ll continue on the path you walk now.”

Russell might intrigue him, but, if the mortal discovered what War had done, Russell

wouldn’t be interested in him any more. Even though he’d gone to war for what he’d

thought were the right reasons, killing his enemies had put a black mark on his soul. He’d

never really enjoyed going to battle, though he’d been a warrior all of his life. He would have

rather gone hunting for food than people.

“Stop brooding. We need to go. The war isn’t over with yet and there are battles

needing to be fought.” Death whistled and his ash-grey stallion trotted over to him.

War’s mount joined them with a neigh. He wished he could refuse and go back to

Mongolia to wander with his herd of horses, but it wasn’t possible because Death would

drag his ass off to wherever they were going. As the leader of the Horsemen, no one said no

to the Pale Rider.

He swung astride and settled into the saddle. Death kicked his horse and they leapt into

the sky. Thunder crashed and lightning streaked across the grey sky. War’s stallion tensed,

ready for the order to go.

Staring one last time out into the wasteland, War fought the urge to stay where he was.

Nothing existed in the land where the Horsemen met. No plant life or animals, yet in a

solitary, serene way, it soothed him. Much like the steppes he lived on, though his home was

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covered in grass. It also reminded him of his ancestral land, though it had been sand and

heat, but it had been isolated like this.

“Where is this?” he asked his horse, not expecting any sort of answer.

“It’s the world between the worlds.”

He jumped at the unexpected voice. Glancing around him, he didn’t see anyone. “Who

said that?”

“I did.” His horse looked back at him with a suspicious twinkle in his blood-red eyes.

“You can talk? Why didn’t I know that?” He tightened his grip on the reins.

The stallion shook his head. “Yes, I can talk, but only here in this world. You didn’t

need to know. I have nothing to contribute to your adventures. I’m merely here to provide

transportation.”

War chuckled. “I have so many questions.”

“We don’t have time for the answers. We must go before Death comes back for us. He

doesn’t like being ignored or dismissed.”

“Can all of you talk?”

Lifting his head up and down, the stallion neighed. “Yes, but we choose not to, even to

our own riders. Now let’s go.”

Without any encouragement from War, the stallion leapt into the air and disappeared.

Thunder rolled through the arid land.

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Chapter Three

Russell grimaced as sand irritated his skin under the collar of his T-shirt. He tried to

brush it off, but the sweat trickling down from his head gave the sand something to stick to.

He felt like he was taking a mud bath. The scar on his thigh itched as well, but he couldn’t

reach that.

“Aren’t you glad you came back for this?”

He looked up to see Jimmy, his closest buddy in the unit, standing next to where he was

crouching.

“Not really, but since they didn’t give me an option, I guess I’m stuck.”

Jimmy snorted. “We’re all stuck in this godforsaken place until someone decides to get

us out of here or we rotate home.”

“True.” He gestured to the sandy spot beside him. “Why don’t you take a load off for a

little bit? You’re not on patrol or guard duty, are you?”

“Nope. Just got tired of sitting in one spot. Needed to move.”

Jimmy knelt next to him and settled his shoulder against the rock wall Russell was

using to protect himself. His friend stared out over the terrain, trying to see if any enemy

soldiers had crept up on them.

“What was it like?” Jimmy kept his question low, so none of the others around them

could hear it.

“What? Getting shot?” Russell didn’t want to relive those moments after the initial hit.

“Yeah. I’ve been shot at. Hell, all of us have, but not many of us have been hit. Our

unit’s been pretty lucky, all things considered.” Jimmy sighed. “Something’s telling me our

luck is about to run out.”

As much as Russell wanted to say no, it isn’t, he couldn’t. The same impending doom

was growing each day he watched the sun rise over the mountains. Something was going to

happen and, no matter how hard he tried to, he couldn’t shake the worry.

“It hurts a lot, but not initially. I think I was in shock until after I’d landed on the ledge.

Once I’d got my breath back, everything started to ache.”

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He remembered the panic and fear of dying that had swirled inside him as his blood

had dripped from his wound. How he’d discovered how much he missed his parents and the

small town he’d lived in. He’d got a chance to talk to them while he was in the hospital. His

mother had cried and he could tell his dad had got choked up as well, but his heart had been

happy to hear their voices again.

“Were you scared? I feel bad, man. We didn’t realise you weren’t with us until after

we’d moved out of the area. Insurgents were all around us and there wasn’t any way we

could go back in to rescue you, especially since we didn’t know if you were even alive.”

Russell reached over and patted Jimmy’s shoulder. “No hard feelings, dude. The entire

unit is more important than one man. I didn’t expect you to put yourselves in danger to save

me. I was scared to death, mostly of dying alone more than the dying itself. I don’t think

anyone wants to be by themselves when it’s time to leave their mortality behind.”

“Who knew you had such deep thoughts?” Jimmy teased.

Chuckling, Russell shrugged. “I didn’t have anything to do but think while I lay on that

ledge. You start to look at things differently when you know you only have a few hours left

to live.”

Thunder rolled, causing Jimmy to duck. Russell didn’t react. He’d grown used to the

thunder and lightning rebounding through the mountains. Afghanistan didn’t have a rainy

season or anything, and the locals had reported how unusual it was. He tensed because he’d

noticed a pattern over the course of the weeks he’d been back with his unit.

“We should probably get ready. There’ll be an attack shortly.”

Jimmy shot him a glance. “How do you know that?”

“It’s something I’ve noticed over the last couple of weeks. Within an hour or so of the

thunder, the insurgents usually launch an attack. Not sure why. It’s obviously not a signal or

anything, but it’s happened too often for me not to notice it.” He looked over his shoulder

and spotted his CO waving his arms to catch the attention of the entire unit. “Apparently,

others have seen the pattern as well.”

“Great,” Jimmy muttered, unhappiness flashing over his face. “I’d hoped we could get

through the rest of our tour without any major confrontation.”

“We still might. It might not be our position being attacked this time.”

The scepticism in Jimmy’s face mirrored how Russell felt.

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“It was worth a try.”

They laughed while keeping their eyes peeled for any movement. A horse and rider

appeared on the crest of the summit above them. Russell started to draw Jimmy’s attention to

it, but the sun reflecting off the horse’s bright red coat froze him. Was it Red? Why would he

be out there in the middle of a potential fight? Whose side was he on?

How had the man got from Afghanistan to Germany to visit Russell? Maybe he was

part of a Special Forces team living off the land and in the local villages. It could explain why

Red had been in the vicinity when Russell had been hurt.

As if Red knew Russell was down there staring up at him, Red raised his hand in

acknowledgement before disappearing. Russell blinked and looked again. Yeah, Red had

disappeared. Not moved back away from the edge of the summit so no one could see him—

but gone like a puff of smoke into the air. Thunder shook the mountain and Russell almost

stopped breathing.

Did Red have a connection with the thunder? Russell remembered hearing thunder as

Red’s horse had jumped off the ledge they’d found him on. Now that he thought about it,

there had been thunder the night Red had visited him in Germany.

“All right, men. Let’s get our asses in gear and get ready. The enemy should be staging

an attack any minute now. We need to be prepared.” The CO’s orders rang out over the unit.

Russell checked his rifle and ammo, making sure he had everything he was going to

need. Closing his eyes, he rested his forehead against the rock formation him and Jimmy

were hunkered behind. He took a few deep breaths to clear his mind and ease some of the

tension inside him. The upcoming attack would be the first action he’d seen since returning

to his unit.

You’ll be fine.

He jerked his head up and glanced around. Jimmy was staring out over the wall,

peering into the hazy afternoon air. No one else was close enough to them to whisper those

words in Russell’s ear.

Who are you? He thought the words, hoping that whatever imaginary voice was playing

in his head would hear it.

No one special. Just keep your head down and do your job. You’ll be fine.

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Sound advice and Russell planned on taking it. It wasn’t like he was a glory hound or

anything like that. He wasn’t even particularly brave, but he’d do his job and hope for the

best.

Another flash of red caught his eye and he took aim just as the first bullets struck the

dirt in front of his position. The fire fight was on and Russell lost track of time.

Bullets, grenades, and missiles flew from both sides, yet it wasn’t anything the

mountains hadn’t seen before. Men died and blood spilled, soaking into the sand and dirt

under their feet.

Jimmy went down, hit by a bullet. Russell called for a medic and kept shooting. When

the unit medic dropped to the ground next to them and swore, he knew it wasn’t good.

There wasn’t any screaming or any noise whatsoever from Jimmy, but Russell couldn’t take

his eye off what was going on in front of him to look.

During a lull in the action, Russell knelt and turned to see the medic swipe his hand

over Jimmy’s face, closing his eyes. Before Russell could say anything, a bullet whistled past

his ear and suddenly Russell’s vision went red.

Yelling, he dropped his rifle and wiped his hands over his face, clearing away the warm

liquid coating his eyes and cheeks. When his vision cleared, he stared at the blood staining

his gloves.

Holy shit! The medic’s lifeless body lay with a bullet hole in his head. It was the medic’s

blood Russell wore. Russell paid no more attention to the fighting going on around him. He

grabbed hands full of sand and scrubbed at his face and arms, trying to get rid of the red.

As he struggled with the panic and revulsion welling in him, he realised the horrid

colour was an exact match with Red’s hair. Why the hell did any man dye his hair the colour

of blood? Of course, Red’s horse’s coat was the same as well. What did it mean? Did it mean

anything?

“Heinz, you’re okay now. It’s gone.”

Russell didn’t listen to whoever was talking to him. He could still see spots of red

dotting his hands and arms. He was sure they marred his face as well. Rough hands grabbed

his and pinned them to his sides. He struggled and fought, wanting the mess off.

“Sergeant Heinz, stop. That’s an order.”

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Two sides of Russell’s brain warred with each other. One side told him that the CO was

right. The blood was off his skin, though it had stained his uniform. The other side told him

that it would never be gone. No matter how hard he scrubbed or what he did, the blood

would never go away.

His gaze landed on Jimmy and the medic, lying motionless in the dirt at his feet and his

mind shut down. People were talking to him, yet all he saw were their lips moving slowly

until he saw nothing but blood mixed with sand. Red and yellow swirls danced in front of

his eyes. No one and nothing existed outside the circles of colour.

Russell stopped struggling. The only thing he continued to do was wring his hands like

he was washing them. He didn’t acknowledge anyone talking to him or even moving him.

His teammates loaded him on the ‘copter along with Jimmy and the medic to fly back to the

main base.

All he remembered to do was breathe.

“What the fuck happened to him?” War shouted at Death while he gestured in Russell’s

direction. “Last time I saw him, he was fucking fine.”

Death tilted his head, studying War with an intrigued expression. “You’ve become

quite fond of modern swear words, haven’t you?”

War paused and glared at Death. “That has nothing to do with my question. What the

hell happened to Russell?”

The Pale Horseman turned and examined the young soldier sitting in front of them,

dressed in a set of pajamas. “It would seem he’s gone catatonic. I’ve seen this before in men

who fought during World War One, though most of them would be what is known as shell-

shocked. It comes from being in the midst of battle; and something happens to snap their

minds.”

Clenching his hands, War wanted nothing more than to punch Death in the nose and

make him bleed. The smug bastard stood there, so calmly discussing the mental breakdown

of the man War couldn’t forget.

When War had found that Russell had been sent stateside with an unidentified injury,

he’d become determined to find him and see how he was. He’d popped into the hospital

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room, but the only thing Russell had done was flinch when the thunder had boomed outside.

Other than that, he didn’t exist in whatever place Russell had gone in his mind.

After reading Russell’s charts, he knew Russell wasn’t blind, but was suffering some

kind of mental breakdown. He’d called for Death when he’d figured out that he couldn’t

reach Russell.

“How do we fix him?”

Death shot him an incredulous glance. “We? Fix him?”

He gritted his teeth as Death chuckled. War stalked over to Russell and crouched next

to the chair where the man sat. Russell looked at him with an intent gaze, causing War’s

heart to skip a beat. Maybe he’d remember War and come out from behind his protective

wall. Smiling, he touched Russell’s knee.

“Do you remember me now, Russell?”

“Red,” Russell whispered.

Happiness jumped in him and he nodded. “That’s what you call me.”

“Red. Blood.”

Before War could move, Russell grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled hard.

“Ow! Hey man, let go.”

“So much blood. Everywhere. I can’t get it out. It won’t come off my skin. I feel it on my

face.”

Russell started out whispering, yet by the end of the sentence he was screaming at the

top of his lungs. War didn’t want to hurt him, but he could hear the nurses running down the

hall in response to Russell’s yelling.

“Let go of him,” Death ordered.

Whether it was one of his powers or simply the tone of Death’s voice, it worked, and

Russell dropped War’s hair as if it had burned him. War scrambled out of the way as Russell

started wringing his hands and rubbing at his forearms.

“Yes, mental break with reality. Apparently, your young soldier there is like Lady

Macbeth.”

“What?” War pushed to his feet and grabbed Death by the front of the man’s shirt. “For

once in your miserable existence, stop speaking in riddles.”

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“Lady Macbeth sleepwalks in the play, and, while she does, she mutters, ‘Out, damn’d

spot!’ I think she wanted to get rid of the blood of someone she had killed. So she felt guilty,

or something like that. I can’t really remember.” Death pursed his lips as he thought. “Maybe

your soldier feels guilty about something. Or he could just be crazy. War does that to

people.”

Snarling, War shook Death hard. “He’s not crazy. You don’t have a right to call him

crazy. You like being a Horseman. You enjoy your job. I think that makes you insane.”

Death broke War’s grip on his shirt with ridiculous ease. War stumbled back as Death

advanced on him. Rarely did the pale man show any emotion, so to see him trembling with

anger shocked War. Death pinned him to the wall with his hand pressed tightly to War’s

chest.

“You don’t get the right to call me crazy or to question anything I do. You don’t know

anything about me and what I’ve done.” Death slammed his hand into War, causing him to

flinch. “Never call me insane.”

“Sorry.” War held up his hands. “Shouldn’t we get out of here before someone sees

us?”

Still vibrating with anger, Death waved his hand and a shimmering wall surrounded

them, blocking them from the sight of the nurses rushing into the room.

“What set him off?” The big blond male nurse asked the petite brunette trailing him.

“I don’t know. I was down the hall with the patient in room three-forty.” She worked

on getting Russell’s bed ready.

The blond stooped and swept Russell into his arms, carrying the struggling man to the

bed. “He’s muttering about red again. I know we took anything with red on it or in it out of

this room before he arrived.”

War winced as the man laid Russell on the mattress, and then held him down as the

other nurse strapped restraints on him. What had happened to Russell to bring him to this

point?

“Why are we putting restraints on this guy? Is he dangerous to himself or others?” She

tucked the sheet around Russell and under his arms.

“Not to others. Mostly to himself. He wrings his hands and scrubs at his arms like he’s

trying to clean something off. Background says he got injured several months ago, healed up,

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and they sent him back to his unit. His best friend in the unit was standing next to him when

the soldier got shot. As he’s dealing with that, the medic takes a bullet to the head and this

guy’s drenched in the man’s blood.”

“Oh, God.” War moaned as he listened to what had happened to Russell.

“The report said the minute he realised he was covered in the medic’s blood, he shut

down. Even though he’s clean, he keeps trying to wipe it off. Most of the time, lately, he’s

been relatively fine. He usually doesn’t react to us coming and going. His parents take turns

sitting with him, but he doesn’t seem to recognise them.”

War groaned and turned away, not wanting to see Russell like this. He closed his eyes

and transported himself to the courtyard outside the hospital. He stumbled and sat on the

closest bench. Leaning forward, he braced his elbows on his knees and stared at the ground

under his feet. Death stood near him, but stayed silent.

“What happened to him, Death?” He wasn’t really expecting an answer, so it surprised

him when the Horseman spoke.

“I told you something inside him snapped. You thought I was making fun of him, but I

wasn’t. I have seen things like this happen to men who fight in wars. Sometimes, their minds

reach a break point where they can’t take any more. It doesn’t mean they’re weak or

cowards. It simply means they’ve done enough or too much and can’t face anything else.”

“I know.” War scrubbed his face with his hands. “How do we fix him?”

He looked up as Death rested his hand on his shoulder. “We don’t.”

“But—”

Death shook his head. “I’m sorry, comrade. There’s no way you can fix this. If it’s going

to heal, it has to do so on its own. There are no medicines or surgeries to cure his problem.

Most people get better on their own, but there are some that never do. I can’t predict which

kind Russell will be.”

“There must be something I can do,” War muttered.

“Dye your hair would be my first suggestion if you plan on seeing him more.” Death

shrugged at War’s incredulous stare. “Your hair is the colour of fresh blood. Every time he

sees it, he’s going to freak.”

War snorted and pushed to his feet. “You know I can’t dye my hair. Nothing works.”

“You’ve tried to do it before? I was joking,” Death commented.

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“I know you were, and yes, I’ve tried dying my hair. You say it looks like fresh blood,

but, really, this isn’t a colour found in nature.” War tugged on a lock of his hair. “Except

maybe in the Amazon on a species of poisonous frog.”

“It’s not like you wander around in a crowd of people, War. Why would you want a

different hair colour? The Mongolians you run into don’t care what you look like.”

He clasped his hands behind his back and paced. “You would think they wouldn’t care.

Yet I stand out. There aren’t a lot of red-haired Mongolians out there. When they gather for

the yearly horse fair, I’m sure they talk about the strange man who wanders their steppes.

Hell, for some of them I’m a legend, since they have stories handed down from their

ancestors about me.”

War didn’t care about any of that, though. His mind stayed focused on the soldier up in

the hospital room. Russell might not have any physical wounds any more, but his mental

injuries were just as bad. In reality, they were even more terrifying than actual bullet wounds

because they couldn’t be seen or treated with medicine. Only time could bring about healing

for him.

“I’m going back up there.”

“Are you sure it’s a good idea? If he sees you and freaks out again, they’ll sedate him.”

“What do you suggest I do? I put him there.” War pointed in the direction of Russell’s

window.

Death frowned. “You didn’t put him there. You didn’t put any of the people in that

hospital where they are. You didn’t pull triggers or declare war on other countries. You

didn’t cause his mind to break.”

“No, all I did was stab my dagger into the flesh of a few people, and instead of killing

them, their own greed, anger, or jealousy drives them to war.”

He froze when Death gripped his shoulders and shook him slightly. He couldn’t meet

his knowing eyes.

“The dagger opens the festering areas of their souls, and forces them to do what they’ve

always wanted to do. You merely weld the weapon, but remember your guilt got you into

this situation. Until you forgive yourself, you will never move on from where you are now.

Understand that. Don’t continue to punish yourself for something caused by someone else’s

greed.”

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He made sense, but War knew it wasn’t as easy as forgiving himself when he could still

see all the bodies of the dead lying in front of him like sacrifices to an angry god. He still saw

the hatred in the face of the young boy who had killed him, and he accepted it as his fault.

Death sighed and stepped back, letting go of him. “Go and look in on him. I’d suggest

not letting him know you’re there. I have to go.”

Nodding, War stayed silent as Death disappeared. No clap of thunder or flash of

lightning for the Pale Horseman. As was often the case, Death was silent as he came and

went.

War closed his eyes and thought of Russell’s room. Within seconds, he opened them to

find himself standing in the corner, staring at the man strapped to the bed. He longed to

brush away the sweaty curls clinging to Russell’s forehead.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered and Russell’s forehead creased as though the man had heard

him.

Maybe under the drugs the nurses had given him, Russell could hear what War said. As

long as Russell didn’t see him, it might be okay for War to talk to him. Staying in the

shadows, he moved slightly closer.

“I’m told it’s not my fault you’re here, but I can’t help thinking it is. I’m the second

Horseman. When war is needed to balance the world, I ride, plunging my dagger into the

hearts of those who have the power to cause war, and try not to think of the innocents caught

up in the middle of the mess. Most of the soldiers fighting are innocent.”

War coughed to cover the sob. Stupid to do so really. It wasn’t like Russell could see

him or the tears welling in his eyes. Not like the dark-haired man was lucid enough to

acknowledge War or his emotions. Hell, emotions were probably what Russell was running

from and why he was hiding in his mind.

“You’ve got to come back from wherever you’ve gone, Russell. You can’t stay in there.

There’s so much out here for you to do and see. It’s hard, though, isn’t it? Hard to take the

first steps from fear into courage, but you’re strong. You can do it. I know you can, and there

are people rooting for you.”

Russell rolled his head on the pillows and his hands twitched as though he wanted to

move. War shook with the need to remove the restraints and hold Russell’s hands in his. He

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wanted to press his lips to Russell’s cheek and promise that nothing bad would ever happen

to him again.

Shit! What was it about this particular man that made War forget all the laws he should

follow? Why did he want to wrap his arms around Russell and keep him safe from every bad

thing in the world?

Panic danced in his heart for a second. It wasn’t because Russell was a guy. War might

have only fucked women when he’d been alive, but after living for centuries he’d learned

that it didn’t matter what sex the person was. It only mattered whether he wanted them or

even loved them. As far as he was concerned, people got too caught up in each other’s lives.

Yet this was the first time he’d ever wanted to interfere in a mortal’s life, to take him

away from all the problems and horrors haunting him and show him the beauty existing in

the world. He’d sweep Russell up and take him to his tent in Mongolia if he could. He’d

teach him how to ride and let him wander the steppes to absorb the solitary emptiness of that

place. Maybe that’s what Russell needed.

“If I could, I’d take you away from all this. Too much noise and activity. I think you

need quiet. A place no one will bother you for days, so you can work through whatever is

going on in your mind.”

War kept talking, describing his tent and herd of horses. He spoke about the vastness of

the plains he rode whenever he was home. He continued until his throat ached and the sun

peeked through the blinds. The hospital began to come alive and grow busier. It was time for

War to leave, yet he could barely bring himself to reach out and squeeze Russell’s hand.

“I’ll be back,” he promised.

Was it his imagination or had Russell tightened his fingers around War’s? Buoyed by

the perceived reaction, War left with a lighter heart. Maybe things would be okay.

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Chapter Four

Six months on and Russell was ready to leave the institution the military had stuck him

in. His mind had healed enough for him not to go catatonic every time he saw the colour red.

He’d learnt all the right things to tell the doctors to get them to leave him alone. Oh,

everyone believed he was better. Everyone except the voice he heard in the night.

Whether it was his subconscious or another delusion he’d created, the voice saw

through all his lies. Russell had shattered all those months ago when Jimmy and William, the

medic, had died. Nothing would ever fix the broken shards of his mind. Fuck, there were

still parts missing and Russell didn’t know if he’d get those back or find them. He did admit

to himself that maybe the military sent him back to his unit too earlier. They were still

fighting in the mountains of Afghanistan, and just being next to the cliffs and drop-offs had

terrified him. Russell worried the fear of falling off them caused him to freeze and that’s why

Jimmy and William died. He didn’t react fast enough to save either of them.

His imaginary night-time confidant seemed to understand the shambles Russell’s life

had become. So many nights, while lying in the dark, he’d listened to whoever it was that

spoke about the vastness of the plains and the horses of Mongolia. Russell wasn’t sure why

his mind had picked Mongolia as the home of his heart, but slowly over the months it

became the place he wanted to visit. If only to see whether or not reality matched his dreams.

His final evaluations were done and Russell sat in his room, waiting to hear from the

doctors about his mental fitness. After all the hoops he’d jumped through, they had better

damn well sign his release papers.

While staying in the hospital, Russell had made plans to travel across the world to

Mongolia. It was going to be a hard sell to his parents, but he’d do whatever he had to do to

convince them to let him go without a chaperone.

“All right, Sergeant Heinz. All your paperwork seems in order. I’ll sign your release

forms and we’ll get you out of here as soon as possible.” His doctor breezed in, smiling

cheerfully, holding up a sheaf of papers. “Do you have someone to take you home?”

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Nodding, Russell dredged up a grin, hoping the doctor wouldn’t notice that his heart

wasn’t in it.

“Yeah. My dad’s on his way up from the parking lot.”

“Great. It’s good to see you’ve managed to overcome your mental health issues,

Sergeant. I hope I don’t see you back here.”

They shook hands and Russell watched the doctor leave the room, stopping for a

moment to greet Russell’s dad.

“Glad to hear they’re letting you out of here, Russ.”

His dad’s jovial tone grated on Russell’s nerves, but he couldn’t show his annoyance.

As hard as the past year and a half had been on him, it had been just as difficult on his

parents. He’d seen the toll his serving and being wounded had taken on them. They looked

older, with far more grey in their hair than there’d been when he’d left.

“So am I.”

The nurse bustled in with a smile. “Here are your prescriptions. Remember to make an

appointment to see a psychologist closer to you.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He took the papers from her, knowing he wasn’t going to take the pills.

Russell hated how the medicine made him feel. Even while he’d stayed trapped in his

mind, at least he’d experienced emotions. Fear, anger, and guilt were only a few, but he had

grasped the fact that they existed. When he took the pills, he didn’t feel anything. It was like

he was wrapped in cotton. The world around him moved in slow motion and he was stuck in

glue.

Everyone else thought it was wonderful when he didn’t have an episode at the noise of

thunder or the colour red. Russell couldn’t explain the fact that he got lost in the medicine.

Any atom of personality or whatever made him Russell disappeared when the drugs kicked

in and he became even more of an empty shell than he was..

“I hope you have a good life from here on out, Sergeant Heinz.”

“Thank you.”

Russell didn’t bother to correct her about his rank. He’d been medically discharged a

week earlier. The army wasn’t going to risk it in case he freaked out again. If he were to go

catatonic again, the men in his unit who counted him to watch their back could die.

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After the nurse issued a few final instructions, Russell gathered his stuff and left the

mental ward. As he stepped through the doors out into the bright clear day, he vowed never

to return. He would do whatever he had to do to keep from going back there, even if it meant

lying or pretending to be okay.

“Your mother will be so happy to see you outside that damned place.” His dad grinned

and slapped his shoulder. “We need to stop at the pharmacy and get your meds, son.”

Filling the prescriptions might be a good idea. Knowing he had the medicine might ease

his mother’s mind. It wasn’t going to stop the argument he was going to have with them

about travelling to Mongolia, but it might help a little.

“I can’t wait to see her as well.”

They pulled out of the parking lot and, as he looked back at the retreating facility, he

spied a man standing alone on one of the rolling hills surrounding the grounds. The sunlight

gleaming off his red hair caught Russell’s attention. The man raised his hand in a farewell

gesture as if he knew Russell could see him. Russell didn’t return the wave, unsure if the

stranger was real or a figment of his broken mind.

He settled back in the seat and closed his eyes. Pretending not to be crazy was tiring

work. Far more tiring than he’d thought it would be. His muscles ached from the constant

tension and worry about the possibility that he would flashback and freak out.

His head pounded, not only from the lingering after-effects of the medicine, but from

the battle between real and fake. If anyone knew, they’d put him back in the hospital and he

wouldn’t be able to take it any more. Russell needed to get away from the world for a while.

Not in a ‘losing his mind’ way, but he wanted to find a spot totally different from the world

he lived in at the moment.

“Russ, we’re home.”

He woke up to his dad shaking his shoulder. Stretching and yawning, Russell stared at

the ranch house he’d grown up in. A fresh coat of white paint was the only thing different

about it. Bright orange marigolds and yellow daffodils bloomed in the flowerbeds in front of

the house. The huge oak he’d built his first tree house in peered over the roof and he longed

for those more innocent days when he could play among the limbs and forget about the

world outside.

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Russell climbed out of the car before grabbing one of his bags. His dad carried the other

one in. Stepping inside, it was like Russell had gone back in time. The scent of chocolate-chip

cookies baking mingled with the lemon scented cleaners his mom used on the furniture.

“Oh Russ, you’re home.”

His mom enveloped him in a strangling embrace. He buried his nose in her grey curls

and breathed in her familiar smell of baby powder.

“Hey, Mom.”

But it wasn’t home for him any more. He couldn’t stay there and pretend his life hadn’t

changed in fundamental ways. Russell’s mind wouldn’t let him be happy in his childhood

home.

“Why don’t you go upstairs and lie down? I’m sure this entire experience has been

tiring. The cookies will be ready in ten minutes and I’ll come get you.” His mom broke the

hug and patted his cheek before she gathered his father with a glance. They headed back

towards the kitchen.

He picked up both bags and went to his room. It showed how well his mother knew

him when she suggested he go lie down. He was tired, and simply wanted to rest for a while.

He dropped face-first on the bed. Thank God, it didn’t have that antiseptic hospital smell.

His sheets had been line dried and smelt of sunshine. Closing his eyes, he relaxed each

muscle, convincing himself there weren’t any surprises hiding in the corners. As he drifted

asleep, the image of the red-haired man appeared and his worries disappeared. Somehow,

the stranger made him feel safe. He was too exhausted to analyse why.

“Honey, wake up. It’s time for dinner.”

Russell opened his eyes to find his mother sitting on the bed next to him. She rested her

hand on his shoulder.

“How long did I sleep?” He rubbed his eyes as he sat up.

“Five hours. I know you didn’t sleep well at the hospital, so I figured it’d be best to just

let you rest.” She smiled as she brushed a lock of hair out of his eyes.

“Thanks, Mom.” Russell turned his face away from her, trying to make it look like he

was looking at his watch.

“What’s wrong, Russ?”

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Tension shoved any contentment out of his body.

“What makes you think there’s something wrong?” He hedged as he fiddled with his

watchband.

“I’m your mother, Russell Heinz. You might not have been around for a year or so, but

I’ll always be able to tell when something bothers you.”

Heaving a sigh, he looked at her. Was it a good time to tell her he was leaving?

Probably not. He should wait for a day or two, but his flight to Mongolia left at the end of the

week and he wasn’t going to miss it. Of course, telling her he was going on a trip could

convince them he really was crazy.

“I can’t stay here.”

Russell met his mother’s inquiring gaze. What did she see when she looked at him? He

was thirty pounds lighter than when he’d left. Some of the loss had been replaced by

muscles. The rest was from his stay in the mental ward. For a couple of months, he hadn’t

been interested in eating.

“Where are you going?” Her tone held no judgement, just a touch of concern.

“Mongolia.”

She blinked and he knew she hadn’t been expecting Mongolia as his destination. Her

frown told him she was confused.

“Why?”

He laughed. “I know. It’s not really a tourist destination, is it? I mean, when people

think of going on trips, they don’t normally think of Mongolia.”

“You’re right about that. Again, why do you want to go there?”

After climbing to his feet, he paced. Russell tucked his hands in his pockets as he

walked. His mother stayed where she was.

“I don’t know. During my episode, when I was mostly caught up in the shit swirling

around my mind, all I could think of was Mongolia. Of course, I didn’t know the dreams

were about that particular country. At first, I thought I dreamt about Kansas. You know, all

plains and open prairie.” He ran his hand through his hair. “When I came back to reality, I

looked at pictures on the net, and everything lead me to Mongolia, not Kansas.”

She plucked at the comforter. “You’re going alone?”

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He crouched in front of her and took her hands in his. “I have to do this, Mom. I’m not

sure why, but I don’t think I’ll be completely healed until I spend time wandering around

over there.”

His mom squeezed his hands and her smile held sadness with a hint of understanding.

“I’m not sure I totally understand why you need to go to Mongolia, but I get why you can’t

stay here. Too many memories of the way things used to be. You’re a different person than

you were when you left home, Russell. I can’t stop you from going.”

“You could tell them I’m mentally incompetent and have me institutionalised again.

But I swear I’m not crazy or in danger of having another episode.”

Okay, he was going to hell for lying to his mother. While he wasn’t crazy, he was on the

edge of falling off the cliffs in his mind. Russell held it together by the skin of his teeth. One

wrong word and he’d find himself in a sea of red. But he needed to go, so he lied.

“We’d never do that to you, Russ. You’re not crazy. I don’t ever want to hear you say

that word again. When would you leave?”

As he stood, he glanced around to locate his small duffle bag. He grabbed it and dug

through the clothes until he found his laptop and the folder holding his itinerary. Russell

handed the folder to his mother.

She read the time for his flight out of Kansas City and sighed. “You’re leaving in four

days.”

“Yes. As soon as the doctor told me I could be released today, I went online and booked

my flight. The sooner I can leave, the sooner I can decide what to do with the rest of my life.”

It wasn’t a total lie. Russell hoped, after clearing his mind of the overwhelming need to

see Mongolia, that he’d be able to focus on his future.

His mother sighed and set the folder aside. “Like I said, we can’t stop you from going.

I’ll talk to your father and we’ll give you a ride to the airport.”

“Thanks for not making this difficult for me.” Russell hugged her.

“You were planning on arguing with me until the day before your flight, weren’t you?”

She patted his cheek. “Russell, I might not like the idea of you travelling in some foreign land

without anyone else with you, but you’re an adult and have the right to do what you want.

Now let’s go have some dinner.”

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Dinner was a happy affair with laughter and reminiscing about the past. His younger

brother and sister and their families showed up to welcome him home. There wasn’t any talk

about his recent hospital stay or any discussion of the war. His family did their best to keep

upbeat and happy for him. Was it all a show? Pretending to be normal had become the usual

act for him.

Drifting along, he didn’t comment much as they discussed things he didn’t know

anything about. While he’d been gone, he’d missed out on so many events in their lives. War

took so much away from people, not just the men and women who went to fight, but their

families who had to continue on without them.

They chatted about all the things they wanted to do with him and Russell waited for his

mother to say something, but she’d apparently decided to avoid the subject of his leaving

until the next day. In a way he was glad because he wasn’t up to the shouting and arguing

that was bound to happen when it came up.

About four hours later, the welcome home party broke up and his family went their

separate ways. He gave his parents hugs before heading upstairs. After going through his

nightly routine, he climbed into bed and stared up at the ceiling. He waited for excitement or

nervousness to hit him.

He was really going to Mongolia, a country he’d never even thought about before his

injury and most recent break with reality. Now it was all he could think about, and usually

his almost obsessive need to be there would keep him up, but he could feel his eyes growing

heavy.

Rolling over on to his side, he grunted. His bed at home was softer and far more

comfortable than the hospital one had been. It was going to take time to get used to it, though

he wouldn’t be there long enough to worry about it at the moment. As he fell asleep, he

wondered if he’d dream about the rolling steppes of Mongolia again or, since he finally had

all his plans in order, would he quit dreaming of the country?

A deep breath and Russell smiled. His mind had brought him back to the hill in the

middle of the Mongolian steppes he’d begun to call his own. He opened his eyes and gasped.

The red-haired man from the hospital grounds stood in front of him. Russell stumbled back a

step.

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“So you’re a figment of my imagination,” he muttered.

A shrill shriek cut through the grass-scented air around them and the man held up his

arm. Russell jumped when a bird dropped from the sky and landed on the man’s wrist with

a hard thud.

“What the hell?”

The bird turned its golden gaze on him and mantled, spreading its wings in an

aggressive posture. It was beautiful, brown and white with a hooked beak and long talons.

Every inch of the bird spoke of deadly strength and an odd pride. If a bird had thoughts

beyond survival, this one knew it was the top of the food chain.

“I’m sorry Singqor scared you.”

Russell’s attention went to the man holding the bird. “I thought you were real.”

“I’m as real as this place is.” The stranger flung his free arm in an encompassing gesture

to include the grass plains they stood amongst.

“But we’re in my dream, so I know it’s not real.”

“My name is War.” The man bowed and the bird shifted, unhappy with the movement.

“This is Singqor. We would like to welcome you to Mongolia.”

“I’m not there yet.” Russell paused, his eyes narrowing. “I remember you. You came to

see me when I was injured, and before that while I lay on the ledge. But I called you Red and

I thought you were real then.”

War slowly moved closer to Russell, keeping the bird on the other side, away from him.

He laid his hand on Russell’s arm, squeezing gently. “I promise you, I’m very real, but it is

easier if we meet in your dreams. I wasn’t supposed to spend time with you in the hospital.

It’s against our rules.”

“Your rules?” Russell tried to ignore the heat rushing from where War was touching

him to his groin. Being attracted to a dream man wasn’t a sign of being in his right mind.

“I’m more than a mere human, Russell. Proved by the fact I’m wandering your dreams

and showing up on mountainsides.” War grinned.

While War’s smile tilted his lips, it didn’t warm his all-black eyes. Russell frowned

before jerking away from War. The bird squawked and clicked its beak at him.

“Why are your eyes like that? I don’t think I would have dreamed a guy with blood-red

hair and black eyes. This isn’t right.”

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War eased away as though he sensed Russell’s hesitation and doubt. It was obvious that

the man didn’t want to upset or startle Russell any more than he already had. Russell shoved

his hands through his hair, tugging on the ends before dropping his hands. He glared at War.

“Where the hell am I?”

“You know. You’ve been dreaming of these steppes for months now. Wait until you see

them for real. They are so beautiful and solitary. You’ll truly feel like you’re the only person

in the world.”

“How do you know I’m going to Mongolia?”

War chuckled. “This is your dream, Russell, and if I’m really an illusion of your

making, I would know whatever is in your mind.”

Before Russell could comment, War waved his hand.

“Come. Let us take a walk. There isn’t anyone out here except for us. No one will bother

us and maybe you could ask me questions.”

“About what? You’re something my brain made up. What kind of answers can you

have?” Russell asked, but found himself following War anyway.

They were in his dream, nothing could hurt him, and for some strange reason he felt

safe with War. There was something about War that spoke to Russell, telling him War would

never harm him.

“What kind of bird is that?” He nodded at the creature riding on War’s arm.

War ran his finger over the bird’s chest, smoothing the feathers there. “He’s a gyrfalcon.

Not normally native to Mongolia, but they can be found here. I use him for hunting and to

keep me company. He’s been with me for ten years, so it’s nearly time for me to release him

back into the wild. I don’t keep my birds for long.”

“He’s a bird of prey?”

“Yes.” War strolled along, seeming unhindered by the weight of the bird on his arm. “I

spend a lot of time out here on my own. It’s nice to have someone to talk to, even though he

doesn’t understand me.”

War winked at Russell, and he couldn’t help but laugh. If it was all a dream, what did it

matter? He should enjoy himself because real life hadn’t been a joy for him lately.

“You live here?”

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“I’ve lived in Mongolia for years. Centuries actually, but that’s another story and not

one you’d care to hear.” War seemed to be walking a path only he could see. “I live a

nomadic life while raising and training horses.”

“Sounds like a lonely life.”

“It’s a life I’m suited for. I grew up in a nomadic tribe, wandering the sands of what is

now Saudi Arabia. I’m used to tearing down and setting up my tent somewhere new. I like to

be alone under a wide sky like this.”

He pointed up and Russell smiled, understanding what War was talking about. There

were times before he’d left for the army when he’d driven away from his home to find some

open space where he could lie on his back and stare up at the sky.

Glancing around him, he noticed they really were the only people for miles around.

With a shrug, he dropped to his knees and then to his back. He folded his arms under his

head and studied the clouds floating above him. War stood next to him and looked at him for

a second before smiling.

Singqor’s cry echoed over the plains as the gyrfalcon launched itself from War’s arm.

War joined Russell on the ground, lying close enough for Russell to feel the heat emanating

from his body. Russell resisted the need to curl around War and absorb the man’s essence,

which was weird because Russell had never had the urge to do that with the men he’d dated.

War wiggled, bringing himself closer to Russell without making it too obvious. Russell

looked away to hide his smile.

“Will Singqor be okay?”

“Sure. There’s a stand of scrub trees a mile or two from here. He’ll go there to nap while

we talk. He’d just eaten right before you showed up. Usually makes him sleepy.” War

reached out and rested his hand on Russell’s stomach.

Russell’s muscles tensed and his cock hardened at War’s touch. The attraction

simmering between them was stronger than anything he’d ever felt. He found it difficult to

focus on anything else. Yet it was weird to desire someone who only existed in his mind.

Before Russell could say anything or react to War’s touch, War rose up, braced himself

on his elbow and stared down at Russell.

“I couldn’t resist the first time we talked. I obviously have no willpower when it comes

to you.”

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What was he talking about? Russell opened his mouth to ask, but War swooped down

and kissed him. As their lips met, Russell remembered where he’d seen War before. He

grunted and shoved the man away. Scrambling to his feet, he glared at War.

“You rescued me,” he accused War.

“Yes, I did. Why don’t you sound happy about that?” War sat up and folded his arms,

studying Russell like he was on display at the zoo.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

War shrugged. “Didn’t seem important. I thought you remembered talking to me and

calling me Red. I didn’t realise you didn’t recognise me, though it is sort of awesome you

remembered when we kissed.”

Russell couldn’t decide whether he wanted to punch War or kiss him. “Why are you in

my dream? Why were you at the hospital when I left? You’re not a part of the military. Are

you even real?”

“Real is relative. Apparently, your subconscious believes I exist.” War moved his gaze

to look over Russell’s shoulder. “I’m not part of the military. If you want to put me in a spot,

I’m part of a clandestine agency. Very top secret. Very few people know we’re around.”

Annoyance grew in Russell and he rolled his eyes. “Giving me a straight answer would

be a start to convincing me you’re telling the truth.”

War climbed to his feet and placed his hands on Russell’s shoulders. He wore an

earnest expression. “Honey, I’m a figment of your imagination. Why do you think I’m not

telling you the truth? If this is your dream world, then I’m saying what you want me to say.”

Damn, he was right. Yet Russell couldn’t help questioning it. War did quite a few things

that Russell wouldn’t have imagined anyone doing. Sure, War might not be real, but some

soul-deep instinct kept telling Russell there was more to War than being a dream man.

As strange as it sounded, Russell believed that War existed and breathed outside the

dream they were currently in.

A loud bang caught Russell’s attention. He glanced around, but didn’t see anything.

Another bang and War stepped away from him.

“What’s that noise?”

“Someone wants to talk to you.” War grinned. “Don’t worry. We’ll see each other

again.”

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Russell frowned, unsure what to do. As annoyed as he was with War, he didn’t want to

say goodbye. Yet it did sound like someone wanted him. Nodding, he watched War and the

grasslands they stood in fade away.

He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling for a moment. A knock sounded and he

called out, “Yes?”

“Russell, we need to talk.”

His father’s voice drifted through the door and Russell sighed. His mother must have

broken the news. Now the arguments would start.

“Can’t this wait, Dad?”

“No, Russell. I want you downstairs in ten minutes.”

“Yes, Dad.”

He climbed out of bed and stretched. God, he hoped he was up to the occasion, though

at least his mom was on his side.

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Chapter Five

War stood amongst the crowd at Chinggis Khaan International airport, watching the

people arriving. The day Russell had left Kansas City, War had hung out at the airport until

his plane had taken off. Somehow Russell had convinced his father to let him go. War knew

it had been a hard sell, but with his mother supporting him Russell had managed to get his

father’s approval.

After the flight had taken off, War had travelled to Africa and met up with Death and

got his orders. Another power-hungry warlord had to start a campaign of genocide on a

neighbouring tribe. He hated those the most because it took him back to the life he used to

live.

He had stabbed his dagger into the warlord’s chest, and the genocide started. He had

finished his mission in enough time to arrive at Chinggis Khaan just as Russell’s flight

landed. War tugged his cap on and adjusted his sunglasses. He wasn’t ready for Russell to

see him. Russell still believed their encounter had been created by his mind; though at times

Russell had acted like he knew War was real.

Trailing Russell as he made his way to baggage claim, War’s excitement grew. Having

Russell this close to his home brought a smile to War’s face.

“You’re too involved.”

He jumped when Death appeared next to him.

“Shit! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

Death chuckled as War took a deep breath.

“All a heart attack would do is inconvenience you. It’s not like you can die or

anything.” Death looked over to where Russell was grabbing his duffle bag from the

carousel. “I’m not sure having him here is a good idea, War.”

“It’s okay, because he’s not entirely sure whether I’m real or not. I think most of the

time he believes I’m a figment of his imagination. Then he has moments when he looks at me

and I know he’s positive I exist.” War grinned. “It’s kind of fun to mess with him.”

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“Well, that’s not nice. Poor guy’s had a lot of problems with reality lately.” Death gave

him a disapproving glare.

War shook his head. “Don’t worry. I’m going to follow him to his hotel, then casually

meet him in a restaurant. He’ll be shocked, but I’ll convince him I’m real. We’ll have dinner

and tomorrow I’m taking him out of Ulanbaatar City to my home.”

“Home? Don’t you mean tent? You’re nomadic, War. You don’t have a house,” Death

pointed out.

“Yes, I do. My tent is my house. I tried living in a true house after I’d been a Horseman

for a couple of centuries, but it didn’t feel right. I felt closed in and chained down.” War

rubbed his arms, hating the claustrophobic feeling even the thought of sleeping inside a

building created in him. “The only time I feel remotely normal is when I’m wandering the

steppes with my horses and hunting with my bird.”

Death bumped their shoulders together. “I understand. Not everyone feels comfortable

in the trappings of civilisation. I couldn’t live like you. Of course, I never lived without my

creature comforts, even when I was alive.”

“I have to go.”

War left without acknowledging Death’s goodbye. Russell was climbing into a taxi to

head to Ulanbaatar, the capital of Mongolia. The airport was outside the city. He didn’t want

to lose Russell, though it wasn’t like he wouldn’t be able to find him again.

Be careful, War. Once you engage him for real, there’s no going back for him.

I can’t help it. I’ll try to be careful and not reveal too much, War promised.

You’ve already revealed too much by letting him see you.

Rolling his eyes, War darted through the crowd and climbed into the taxi parked

behind Russell’s.

“Will you follow that taxi for me?” he asked the driver, who nodded with a bright grin

as War handed him several tögrög.

They travelled towards the city and War chuckled as he settled back on the seat. He

removed his hat and scrubbed his hair. He hated wearing hats but the colour of his hair

caused him to stand out.

The first time he’d seen his reflection after dying and coming back as the Red

Horseman, he’d freaked out. Instead of black, his hair was as blood-red as the horse Death

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had given him. He’d cut it short, but it curled, so he tended to stand out in any kind of

crowd. Not that he lingered with people.

He caused wars and fights between groups and countries, but he rarely got the

opportunity to hang out with or even talk to mortals. War realised he missed conversations

with someone who would talk back. Singqor was a good hunting companion, but he didn’t

have much to say about world events.

The lead taxi pulled in front of the best hotel in Ulanbaatar and Russell climbed out.

After jumping out, War slipped into the lobby and settled in a chair while Russell checked in.

He didn’t worry about what room Russell was in or anything like that. He’d transport

himself there once Russell was settled.

As he sat studying Russell from the corner of his eye, War noticed the tremors shaking

Russell’s hands. Frowning, he turned to look at Russell directly. Sweat beaded on Russell’s

forehead and his gaze darted from one person to another. Russell shifted from foot to foot

like he was setting himself up to run.

War shoved to his feet and moved closer. Russell didn’t even notice him, since Russell’s

focus turned inward to something only Russell could see. A flash of red from a lady’s scarf

and Russell dropped to the floor.

Russell didn’t make a sound, which made the whole incident scarier. He curled in on

himself, scrubbing his hands up and down his arms like he was trying to wipe something off

his clothes. Rocking back and forth, Russell didn’t acknowledge anyone around him.

“I’ll take care of him.” War spoke up as a crowd of tourists gathered around Russell.

“Are you sure?” One of the hotel employees asked.

Sliding his hand under Russell’s elbow, War lifted Russell to his feet and nodded. “Yes.

Just a second.”

He dug through Russell’s pockets to find his wallet.

“We were checking in. Here’s his passport and credit card. He was just discharged from

the army, and I’m afraid he’s having a flashback.”

“Ah.” The young lady at the check-in counter nodded. “I’ll process you through as

quickly as possible, sir.”

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“Thank you.” War encircled Russell’s waist with his arm, not to stop Russell from what

he was doing, but to keep him from falling to the ground again. He pressed his lips to

Russell’s ear and whispered, “Just a few more minutes and you’ll be safe.”

He didn’t know if anything he said got through to Russell while the man was in the

midst of a flashback, but he couldn’t treat him like he wasn’t there.

“Here you go, sir.” She handed him a key card. “Mr Heinz can sign the papers when

he’s feeling better.”

“Thank you.” War grabbed the key and gathered Russell’s bags before hauling Russell

to the elevator.

The people who stared were the Western tourists. The native Mongolians kept their

eyes turned away, giving Russell his privacy. Another thing War liked about the natives in

his adopted country. Privacy was very important to them and they wouldn’t be so rude as to

stare or gossip about Russell’s actions, not while Russell was still around to hear them.

The doors opened and War juggled Russell and his bags on to the elevator. After

checking the key, he punched the fourth floor button. The doors slid shut and the car began

its ascent. War let Russell sink to the floor before crouching next to him. Russell started

muttering something, but War wasn’t close enough to hear what Russell said.

Russell must not have taken his meds before he flew out. The stress of dealing with

strangers in a foreign country who spoke a language he didn’t understand might have

pushed him too far. The doors opened with a ding and War got everything and Russell

together, managing to carry all of it to the right room.

He propped Russell against the wall, giving himself a chance to access Russell’s hotel

room. After tossing the bags towards the bed, he cupped Russell’s elbow in his hand and led

Russell inside. Once the door was shut, he let go and Russell dropped to the floor again. War

sat on the edge of the bed, braced his elbows on his knees, and stared at the man curled in a

ball at his feet.

“What am I supposed to do with you, Russell?” War spoke softly, not wanting to startle

Russell if he was at all conscious of what was going on around him.

“Get me one of my pills.”

War blinked and met Russell’s troubled gaze. “Are they in your bags?”

“The smaller one.” Russell lifted his chin to point at the right one.

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“All right.” War unzipped the bag and dug around to find the pill bottles. He found

two of them and held them up. “Which one?”

“The larger one. I just need one.”

Russell sounded okay, but War noticed he kept wringing his hands or running them up

and down his arms.

“What’s wrong, Russell?”

“I can’t get the blood off. It’s all over my face and clothes.”

War reached out to stop Russell from scrubbing his hands over his face, but paused just

before touching him. He didn’t know how to handle a situation like this. He stood and went

to the bathroom where he filled a glass with water. Returning, he saw Russell hadn’t moved

from where he sat, rocking back and forth on the floor.

“Here you go. This will help, I’m sure.”

Russell held out a trembling hand for War to drop the pill on. War didn’t trust him to

be able to hold the glass, so he pressed it against Russell’s lips and helped Russell wash the

medicine down.

“I hate taking them,” Russell murmured as he leant back against the bed.

Even though Russell sounded coherent, his hands still rubbed and shook. Those

beautiful hazel eyes stared down at them like Russell didn’t know what they were doing, like

he had no control over them. Maybe he didn’t.

“Why? It seems to me they help keep you in this world.” War shrugged. “Wouldn’t you

rather stay here than fall into the blood-covered images your mind creates for you?”

Russell moaned and wiped his trembling hands over his face. “There was so much

blood. It got in my eyes so I couldn’t see. I could taste it on my tongue. Nothing I did seemed

to make it go away. Jimmy was laughing right before the fighting started. Next thing I

remember he’s lying on the sand beside me, and I could tell something wasn’t right.”

War sat on the floor next to Russell, and took Russell’s hands in his. “Seeing a friend die

is the hardest thing to deal with. I know. I’ve seen it more times than I’d like.”

He tightened his grip as Russell tugged, trying to get free.

“The medic who came over to help him called for a medevac. I turned to say something

to him and bam. He caught a bullet in the head, coating me with his blood and other stuff.

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Sometimes, I relive it all night long. I wake up, crying and wiping my face and arms down.

Trying to get rid of the blood.”

Russell shuddered and War squeezed, reminding Russell that War was with him.

“I hate the medicine because it keeps me from feeling anything. At least while I’m

losing control of my mind I can still feel fear, anger, guilt, and sadness. When the drugs kick

in, I don’t feel anything. I mean, my parents could be blown up in front of me and I wouldn’t

react.” Russell grimaced. “I don’t like that.”

Easing up beside Russell, War slipped his arm around Russell’s waist and urged him to

lean on his shoulder. Russell rested his head on War’s chest with a sigh. His hands still

twitched, but not as badly as they had earlier when the flashback first came over him.

“Is the pill kicking in?”

Russell shook his head, nuzzling closer to War. “Not yet. Your voice is taking the blood

away.”

War winced, but kept his doubt out of his voice. “I guess that’s a good thing.”

“It is a good thing. Maybe if you stick around, I can stop using the medicine so much.”

Russell sniffed. “You smell good, like home. Grass and warm summer days.”

“So I’ve heard,” War muttered.

Russell stiffened and pushed away from War, wobbling slightly as he reached out and

knocked War’s hat off his head. War made an effort to catch it, but he didn’t put it back on.

He tossed it over to the other side of the room.

“What are you doing here?”

“No.” War reached out and pinched Russell.

“Ow!” Russell rubbed his arm. “What did you do that for?”

War shrugged. “Wanted to show you you aren’t dreaming. I’m not a figment of your

imagination. I’m sorry that I made you think I was.”

As War watched, Russell’s eyes glazed over and he glanced away as if a shiny red ball

distracted him. The pill kicked in and War could tell he wasn’t going to get anything else out

of Russell. He pushed to his feet and bent to help Russell up.

“Why don’t you undress and climb into bed? You have to be tired from all the

travelling.” War didn’t wait for Russell to answer him and started to strip him.

“Wait. I need to call my parents and let them know I got here okay,” Russell mumbled.

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“Do you really want them to know you ended up having to take medicine the moment

you showed up?” War pointed out. “Your dad might be tempted to come and get you.”

“No. I don’t want him here. I need to do this alone.”

Russell fell into the bed and let War do whatever he wanted with him. After stripping

him and being good about not ogling Russell, War tucked Russell into bed. By the time he’d

finished, Russell was asleep. He leaned over to brush a kiss over Russell’s forehead.

“Don’t leave me,” Russell whispered.

Pulling back a little, War met Russell’s sleepy gaze. “As you wish.”

He took off his shirt, but left his jeans on. He wasn’t wearing underwear and he didn’t

think Russell wanted to wake up to a naked man in his bed. It didn’t matter if Russell had

invited him there. Russell wouldn’t remember it when he woke up.

War slid under the blankets. Russell grabbed War’s arm and rolled on to his side,

wrapping himself up in War’s embrace. Closing his eyes, War tried to remember the last time

he’d shared a bed with anyone. He’d spent most of his time alone, only going to one of the

big cities in the world to find company when he got lonely enough. He’d never thought of

spending the night with any of his one-night stands.

It had to have been twenty years since he’d had a serious relationship with someone. It

was easier to be alone than to deal with other people, having to lie to them about who he was

and what he did. Sometimes it didn’t matter, but if the person wanted more than a one-time

thing he walked away. After watching his last lover die from old age, War had retreated to

the steppes and ended up not opening himself up to the chance of having another lover die

on him. Of course, he didn’t remember ever making a vow out loud to stop risking his heart.

Over time, it’d been easier to walk away than to make the effort to get to know a

potential lover. Easier to deny any chance of love happening before taking a chance on losing

another person he loved. He’d never been much of a risk taker, not even when he’d been

alive and a war chief. Yet rushing in without looking had got him where he was, the

Horseman of War, and his heart didn’t seem to be listening this time to his orders not to get

attached.

Russell muttered something, but War couldn’t make the words out. He tugged Russell

closer to him and buried his face in Russell’s curls. Closing his eyes, he drifted on the sweet

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scent from Russell’s skin. He didn’t need to actually sleep. Horsemen didn’t get physically

tired, though mentally it was the most exhausting job he could ever think of doing.

As War relaxed, memories emerged to taunt him about the worst decision he’d ever

made. Images of the dead lying in piles around the battlefields, waiting for the funeral fires.

The sounds of battle and the screams of the dying rang through his head. The accusing gaze

of the boy who’d stabbed him burned brightest in War’s mind. It was the image he saw every

time he closed his eyes and the only one he could never banish with a simple shake of his

head.

God, he hated the thought of what he’d driven his murderer to do. He’d often

wondered what had happened to the boy. Had he got caught or had he got away to live a full

life with children and grandchildren surrounding him? Did the boy remember the man he’d

killed in revenge? Had anyone remembered Baqir or had the memories faded over time until

no one remembered his name?

Russell patted War’s arm. “You should sleep. I can feel you thinking so hard my head

aches. I’m sure it can wait until tomorrow.”

War snorted. “Trust me, nothing can solve my problems. I’ll try not to disturb your

sleep.”

He nuzzled Russell’s neck and placed a gentle kiss there. Russell sighed and his

breathing evened out, telling War he’d fallen asleep. War remained where he was, wrapped

around Russell even though his arm had fallen asleep and his back had begun to cramp from

the position.

The time slowly passed while he stared at the wall across from them.

“Why did you bring me here?” Lam, a messenger angel, looked at Death before looking

back into the hotel room where War lay curled around the mortal.

“Because I need War to come with me and he’s not going to want to leave Russell right

now.” Death braced his fists on his hips and glared out over the city.

Turning, Lam faced the Pale Rider fully with a snarl on his lips. “When did I become

your babysitter, Death? Do you think I don’t have anything better to do with my time than to

watch over your pathetic band of emotionally crippled Horsemen?”

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“Lam, you’re the only Lamb of God I trust out of all our colleagues. You’re the only one

who understands why this is important.” Death studied the angel who brought the

Horsemen their orders.

“Ah, you’re wrong there, my comrade.” Lam stuck his finger up in the air. “I don’t

know why this one mortal is important. Any more than I knew why the last one was special.

They’re mortals, and, while it is my job to worry about them and try to ensure their world

doesn’t come to an end, it isn’t my job to babysit them.”

Death shook his head. “Just do it, Lam. I’ll owe you a favour.”

Lam’s blue eyes lit up and he grinned. Death shifted uncomfortably at the smile. He

hated knowing he was in debt to Lam, but he could guess how much Russell meant to War

and it would be hard to drag the Horseman from the mortal’s side. What was planned

wouldn’t take long, an hour or two at the most. Both sides were ripe to start the battle, but

they needed a push and it was War’s job to provide the shove.

He scrubbed his hand through his hair, tugging on the ends as he stared into the room.

While he knew War wasn’t asleep, it was nice to see War finally relaxed enough to close his

eyes and not relive the decisions he’d made when he’d been alive. Death understood and

was glad War didn’t take killing someone lightly, but it was over and done with. Nothing

would bring those people back and War couldn’t change history.

“Will you do it? Time’s running out and if the fighting doesn’t break out in the next day

a worse battle will in another day or two. More people will die and the beginning of the end

will be upon us. Something we all fight against.”

Lam heaved an annoyed sigh. “Fine. I’ll do it. I can’t believe I’ve come to this, acting as

a nursemaid to Horsemen. If my friends could see me now, they’d laugh themselves silly.”

“Considering I know for a fact you don’t have any friends, I’m not worried about that.”

Before Lam could reply, Death slid the balcony door open and stepped into the room. A

softly spoken word settled Russell into a deeper sleep. Sitting up, War glared at Death.

“What are you doing here?”

“Glad to see I’m not the only one who reacts like that when I see him,” Lam commented

as he joined them.

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War jumped to his feet, making sure Russell was covered before moving to stand

between his friend and the two men. “Having a Lamb of God with you is never a good sign,

Death.”

“How would you know what kind of sign I am?” Lam folded his arms over his chest

and stared belligerently at War.

“What do you want, Death?”

Death could see Lam’s annoyance with War ignoring him. He heaved a mental sigh.

When would they stop acting like children?

“I need you to come with me.” He held up his hand to stop War’s protest. “I figured

you wouldn’t want to leave the mortal alone, so I asked Lam to keep an eye on him while

you’re gone. It’ll only be a few hours.”

“I can’t leave him alone. If Russell wakes up and I’m not here, he’ll freak out and think

he imagined me. His mind is fragile enough; I don’t want to cause another break.” War

glanced over his shoulder at Russell.

Death fought the need to roll his eyes. “That’s what Lam’s here for. He’ll keep an eye on

Russell and explain you were called away unexpectedly.”

War started to shake his head, and Death reached out to grab his arm.

“We’re not arguing about this, War. The sooner we get to where we’re needed, the

sooner you can get back here. I never understood why you and the others argue with me

about going. It’s not like I’m doing this for cheap thrills or anything like that. I don’t bother

you unless you’re needed.”

“It’s just that lately it feels like I’m needed all the time. When will they stop fighting

each other?” War shoved his free hand through his hair and met Death’s gaze with sad eyes.

Death shrugged. He didn’t have the answer and he wasn’t sure War even wanted one.

Lam coughed, drawing their attention. The blond grimaced.

“It’s in their nature to fight for power and money, or even just for land. It’s what having

free will has done to them. They seek to be more than they are, and for some reason they

believe hurting each other will give them what they want. It’s one of those things making

them mortal.”

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“Maybe, but it doesn’t mean I have to like what their nature makes me do.” War jerked

his arm away from Death and turned to look at Russell. “You’ll take care of him. Make sure

he knows I’ll be back and that I didn’t abandon him.”

Lam strolled over to the only chair in the room and sprawled in it, legs stretched out in

front of him and hands resting on his stomach. “I’ll do just that. Not sure how he’s going to

take knowing the guy he slept with is the Horseman of War, but if you want me to break it to

him I will.”

“No!” Both War and Death shouted while Lam smirked at them.

“Just let him think I was called away on business, which is true, but don’t give him any

other information. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” War leant down and brushed a kiss over

Russell’s forehead.

“Such a touching scene.” Lam waved his hand at them. “Get the hell out of here. I don’t

have all day to waste babysitting your lovers, War.”

War flipped Lam off before he stepped out on to the balcony. Death rolled his eyes in

Lam’s direction.

“Try not to be a smart ass when Russell wakes up. He has enough issues without

having to deal with your snarky mouth.”

Lam touched his chest with his fingers and grinned. “A smart ass? I’m never one of

those. Now get out of here. Mongolia wasn’t on my bucket list.”

Death joined War on the balcony and whistled. Their horses appeared, seeming to

hover in mid-air. They mounted and nudged the stallions with their heels. One leap into the

sky brought a boom of thunder to shake the hotel.

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Chapter Six

Russell squirmed, trying to find a more comfortable spot in the mattress. He frowned

when the sounds of movement forced him to wake up. He opened his eyes, blinking in the

faint evening light. The furniture blurred, than sharpened as his sleep-muddled mind shook

off his exhaustion and the influence of his meds.

“Ah, I see you’ve finally decided to wake up. I thought you were going to sleep the

entire night away, which wouldn’t have been a bad thing necessarily. Just really boring for

me to sit here and stare at you.”

He shot straight up in bed, letting the blankets fall to his waist. A petit blond stood by

the table, hands on hips, eyes twinkling. Shit, his eyes looked like Red’s, only blue instead of

black.

“Who are you?”

“You can call me Lam. I’m here to let you know War was called away because of work.

It shouldn’t take very long, but he didn’t want you to wake up alone. He was afraid you’d

think he was a hallucination and freak out.”

Russell scrubbed his hands over his face and through his hair, hoping to erase the last

vestiges of the drugs from his mind. “He’s real, then?”

“Who? War?” Lam chuckled. “Oh yes, he’s as real as you and I are.”

“Doesn’t mean anything since I think I live in my head most of the time lately.” He

started to climb out of the bed before realising he was naked. “Could you toss me a pair of

shorts from my bag?”

“Sure, but you don’t have to be shy around me. I’ve seen naked mortals before. You

don’t have anything I haven’t checked out.”

Lam threw him a pair of sweats and Russell slid them on without flashing Lam any

more skin than he had already seen. After leaving the bed, he headed to the bathroom. After

he’d washed up and splashed cold water on his face he rejoined Lam in the main room.

Lam sat at the table, uncovering dishes of food. “I took the liberty of ordering room

service. I didn’t get anything I couldn’t pronounce. Didn’t want to take a chance on eating

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something that’ll make me sick. When War gets back, he can give you a tour of the native

cuisine.”

Russell didn’t know what to do, so he sat and accepted the plate Lam handed him.

“You’ve never been to Mongolia before?”

Lam wrinkled his nose. “Not to knock the country, but, really, who wants to travel to

Mongolia? Not much here but grass and horses. I’m interested in something way more fun

than that.”

Taking a bite, Russell refrained from commenting on what Lam had said. He swallowed

before studying Lam. “Do you work with War?”

“Hmmm…in a way. I guess you could say I’m in a separate department from him. We

sort of do the same thing, but in different ways.” Lam chewed and reached for the bottle of

wine. “You want a glass?”

Russell shook his head. “No. Alcohol messes with my meds and I end up sleeping far

longer than I want. Where did you say War went?”

“I didn’t, and I can’t. He had to leave, but he’ll be back in a few hours.” Lam sipped his

wine. “I suggest you stay inside tonight and wait until War gets back before you journey out

into the city.”

“Why? I can take care of myself.”

He ducked his head when Lam lifted an eyebrow in doubt at him. Okay, so he hadn’t

done very well on his first day in Mongolia and he hated the fact that he’d had a flashback.

Before the war he’d been normal and able to deal with everything thrown his way. Now he

was broken in some deeply fundamental way, and maybe he was crazy to think he could

travel on his own.

“When you’re done eating, you should call your parents to let them know you made it

here all right.” Lam nodded towards the nightstand where Russell’s phone sat. “They’re

probably worried about you by now.”

“Shit!” He jumped to his feet and snatched up his phone. “I told War not to call them

because I didn’t want them freaked out about the flashback. They wouldn’t have been happy

about a stranger calling them.”

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Russell dialled his parents’ number before walking out on to the balcony of the hotel.

He looked out over the city while listening to the phone ring. What time was it in the States?

Checking his watch, he saw it was going on ten in Mongolia.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Mom, did I wake you?” Russell propped a hip on the railing and closed his eyes,

happy to hear his mother’s voice.

“No, honey. It’s around nine in the morning here, so your father and I have been up for

an hour or so.” She laughed. “He’s out mowing the lawn at the moment. Did you want me to

get him so you could talk to him?”

“That’s not necessary, Mom. I just wanted to let you know I got here okay. Landed

about five hours ago and ended up taking a nap. Probably wasn’t the smartest thing I did

because of jet lag and all that, but heck, I needed the rest.”

“Don’t worry, honey. You’ll adjust quickly, plus you just got out of the hospital. You

need to get back into the swing of things. Don’t push too hard. This call is probably costing

you a fortune. I love you and give us a call at some point to let us know you’re still alive.”

Russell smiled. “I will. Tell Dad I love him, and I’ll send you a postcard.”

He hung up and tucked the phone into his back pocket. Staring, he studied the city

around him. While it had a modern feel to it, he also caught an old-country vibe. Not like the

European cities, but in an older, more rural way. He couldn’t wait to get out and explore, yet

he knew Lam was right. He should wait until the morning before he went out.

The door slid open and he glanced over his shoulder to watch Lam stroll out. The blond

grinned as he joined Russell at the railing. The odd scent wafting past his nose reminded him

of Christmas, causing him to frown. Why would Lam smell like Christmas?

Of course, War smelt like a Kansas summer day on the plains. Yet Russell liked the fact

it made him think of home and feel safe. Those scents might have been one of the reasons he

hadn’t gone ballistic when he’d realised War had followed him to Mongolia.

He asked, “Why are your eyes like that?”

“Occupational hazard.” Lam’s tone informed Russell he wasn’t joking.

“What kind of job makes your eyes all weird? Do you guys have something to do with

nuclear waste or stuff like that?” Russell stopped and thought for a moment. “Though if you

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did, I’m not sure it would do anything to you. Probably your kids would be mutants. Did

your parents work in the nuclear field?”

Lam chuckled. “Man, I’m pretty sure War’s parents had nothing to do with nuclear

anything. And I don’t have parents, so I guess it’ll have to remain a mystery.”

Russell wanted to ask more, but the tension in Lam’s shoulders told him Lam wasn’t

going to discuss it further. He racked his brain to think of something else to talk about.

“Where do you live? I’m assuming some big city since you don’t seem thrilled to be

here.”

Lam shrugged. “I don’t have a home anywhere. I’m constantly moving because of

work. No sense in paying rent on a place I’d never see.”

“Wow. Don’t you get tired of travelling?”

“Not really. I don’t have friends or people to miss, so being in a new city every day

doesn’t bother me.” Lam pushed away from the railing. “Enough about me. Why not tell me

your life story? I want to know what makes you so special War would risk getting in trouble

to stay with you.”

Russell blushed. “I don’t think there is anything special about me. I’m just a farm boy

from Kansas. Getting sent to Afghanistan was the first time I’d ever been out of the States.

Hell, going away to boot camp was the first time I’d been out of Kansas.”

“Really?” Lam headed back inside and Russell followed him. “In this day and age? I

find that hard to believe.”

“I did want to leave, but never had the opportunity to do so. It’s not like my parents are

rich or anything. We didn’t have a lot of extras while I was growing up, but we didn’t

necessarily go without or anything like that. There wasn’t any reason for me to travel when I

was younger.” Russell studied his fingers for a moment.

Lam grunted. “Sounds like you lived in Mayberry or something the equivalent of. Was

it hard to be gay in a little town? Oh, and how did you cope while in the military? All that

‘Don’t ask, don’t tell’ bullshit.”

Russell wasn’t sure he wanted to get into all that, but they were stuck together, and Lam

had been nice enough to hang out with him while War was gone. Not that Russell didn’t hate

the fact War thought he needed a babysitter.

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“He didn’t think you needed a babysitter, Russ. War wanted to make sure you knew

he’d be back. He hated the idea of you waking up and him being gone. Thought you might

get a little weirded out or maybe think your brain had caused you to imagine him being here

with you.”

He whirled around and stared at Lam. “How did you know what I was thinking?”

The blond blinked and it was like Russell could see his thought process as Lam tried to

figure out what to say.

“It’s how I’d have felt if I were you. You’re an adult, yet War leaves someone else here

to watch over you.”

Lam was lying, Russell could tell.

“You shouldn’t lie. You’re not very good at it.” Russell strolled over to the bed and sat,

falling back to look up at the ceiling. “I’ll let you get away with it for now. Just don’t do it

again.”

“What? Lie or read your mind?”

“Both. Either.” Russell waved his hand in a vague gesture. He went back to what Lam

had asked him earlier. “How did I handle being gay in small town America? The same way I

handled being gay in the army. I didn’t do anything that would out me to anyone. I was a

virgin until I went to boot camp. After that, it was easier to find guys to mess around with,

and they were like me. Hiding who they really were to make sure they didn’t get discharged

under DADT. I’m not saying it was fun or anything like that. In fact it was pretty lonely, but

not much I could do about it if I wanted to keep serving.”

He listened to Lam wander around the room, picking things up or maybe moving

things.

“I don’t have to worry about it now. A medical discharge is better than a dishonourable

one any day.” He sighed. “See? There’s nothing special about me. I have no idea why he

keeps helping me.”

Lam laughed. “I’m sure there’s more to you than a small town hick hiding in a closet.

War’s been around too long to fall for that kind of guy.”

Russell frowned. “Too long? How long is too long? And fall for a guy? I don’t think he’s

interested in me like that.”

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Then he thought about the kisses they’d shared. His cheeks burned with

embarrassment and desire. Lam snorted, letting Russell know Lam had seen the blush and

knew what caused it.

“Oh yeah, I do believe War has fallen for you. We’ve been around long enough to

realise it’s the person, not the body, we find fascinating. I’m sure he wants your body, but it

doesn’t matter to him whether you’re a guy or a girl.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Russell mumbled. “How old is he? Or you for that matter?”

“War isn’t as old as I am, and that’s all you’re getting from me.” Lam sat on the bed

next to Russell. “I think you should get some sleep. It’ll help with the jet lag and when you

wake up War will be back.”

Russell opened his mouth to say he wasn’t tired, but a yawn surprised him. Blinking, he

met Lam’s steady gaze. The blue seemed like it was starting to swirl. Russell fell into those

eyes and the last thought to cross his mind was that Lam couldn’t be human.

Whispering woke Russell up, but he kept his eyes closed as he worked on figuring out

who was in the room with him. When the voices rose, he recognised both Lam and War.

“Did you tell him anything about where I was?”

“Do you think I’m an idiot? What could I have told him? You were off starting another

war in some third-world country. Do you really think he’d have believed me?” Lam sounded

outraged.

War grunted as if Lam had hit him. “I’m not sure you want me to answer that. I

wouldn’t put it past you to make some comment like that.”

“Of course I didn’t say anything. I’m not a complete fuck-up who’s risking everything

by falling in love with a mortal.”

“What? I’m not falling in love with him. I just see a lot of myself in Russell, that’s all.”

“Right. And I’m really Morningstar.”

“Don’t joke about him, Lam. You know he has ears everywhere and he’d love to get his

hands on you.” War’s voice held fear.

Who was Morningstar? Why would he want to get hold of Lam? Who were they?

Russell had the oddest feeling that none of them was human. Maybe it was their weird eyes,

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or the comments they’d made while talking to him, yet he found he wasn’t worried about

them not being human. Stupid, but he felt safe with all of them.

“Don’t worry about Morningstar. He hasn’t left his cave since He threw them out.

Getting back to the real topic of conversation, if you don’t love him now, you will soon

enough.”

“Now you can see the future?” Annoyance coloured War’s words.

“Only when it comes to obnoxious Horsemen. Now I have to get back to what I was

doing before Death interrupted me. I hope he doesn’t make it a regular habit. Of course,

there’s only two of you left who haven’t found your redemption. Is Famine next?”

“Get out of here. I know I won’t bother you again. You’ll have to talk to Death about

what his plans are.”

A door opened and shut. Russell couldn’t make up his mind whether he should

continue pretending to be asleep or act like he’d just woke up. His bladder made the decision

for him. He jumped to his feet and rushed to the bathroom.

After taking care of business and cleaning up, he stepped from the other room and met

War’s curious gaze.

“How long were you really awake?”

“Ummm…not very long.” He eased over to the bed and sat on the edge, fidgeting with

the frayed hem of his T-shirt.

War’s low hum told Russell War didn’t believe him. He took a breath and looked up,

meeting those black eyes.

“What are you? I mean, Lam mentioned Horsemen, and other guys named Death and

Famine. I assume Pestilence is out there as well. Are you like the Horsemen of the

Apocalypse? Are the end times coming?”

Russell watched as War rubbed his jaw for a moment while studying him. He didn’t

know what War was thinking, but he couldn’t help the fact that his body found War

extremely attractive. His cock perked up, tenting his pyjama pants.

War’s eyebrows went up and lust flared in his eyes, but War seemed to keep his desire

in check.

“Why don’t we check you out of the hotel? You can go out on the steppes with me. We

can talk out there.”

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He opened his mouth to protest. War might have helped Russell out and not done

anything to him yet, but what was to stop War from chopping him up into little pieces once

they were away from civilisation?

War raised his hand. “Look, you don’t know me really and it might be crazy to ask you

this, but, please, trust me. I won’t hurt you. There are things about me it’s best no one else

knows. I can get away with telling one person. Any more than that, and I could get my ass

handed to me.”

“Lam knows,” Russell pointed out as he pushed to his feet and started packing the few

items he’d taken out of his bag.

War moved to stand by the sliding door, staring out. “Lam is one of us. He wouldn’t

say anything. He knows the risks we take and what could happen if mortals find out about

us.”

“So you’re not human?”

“Not any more.”

Russell zipped his bag closed and tucked his wallet in his pocket. “I’m ready.”

War turned and smiled. “Good. Let’s check out, get some breakfast, and I can show you

around my land.”

Russell stuffed any misgivings deep inside. He’d come to Mongolia to find a place he fit

in. He knew Kansas would never be home again. Mongolia might not be either, but he had

come to the other side of the world to find out for sure. The best way to see a country was to

travel with a native and War was as close as Russell was going to get at the moment.

“All right.”

He tensed slightly as War walked up to him, cupped the back of his head and brought

their mouths together. Russell rested his hands on War’s hips, not pulling him close, but not

pushing him away either. He opened his lips, allowing War to slip his tongue in.

War took his time learning every nook of Russell’s mouth, teasing along his teeth and

sucking on Russell’s tongue. His knees shook and Russell wanted nothing more than to let

War lower him to the bed and fuck him senseless.

Moans filled the room when War broke the kiss and stepped back. Russell blinked,

trying to get his bearings back and not wanting to beg War for more. War rubbed a rough

thumb over Russell’s swollen bottom lip. Russell’s pulse stuttered.

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“I don’t want our first time to be here. I want to take you under the open sky where we

can feel the sun, hear the wind, and know we’re part of something much bigger than just our

lives.”

Russell’s heart melted a little. He nodded and snatched up his bag, following War out

of the room. They made their way down to the front desk, where he checked out. War

flagged down a taxi.

“Where are we going?”

“I have a friend who lives on the outskirts of the city. I always leave my Land Rover

with him when I come into town.” War gave the cabbie the address after they’d slid into the

backseat.

“Who watches your horses? Do you have a hawk? Was that dream real or fake?”

He tapped his fingers on his thighs, not sure what to do. He really wanted to lean

against War, letting the man support him on those broad shoulders.

“Well, I do have a hawk. Actually, Singqor is a gyrfalcon. In a way it was a dream

because your body wasn’t really there, but your spirit was.” War frowned. “I’m not sure I

can explain how that happened in any way that would make sense to you. I have some

friends who take my horses into their herd to keep an eye on them while I’m gone.”

“Makes sense,” Russell muttered.

“I have one stallion and they have him cover some of their mares. They keep the foals

and I don’t have to actually pay them. It’s a win-win situation for both of us.” War reached

and laid his hand on top of Russell’s. “Don’t worry. Everything will work out.”

“It’s not that I’m scared or anything like that. Just nervous because this isn’t like me. I

don’t take off with strangers out into the wilds of a foreign county. I’ve watched shows about

people who do that and nothing good ever comes of it.”

War chuckled. “Those people did stupid things, Russell. You didn’t. Don’t you think

anyone seeing us leave the hotel would remember you walking out with a man with blood

red hair? It’s not like I can blend into a crowd.”

Russell thought about it for a moment. “Good point.”

They arrived at a small one-storey ranch house. It really was in the outskirts of the city.

There wasn’t anything else beyond except for grass and one dirt road. He climbed out and

caught the bag War tossed at him. He wandered off a little way while War paid the driver.

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He didn’t know how long he stood staring out over the vast land before War came to join

him.

“Let’s go. “

He jumped when War grabbed his shoulder in a tight grip. Turning, he spied a beat-up

Land Rover idling on the road.

“You don’t have to say anything to your friend?”

“No. He’s at work anyway. He’ll know I’m back when he sees the Rover’s gone.” War

pointed at the vehicle. “Get in. We’ve got a good distance to travel before we get to my

place.”

Russell glanced at him as he climbed in and buckled up. “I thought you lived in a tent.”

“At times, but I do have a very ramshackle hut in the middle of the land I usually roam

with my herd.” War shrugged as he put the Rover in gear and headed out into the steppes.

Gripping the door handle tightly, Russell tried to keep from bouncing his head into the

roof. The road smoothed farther out and he relaxed enough to look out of his window at the

scenery. He smiled at the fact that it really didn’t look much different from the plains of

Kansas.

“You live out here because it reminds you of your native home?” He shot a glance over

at War.

“Sort of. My homeland has way more sand in it. I’m Bedouin and used to live in Saudi

Arabia, or what is now known as Saudi Arabia.”

“What’s now known as? It wasn’t known as that when you lived there? How long ago

did you leave?”

World history and geography weren’t Russell’s strong suit, so he had no real idea when

Saudi Arabia had become a country in its own right.

“It’s been a while,” War hedged.

Rolling his eyes, Russell grunted. “Is this one of those things you don’t really want to

talk to me about?”

War’s knuckles went white on the steering wheel. Should Russell tell him it wasn’t

important? War could keep his secrets and Russell wouldn’t hassle him about them any

more. He didn’t want to be an annoying pest, considering he didn’t like talking about

himself.

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Yet he wanted to know why War and Lam were different from other people. Why did

they call humans ‘mortals’ like War and Lam weren’t and hadn’t been for a long time?

“It’s not that I don’t want to talk to you, but I’ve been told never to say anything to

anyone about what I do and who I’ve become. My comrades and I help keep the world in

balance. Maybe not in the best way, but because of us evil has less of a chance of winning the

battle.”

“You mean you really are one of the Horsemen of the Apocalypse? The others are

Pestilence, Famine, and Death?” Russell racked his brain, trying to dig up all the information

he remembered about the Horsemen.

“Yes.”

War’s terse confirmation startled Russell. He’d expected War to deny it or laugh it off.

Hearing that the man he was travelling with happened to be one of the mythological

Horsemen shook him to his core.

“I thought you were just myths. Religious crap to scare people into behaving.”

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Chapter Seven

War laughed, and winced inside at the slightly brittle edge to it.

Try not to scare the man. Death’s voice danced in his mind.

I’ll do my best, but how do you think he’s really going to react once the shock wears off?
You might be surprised.

“Death is the Pale Rider, right?”

He nodded. “Yes, he is. Why?”

“I think I met him. When I was injured and lying on the ledge in Afghanistan, a pale-

haired man appeared to me and told me to hang on a little longer. Help was coming. He

disappeared right before you showed up.”

You bastard.

Death’s chuckle rang through his head. I have no idea what you’re talking about.

Don’t lie. You know exactly what I’m talking about. Why did you let him see you, but give me

shit about checking up on him?

“Are you mad?” Russell’s hesitant question drew War from his silent conversation with

Death.

“Not at you. I’m annoyed at a certain Horseman.”

Because it’s my job to make sure you’re not just thinking with your dick. There’s too much at

stake for you to risk it all over some one-off or quick fuck.

War snorted, but didn’t reply. As attracted as he was to Russell, sex had never been the

first thing on his mind. He’d always wanted to help Russell get beyond the guilt Russell felt.

Really? You want to help someone get beyond his guilt? Funny, coming from a man who let a

boy murder him because he felt guilty for killing the boy’s tribe.

Shut up. I’m not going to talk to you about this.

He could almost see Death shake his head in amazement at War’s avoidance of

discussing his past. Of course, War didn’t need to be reminded of his own guilt and how it

had trapped him in the life he was living right then.

“The Horsemen are real?”

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“Yes. It served our purpose to make people think we were merely legends or a myth

told to keep mortals in line. Yet we do keep a balance between good and evil.”

Russell’s expression said he didn’t believe War.

“I know the things we do seem to be more evil than good, but sometimes it does work.

When an epidemic breaks out and children die, sometimes a warlord’s heart will soften and

he stops the genocide. When war breaks out, eventually the blood spilt is too much, and the

two sides will find peace. Famine brings out the good in most people, and they’re willing to

share what food they have to help those starving, and Death comes for everyone.”

“You had to say that, didn’t you?”

War chuckled. “Couldn’t help that. You see, if we weren’t around to shock people into

realising how bad things can get, evil could take over and what happens then? The world

comes apart at the seams, and the true battle between Heaven and Hell begins. The

Horsemen are a thin line between the world as you know it now, and the Apocalypse

everyone fears.”

“Were you born a Horseman or did you become one? How does that work?” Russell

scratched his jaw. “I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around this. Next, you’re

going to tell me vampires and werewolves exist.”

“Not that I know of. No matter what any of the movies and books say.” War shot him a

grin.

Russell laughed. “Well, there’s a secret fantasy shot to hell.”

“You wanted to get it on with a vampire or werewolf?”

“Who wouldn’t? Haven’t you watched that TV show with the chick who has all the hot

paranormal guys after her?”

War shook his head. “I don’t own a TV. There’s not a lot of electricity out here.”

“Okay, you have a point there.” Russell pursed his lips like he was thinking about

something. “You didn’t answer my question. How does someone become a Horseman?”

“I’m not sure. I died; then the next thing I remember I woke up like this. Death telling

me I was War, the Red Horseman, and I needed to start wars to keep the peace.” War

frowned. “I’m still not sure it works that way, but I don’t argue with him.”

“What were you before you died?”

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“I was the chief of a Bedouin tribe. I think I’d seen thirty-five seasons before I was

murdered.”

Russell inhaled and War realised he needed to watch what he said. He didn’t need to

spill all of his history into Russell’s lap. The man didn’t want to hear all of this shit.

“Murdered? Who murdered you?”

War shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Old history and all that.”

The man sitting next to him didn’t say anything, but War could tell Russell didn’t

believe him. He thought about things he could get Russell to talk about. War wanted Russell

to talk about what had happened when his friend had died and Russell had shut down.

“What happened that day?”

As tension filled the air, War realised how comfortable he’d felt sitting beside Russell

before he’d asked the question. They had the potential to be so much more than just friends

with benefits. War could help him deal with the aftermath of battle.

“I’ve talked about this with a bunch of doctors in the mental ward at the VA hospital.

They said I had a mental break down and my mind kept replaying the moments with Jimmy

and the medic.”

Out of the corner of his eye, War spied Russell’s hands starting to shake. Shit, he didn’t

want to drive him into another flashback with just some simple questions. Yet he had a

feeling Russell hadn’t really talked about how that day had scarred him.

“War can be rough and sometimes our minds aren’t strong enough to deal with all the

shit thrown at us.” He cringed inside at the drivel he was spouting.

He wouldn’t put it past Russell to slap him upside the head and tell him to keep his

mouth shut.

“The doctors and everyone else said the same thing to me. I appreciate knowing I

wasn’t mentally strong enough to handle being in battle. Makes me feel really good.” Russell

turned away from him.

“Fuck. I wasn’t saying you were weak or anything like that. Simply that your mind had

had enough. Do you think any of the men who came back from Vietnam or even the first

Iraqi war with post-traumatic stress disorder were weak?”

“No.”

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“Then why do you think of yourself as weak for having the same issues? I know I

didn’t say it right, but it’s true. Sometimes our mind can’t take all the shit thrown at it,

especially during battle. Too much noise. Too many explosions. Too much blood.”

He gritted his teeth, knowing blood was a trigger for Russell. Silence filled the Land

Rover for a while. Was Russell fighting his mind, so he didn’t return to the empty place he’d

been in before? He shot Russell a look, but Russell was staring out of the passenger window

and didn’t meet his eyes.

“I think that’s what did it for me. That was the straw to break the camel’s back, you

know. I could handle the noise and the explosions. The idea of killing someone bothered me,

but I never really got close enough to see them, so they could remain abstract for me.”

War understood the concept. At times, he’d found himself wishing it happened that

way for him. Of course, there weren’t guns or bombs when he went into battle. When War

was mortal, it was hand-to-hand combat, where he looked into the eyes of the man he was

about to kill and watched the life drain from them. Most of the time, it hadn’t bothered him.

Just a way of life for him and his tribe, yet there were those few moments when something

about his enemy had connected with his mind and he would remember their faces.

“Modern warfare makes killing the enemy easier in a way, because you never have to

see their faces if you don’t want to. I have to admit, when the nightmares of the people I

killed haunt me, I wish I lived in your time.” He paused and thought for a minute. “I’m not

saying war is easier for you. I’m simply saying I wish I didn’t have to look into my enemies’

eyes each time I killed one of them.”

Russell shrugged. “Everyone’s experience of battle is different, I guess. I’d never really

seen anyone killed around me. Sure, there’d been injuries and even some severe ones, but no

one had died in my presence. Then, one minute Jimmy and I were talking. Next thing I

know, he’s been hit. I didn’t know he was dead. When the medic showed up, there was still

hope. I heard the man yell for a medevac, so I thought Jimmy would get flown out and be

fine.”

Russell’s voice trembled and War reached over to entwine their fingers. He figured

Russell needed physical touch to ground him to the present. When nightmares drove him

from his bed, War groomed his horses to ease the pain. Being around them and their

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uncomplicated expectations helped stop the downward spiral into depression and self-

loathing.

He waited for Russell to continue. When he didn’t, War looked over at him and noticed

Russell was staring out of the window again, lost inside his own thoughts. Yet his expression

didn’t worry War, or make him think Russell was having another flashback. War decided to

let Russell break the silence when he was ready. He wouldn’t force him to talk.

Thirty minutes later, when Russell showed no signs of saying a word, War took his eyes

off the trail and glanced at him. Russell’s head rested on the window and he appeared to be

sound asleep. War winced as the tyres hit a rut and Russell’s forehead bounced against the

glass.

“That might leave a mark,” he muttered.

It was a good thing they didn’t have much farther to go. He slowed down slightly, since

there wasn’t any point in hurrying and giving Russell a concussion. Russell had enough

problems with his brain already.

As he drove, any left-over tension and exhaustion drained away from War. He rolled

down his window and allowed the warm dry wind to blow over his face. He breathed in and

realised what Russell meant about the smell of grass. He breathed deep, and, when the fresh

scents of dirt and grass filled his lungs, War knew he was home.

Everything settled deep inside him. As far as he was concerned, at this moment,

nothing existed outside him and Russell in the vehicle. There was no other country besides

Mongolia. No wars or battles going on anywhere else. Suddenly the steppes were an island

of grass, keeping them isolated from the rest of the world. It was the best thing for both of

them.

Russell needed to learn how to live again without thinking of the men who had died

around him. He had to discover it was all right to laugh and love without feeling guilty

because he had lived and they had died.

At what point are you going to follow your own advice?

He studiously ignored Death’s comment, choosing to focus on Russell’s problems, not

his own.

An hour later, he pulled to a stop in front of his small hut and turned to look at Russell.

The man leant against the door, his entire body relaxed and his expression rather innocent.

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He hated waking him up, but if he left him in the truck Russell wouldn’t be able to move his

neck later.

“Hey, Russell, it’s time to wake up.”

The younger man muttered something, but didn’t open his eyes. War reached out to

shake Russell’s shoulder.

“Honey, you need to wake up. We’re home.”

The moment his hand landed on Russell, he shot straight up and shouted, “Don’t touch

me.”

War held up his hands. “Okay. Don’t worry. It’s just me, Russell. You’re okay.”

Russell glanced wildly around for a second until he focused on War and his shoulders

slumped. He scrubbed his hands over his face and sighed.

“I’m sorry.”

“No worries, love.” War undid his seat belt and climbed out of the Land Rover. He

went around to the passenger side and opened Russell’s door. “Can I show you my place?”

Russell got out and stretched. War tried not to ogle Russell as his T-shirt rode up and a

patch of pale skin appeared. He clenched his hand to keep from touching Russell there.

Starting something out in the open wasn’t a good idea. Of course, it wasn’t like anyone

would see them if they did it.

“I’ll be honest, War. It doesn’t look like much.” Russell tossed him a grin as he grabbed

his bag from the back and headed towards the door.

“What? Did you think I’d have built a two-storey mansion out in the middle of

nowhere?” War shook his head, but he smiled, not taking offence at Russell’s comment. “It

fits me. I’m not used to anything fancy or big. This is close to the tent I used to live in.”

He watched as Russell paused at the door and turned to look back at him. War gestured

for Russell to go in. He never locked his doors or windows. Nothing he owned mattered to

him. Anything important was hidden or he held their memories in his mind and didn’t need

the physical objects.

“Trusting, aren’t you?” Russell raised an eyebrow at him.

He swung his arms out, wide and encompassing. “Who do you think would come and

steal anything? If I have to leave, I make sure there’s food in the cupboards and wood in the

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firebox. I’m willing to let anyone who needs shelter use my hut as they pass by. As long as

they don’t burn the place down or destroy it in some way, I don’t care.”

Russell didn’t say anything else before shoving open the door and going in. War

strolled around the yard and moved back towards the sheds and paddocks he used to house

his horses during storms.

A shrill neigh shattered the air and he grinned. His friends had somehow known he’d

be back today. They’d returned his herd to him. Unused to being penned in for long, the

small brown horses milled around. Slipping under the rails of the fence, War mingled with

the horses, murmuring and stroking them. He wanted them to relearn his voice so, when he

took them out again, they would obey him.

War lost track of time as he wandered among the horses. Finally, when one of the

horses closest to the fence tossed up its head and snorted, he turned to see Russell resting his

elbows on the top rail. Without really thinking, he smiled and walked through the herd to

slip his hands into Russell’s hair.

He brought their lips together in a soft kiss. There wasn’t any rush to do more at the

moment. Russell kept his hands on the railing, but he did participate in the kiss. They played

and teased until War’s cock ached and he longed to bend Russell over and ride him.

“Maybe we should move this into the house,” Russell whispered against his lips.

War nodded. “Let’s go.”

It was time for them to move beyond kisses. He climbed out of the pen, placed his hand

at the small of Russell’s back and they walked back to War’s home. Stepping inside, War shot

a quick glance around to make sure everything looked fine.

“Nothing seems disturbed,” Russell commented and continued to head towards the

curtained corner of the single room.

“Of course, since I don’t own much, you wouldn’t really know if anything had been

taken or not.” He chuckled.

Russell didn’t say anything, just nodded as he reached up to unbutton his shirt. War

licked his lips as Russell slowly stripped, revealing lean muscles and lightly golden skin.

“Am I the only one getting naked here?”

War hurriedly tore off his clothes, letting them fall wherever they landed. Soon they

stood, staring at each other. War’s cock stiffened as Russell studied it. He hoped the man

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liked what he saw. War knew his own body carried scars of the life he’d lived before he’d

become the Red Horseman.

Crooking a finger at him, Russell encouraged him to come closer. He stalked Russell,

but something told him the man wasn’t going to run. Russell took one step back and swept

the curtain aside, showing the large bed. Furs and blankets covered it. War eased forward,

and Russell sat on the edge of the mattress.

He strolled up to Russell, moving to stand between his legs. Russell rested his hands on

War’s hips. War stroked his hands over Russell’s chest, stopping to play with the man’s

nipples, pinching and twisting until Russell whimpered.

“Why don’t you taste me?”

His suggestion lit up Russell’s eyes and Russell leant forward to wrap his lips around

the tip of War’s cock. War closed his eyes and slowly pushed in, sinking as deep into

Russell’s mouth as his lover would let him. When Russell tightened his fingers on War’s

hips, he knew Russell couldn’t take any more.

War ran his fingers through Russell’s hair, stopping at the back of Russell’s head and

cradling it in his palms. “Are you ready?”

Nodding, Russell hummed, causing War to shiver from the vibrations. Once he could

think again, he began to move, pumping in and out of Russell’s mouth. He moaned when

Russell slid his hands around and trailed his fingers down War’s crease to rub against his

hole. It had been a long time since War had allowed anyone to penetrate him, but he knew

he’d surrender to Russell.

Strange how War could give up all his reservations and worries, and let Russell in.

What was it about the younger soldier that made War willing to let him into the deepest

parts of his soul? Another caress and War let all his thoughts disappear from his mind. It was

time to focus on making love to Russell and deal with all the other stuff later.

His eyes rolled back in his head as Russell deep throated him while pressing his finger

past the tight ring of muscles guarding War’s inner passage. Russell’s mouth was hot and

wet, almost a perfect place to be. The only place better would be buried balls deep in

Russell’s ass, but if Russell wanted to fuck him first, War would be fine with that.

War undulated between Russell’s mouth and fingers, begging for more. He tightened

his grip on Russell’s head, and Russell winced.

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“Sorry,” he murmured, stroking Russell’s hair in apology.

Russell didn’t stop and War’s balls drew closer to his body while pleasure pooled at the

base of his spine. His lover shoved three fingers into War, hitting his gland with a knuckle

and War came, spilling his cum down Russell’s throat.

“Russell!” War shouted.

His lover kept sucking and stretching him until War’s knees threatened to give out. War

took a trembling step back.

“Let me get in bed and you can fuck me.”

“Where’s the slick and rubbers?” Russell helped him onto the mattress.

Nodding at a box on the table next to the bed, War settled on his hands and knees. He

turned his head to watch Russell open the box and yank the stuff out. They exchanged grins

as Russell dropped the lube next to War.

“Why don’t you lube up while I get the condom on?”

War did just that, groaning as his own fingers filled his ass. He was using four by the

time Russell slapped his hip.

“All right. As much as I love watching this, I want to fuck you.”

“Take it slow. It’s been a while,” War admitted.

Russell tilted his head and studied him for a moment. “How long?”

“Since I gave my ass to anyone?”

Russell nodded while he climbed between War’s legs. War shuddered at the feel of

Russell’s cock brushing over his hole.

“Let’s just keep it at a while.”

It had actually been over a hundred years since he’d allowed himself to be vulnerable

enough to let someone fuck him. He didn’t think Russell was ready to hear that just yet.

Russell might have dealt with finding out he was a Horseman, but that didn’t mean his mind

would be able to accept just how old War really was. He didn’t want to interrupt their

lovemaking before he felt Russell inside him.

“Okay. I won’t last long either. It’s been a while for me as well.”

War dropped his head down as Russell breached his ass like a slow-moving army

invading a country. He tried to relax his inner muscles and soon Russell was in as far as he

could go. Russell paused, and War gave his body a few minutes to process how full he felt.

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“Start moving, honey,” War ordered.

“All right.”

Russell withdrew until only the head of his cock rested inside War. Without warning,

he slammed back in and War shouted. Russell picked up speed until he reamed War’s ass

with deep, hard strokes. His fingers bit into War’s hips and War knew he’d have bruises

there by the time they were done.

The hut filled with the primal sounds and scents of sex. War’s cock swelled again and

for the first time since he’d been reborn he climaxed a second time in just a few minutes.

Russell wasn’t far behind him. When War’s arms couldn’t hold him up any more, he

collapsed, grimacing as he hit the wet spot. Russell covered him from shoulders to knees.

They lay there for several moments, gathering their strength back while calming their

breathing. Finally, Russell pulled away from him and War winced at the slight twinge of

pain when Russell’s cock slid out. He listened to Russell moving around the room.

“Where’s the bathroom, man? I’d like to clean us both up before we take a nap.”

War snorted softly. “You’ll have to draw a bucket of water from the well outside. It’ll be

cold as hell, but we’ll deal with it. There’s an outhouse closer to the shed where the horses

are.”

“Fuck. Are you kidding?”

War rolled over and sat up. Draping his arms around his knees, he grinned at Russell.

“What did you expect? There’s no modern plumbing, dude. Way too expensive to try and

put pipes all the way out here. This is life on the steppes.”

Russell grumbled under his breath as he tossed the rubber in the wastebasket under the

sink before grabbing the pail next to the door and leaving. War stripped the bed and put new

sheets on while he waited for Russell to return. By the time his lover carried the bucket in,

War had a small fire burning in the fireplace.

“Fuck that water is cold,” Russell muttered as he set the pail next to War.

“It’s spring fed, so it’s really cold in the early months when the snow is melting.” War

dipped a cloth into the chilly water and cleaned himself off. “Why don’t you climb under the

blankets? We’ll take a nap before I have to go out and feed the horses.”

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Russell did what War suggested and War went to get another bucket of clean water. He

poured the dirty water out over a small rose bush he’d planted next to the back door. He

filled the pail again and brought it back in. Setting it next to the fire, he covered it.

“It’ll be warm when we get up and you can wash up better with that.”

Russell didn’t answer him and War turned to see Russell had fallen asleep. Wow. Guess

sex had worn him out more than War had thought it would, considering Russell had napped

most of the way to War’s place. He shut the doors, but left all the windows open to allow the

breeze to blow through.

He joined Russell in bed, spooning behind him and laying an arm over Russell’s waist.

He placed a kiss at the base of Russell’s skull before closing his eyes. War wouldn’t sleep, but

it was nice to just rest for a while. Hopefully neither of them would have any nightmares to

interrupt the moment.

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Chapter Eight

Liquid tasting of copper poured into Russell’s mouth, drowning him with each

swallow. He spat and swiped a hand over his face, wiping the sticky stuff off. He couldn’t

open his eyes. They were glued together by whatever covered him. Russell could feel it on

his hands and his clothes.

He thrashed about, trying to free himself of the fabric strangling him. His throat started

to close because his mind didn’t want to think of him drinking blood. Jimmy’s blood. The

medic’s blood. Even though his eyes weren’t open, he could see them glaring at him in

accusation. Their lives splattered all over him, and he hadn’t done anything to help them.

They were buried in the ground while he walked around the earth, broken and bleeding

deep inside, yet still alive.

“I’m sorry,” Russell cried, pushing their cold bodies away from him. “I’m sorry I’m

alive and you’re dead. I couldn’t do anything to help you.”

Jimmy and the medic closed in, somehow holding his shoulders and pinning him to the

ground. Christ! It was like a bad zombie movie. All Russell could do was fight.

“Russell!”

He frowned. The dead in his dream had never spoken to him before. Their cold lifeless

eyes were enough to fill him with fear and shame. He shook his head and cried out as they

moved closer to him. One of these nights they were going to rip his heart from his chest and

devour it in front of him. He needed to wash the blood off. It must be how they kept finding

him.

“Russell, love, wake up. It’s just a dream.”

No, this wasn’t just a dream. It was real and he deserved everything they did to him.

He should have died the same day they did. He shouldn’t have lived, covered in their blood

and bits of their brains. Shame swelled in him and he shoved at the hands holding him

down.

“Let me go,” he shouted.

“You’re going to hurt yourself. Russell, wake up.”

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He pushed again, and suddenly the hands were gone. Russell gasped and curled up in

a ball, making it harder for them to get at his chest. He sobbed, not understanding why

they’d come back. He’d been doing so well, keeping the ghosts at bay. He didn’t give them

any hold to keep him trapped inside his mind, reliving every dreadful moment while they

bled to death around him.

Russell started to spiral down into a pool of crimson blood and white brain matter.

Things he’d seen the day when his mind had splintered. All the thoughts in his head

narrowed to a single thought. He needed to clean off their blood. Only then would he be free

of the guilt he felt for surviving when they’d died. Yet he couldn’t make himself move from

where he lay.

Ice-cold water poured over him. He shot straight up and flailed around, trying to grasp

something, anything, to keep him anchored. He pushed his hair out of his eyes and glared at

the man standing next to the bed.

“What the fuck are you doing? Trying to drown me?”

“You do realise what was going on, don’t you?” War set the empty pail down and sat

on the edge of the mattress.

Russell scrubbed his hands over his face and grunted. “No. I have no idea what was

going on.”

War rubbed Russell’s shoulder. “I think it started out as a nightmare and slid into a

flashback. I couldn’t wake you up and the only way I could think of getting you out of it was

by pouring water on you. I figured the shock would be enough to wake you.”

“Damn right about that.” He shivered, causing War to stand.

War held out his hand. “Why don’t you go dry off while I pull the bedding off before

the mattress gets soaked? It’ll need to dry, but I have a few blankets we can wrap up in.”

Russell’s hand shook as he took War’s, but neither man commented on it. War helped

him stagger over to where some towels rested on the table. He dried off quickly and dropped

into a chair while watching War. Russell clasped his hands together to try to stop the

trembling.

When War finished tucking in the blankets, Russell tensed, knowing War was going to

ask him what he had dreamt about. The doctors and nurses at the hospital had done it all the

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time. They hadn’t even waited until he’d truly remembered where he was before they’d

bombarded him with questions.

War turned and looked at him. “Do you need one of your pills?”

Russell thought about it and nodded. “I probably should. Once I have the nightmare, it

doesn’t let me go easily. I tend to slide back into it every time I close my eyes.”

“Get back in bed. I’ll grab the bottle and a glass of water for you.” War went over to

Russell’s bag and dug around in it.

Not having the energy to tell War he’d take care of it himself, Russell did as War

ordered. He stretched out under the blankets and stared up at the rough-hewn ceiling beams.

“Did you build this all yourself?”

The sounds of liquid being poured stopped for a moment, and then continued as War

answered, “Yes. Some of the other nomads helped me, but mostly I did it myself. Took me

several years.”

“It’s nice.” An inane comment, but he couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“Thanks.”

The mattress dipped as War sat next to him. He took the glass and pill from War’s

hand. Popping the pill into his mouth, he met War’s gaze. Instead of curiosity, understanding

and sympathy shone in his eyes.

“I appreciate it.” He handed the glass back to War before wiggling to find the right

spot.

“No problem. Try to go back to sleep. I have to go out and water the horses. They need

to be fed as well. Tomorrow, I’m going to take them out to their grazing land. You’re

welcome to come with me.”

“I’ll have to see how I feel. The pills tend to knock me for a loop for a while

afterwards.”

“Fair enough.” War leaned over and placed a kiss on Russell’s forehead.

Russell blinked and his eyelids grew heavy. The medicine kicked in and Russell’s brain

calmed, letting Russell fall into a deep sleep without any nightmares.

A door shutting woke Russell up and he sighed as he opened his eyes. War stood

beside the table, naked and humming softly as he washed up. Tanned skin everywhere told

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Russell the man spent a great deal of time outside while naked. That made sense considering

there probably weren’t a lot of neighbours dropping by to visit. There were scars marring

War’s back and legs. Russell knew there were more on War’s chest and arms.

“How are you feeling this morning?”

Russell looked up from where he’d been ogling War’s ass. Caught.

“I’m doing much better this morning.” He grinned and War winked at him.

“I see that. Would you like something to eat?” War gestured to the table where several

plates were placed. “Nothing warm, but it’s dried fruit and meat.”

Russell tossed the blankets off and climbed out of the bed. He stretched, listening as his

spine cracked and popped. He wandered over to join War at the table. Picking up a strip of

dried meat, he studied War.

“How long have you been up?”

War shrugged. “I don’t sleep much any more. I did some work around the place. Had

small repairs to make.”

“And now?”

“After you wash up, and if you’re feeling like it, we’ll take the horses out to graze.

They’ve been penned for a day or two and don’t like it. I usually don’t pen them unless

there’s a storm coming or I need to leave for a day or so.”

Russell nodded and took the cloth War handed him. War tossed the dirty water out of

the back door and refilled it from the bucket by the fire. Russell washed while War pulled on

a pair of faded jeans and a green T-shirt. War sat to tug on boots and Russell went to his bag

to grab some clothes.

After dressing, he followed War outside and down to the pen. War tossed the set of

saddlebags he carried over the top of the railing and turned to look at him.

“Do you want to come with me?”

Russell took an inventory of his body and nodded. “Yeah. I think I’d like that.”

“Can you ride?” War ducked under the railing and whistled softly.

Two large dogs cut two horses out of the herd, urging them close to War. Russell didn’t

remember seeing them the day before.

“Where did the dogs come from?” He didn’t try to pet them. They didn’t look

particularly friendly.

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“They spend most of their time out here with the horses. They aren’t very socialised. I

don’t want pets.”

War laid a hand on each of the horses’ necks and led them over to the shed. The horses

stood calmly while he put on a hackamore along with a pad of blankets for a saddle on them.

Russell winced at the thought of how sore his ass was going to be by the time they’d stopped

riding for the day. Well, this was what he’d come to Mongolia to discover how it was

different from the rest of the world..

War’s low murmurs drew Russell’s attention and he admitted to himself that actually

War was the reason he’d decided Mongolia would be a great place to visit. It was War he

wanted to find out more about rather than the country he found himself standing in.

“You can ride?”

He glanced up to see War holding out a set of reins. Russell took them gingerly in his

hand, staring at the horse standing in front of him. The horse stared back at him, bright

brown eyes full of calm curiosity.

“What’s its name?” He stroked his hand over its soft nose.

“That’s a mare, and I don’t name them.”

Looking over at War, Russell frowned. “Why not?”

“Same reason the dogs don’t have names either. They aren’t pets, so why treat them as

such?” War shrugged. “The only animal I named is Singqor, and that’s only because I’ve kept

him for ten years, but I don’t plan on keeping him much longer. It’s getting time for him to

be free, and it’s tradition to let the falcons go after a certain age. Once he leaves, I won’t train

another bird.”

“Why not?”

He followed War as the other man walked out of the pen with his mount. The herd

flowed out around them, but didn’t move on. The dogs kept them milling about close by.

“It was fun to learn how to do it, but none of the young people today want to know. It’s

expensive to train and keep them. So much knowledge has been lost while the world

modernises.” War’s expression seemed sad for a moment. “So, you can ride, right?”

“Yeah. It’s been a year or so since I last did it, but I think I’ll remember the basics.

Though why don’t you put a bit on them?” Russell pointed to the hackamore around the

horse’s nose.

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“Bits are too harsh on their mouths. I sell my horses to other tribes or herdsmen. I’m not

here to change them in any way. They are here simply to help me deal with the other aspects

of my life. They are uncomplicated and unconditional. These horses love me and obey me,

but they don’t really need me. They could survive on the steppes very easily, even if I

weren’t around.” War swung astride his mount. He looked over at the dogs sitting quietly,

eyes trained on the horses, not him. “As could the dogs.”

Russell used a block of wood to mount his horse. It took a little time to find his balance,

since he wasn’t used to riding without stirrups. He walked the mare around the yard,

relearning how to sit on a horse and trying not to feel like an idiot. War and the rest of the

animals waited patiently until he turned back to them with a smile.

“I’m ready.”

Nodding, War whistled sharply and sent the dogs and horses on their way. Russell

settled in to one side of the herd where the dust wouldn’t choke him. War watched the

horses for the first hour, keeping an eye out to make sure there weren’t any stragglers or

injured animals. After they’d ridden for a while, War joined Russell at the other side of the

group.

“Who murdered you?” Russell wasn’t sure why he’d brought up the topic of War’s

death.

War pursed his lips and Russell waited, unsure if War would answer him.

“A boy from another tribe.”

“How old were you?” He could tell it was a touchy subject for War, but Russell couldn’t

stop thinking about it. He wanted to know everything about the man riding beside him.

“I told you already. I’d seen thirty-five seasons by that time. I was the chief of my tribe

and had massacred the boy’s family. I deserved what he did to me.” War sighed. “I could

have called my guards into my tent when I realised the boy was there. I knew what he

wanted to do to me, but I chose to allow him to exact his revenge on me.”

Russell wanted to stop his horse, reach out and shake War silly. “Why would you do

something like that? I mean, killing the kid’s family was bad, but I assume things like that

happened all the time back in the day. I guess I can understand why he’d be pissed, but to

just lie there and let him kill you sounds crazy to me.”

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War tugged on a lock of his hair before issuing a rough laugh. “It was crazy and I regret

doing that almost as much as I regret killing the boy’s tribe, but it’s too late now. I can’t go

back even if I wanted to.”

Russell sent him a quick glance. “You regret killing his tribe? Why did you do it? Did

you need more land or were they threatening you?”

“No.” War stared out over the grass, his eyes not seeing the present landscape. Maybe

he saw the sand and dunes of his homeland.

“Then why did you do it?”

“I was lied to and those lies caused me to start a war with a neighbouring tribe. We

were all betrayed, but that isn’t a good enough reason for me to wipe out an entire group of

people.” War shook his head.

“I’m sorry.” Russell wasn’t sure what he should say to that.

“Thank you, but you weren’t there, so you have no reason to be sorry.”

“Maybe not, but I can still feel bad for you.”

War pulled his horse to a stop and glared at Russell. “You’re taking all of this rather

calmly. I figured if I ever told anyone they would think I was crazy.”

Russell shrugged and paused as well. “Maybe I’m still trying to process it all. Actually,

I’ve seen you in a bunch of different places where you shouldn’t be, and other people haven’t

seen you.”

“I’m not supposed to allow people to see me as a Horseman. I’ve gotten good at hiding,

even with this hair. A baseball cap and sunglasses usually work best.” War gestured towards

his head. “For centuries, I’ve stayed under the radar, doing my job and trying not to get

attached to anyone. It’s too hard to watch them die as they grow old.”

Was that the reason why War hadn’t had sex for a while? Of course, Russell knew sex

could be one of the easiest things to find and have. Strangers didn’t care who you were or

what you did, as long as they got off. It had been how Russell had got his experiences,

through one-night stands and quick hand jobs in dark alleys.

“So you’re the second Horseman,” he commented.

“Yes. I’m War and I’ve started so many throughout the centuries I think I’ve forgotten

most of them.”

“I bet.” Russell nudged his mount forward.

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The herd had continued on, but the dogs kept them in line. The horses grazed and

wandered. Russell glanced around, taking in the scenery. There wasn’t anything really

different about the grasslands they rode through, but it was interesting. Different in some

ways from the Kansas prairies, yet the softly rolling mounds were uneven enough to keep his

attention.

“We’ll be coming up to a small pond in an hour or so. I usually stop there to have lunch

and water the horses.” War kept pace with him. “I packed us some food.”

“I appreciate it.”

Russell had the feeling he’d be happy to take a break when they got there. They fell

silent as they made their way towards the pond. As they rode, the tension buried deep inside

Russell slowly started to ease and he discovered he was enjoying their journey.

When they got to the pond, the horses drank while War and Russell dismounted. War

took the blankets and hackamores off, setting them on the ground and letting the horses

rejoin the herd. Russell walked around, stretching as he did so. By the time they either

returned home or stopped for the night he would be horribly sore. He would rather be sore

from this, though, than from carrying his pack over the sand in Afghanistan.

“You hungry?”

Turning, he spotted War sitting next to the edge of the pond. Russell grinned.

“I’m hungrier than I have been in a long time.”

“The air will do that to you.” War opened the saddlebags and unpacked them.

Russell knelt beside War, eyeing the food as it appeared. Dried meat and fruit set on a

clean towel. He waited until War had finished laying it out before he took a piece of meat

and started chewing. War dipped two mugs full of water and handed one to Russell.

“This safe?”

War chuckled. “As safe as anything else around here.”

“True. At least no one’s shooting at me.” Russell settled down to eat.

“Good point.” War picked up some dried fruit. “Why did they send you back out to

your unit after your first injury?”

Russell shrugged. “I don’t know why, except they might have needed me to fill a spot

and I was pretty well healed by that time.”

“Yet you had some mental issues, didn’t you?” War didn’t look at him.

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Did he have issues stemming from his time spent on the cliff? Russell knew he did,

though he hadn’t told the doctors he’d talked to before going back to his unit. One of his

problems was that he feared heights. Just the thought of going into the mountains had almost

paralysed him, yet he’d done his job and gone back.

He swallowed loudly, and took a sip of water. Deep in his mind, he worried that he’d

frozen the day Jimmy and the medic died because of the fear. If only he hadn’t been so scared

of all the angles and drop-offs around him, maybe he could have got Jimmy out of the way of

the bullet. Or maybe he could have helped the medic with Jimmy before William was shot

himself.

His hands shook as he lifted some meat to his mouth. Breathing deep, he thought he

smelt the scent of blood. Bile choked him and he dropped the food to the ground, covered his

mouth with his hand and scrambled over to a small bush to throw up at its base.

Russell curled into a ball and whimpered slightly as he rocked. His skin tightened like

he was coated with some thick liquid. Shit! He thought he had got rid of those feelings. He

should have known he couldn’t wash something like that off.

Someone knelt next to him and rested a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Russell. I

shouldn’t have asked.”

War’s voice raked over his nerves and he shuddered. “Did I cause their death? I froze

and couldn’t do anything, not even during the battle. All I could think of was the drop-off in

front of our spot in line. I got off some bullets, but I doubt I actually hit anything. Do you

think Jimmy moved in front to stop me from getting shot? The medic didn’t need to be there.

I think Jimmy might have already been dead.”

“I doubt you caused either of their deaths. The men who started the wars are the ones

to blame for everything.” The voice paused for a moment before starting again. “If anyone

was to blame, it would be me. I caused the war, though I had a good reason for what I did.

War and killing have their place in the balance of the world, but it doesn’t make it right.”

“So much blood…”

Russell fought the need to wring his hands or scrape them over his arms and clothes,

trying to wipe his hands clean. God, why wouldn’t the stuff come off? Every time he tried,

the shit never came off and he couldn’t see beyond the crimson coat. Slowly, his mind

became trapped in the whirl of blood and the sound of a bullet hitting the medic’s body.

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War swore under his breath as Russell folded in on himself and started mumbling. This

was great. He thought he’d get through one day without sending Russell into a flashback,

but apparently he hadn’t figured out the right way to ask.

Pushing to his feet, he glanced around, trying to figure out what he should do. Russell

should take one of his pills, but War didn’t think he’d brought them with him. Should he go

back to the house and grab them? Or should he stay with Russell and wait out the flashback?

“Here.”

He jumped as a pale hand appeared over his shoulder with a bottle in its long, elegant

fingers. He took it and popped the top. He tapped out a pill before handing the bottle back to

Death.

“Thank you. Can you get me another mug of water? He’ll need it to swallow the pill, if I

can even get him to take it.”

The Pale Horseman exhaled loudly, but walked away, and War didn’t know why the

man seemed so annoyed. It wasn’t like War had demanded he do all this stuff for him. He

was the one who’d just showed up.

“Russell, I need you to look at me. Come on, fight through whatever shit is going on in

your brain and focus on my voice.” War shook Russell harder than he probably should have,

but he didn’t want the man to slide so far into his mind that he wouldn’t be able to come

back.

“I’m not sure being rough with him is the right thing to do,” Death commented casually

as he held out the mug of water for War.

“Maybe not, but it makes me feel better.” War took Russell’s chin in his hand and lifted

it until Russell met his eyes. “I need you to take this pill. It’ll help get the blood off you.”

Russell frowned and shot a quick glance down at the white pill in War’s other hand.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Take it. I promise everything will just go away.”

Russell did as he asked and Death walked a few feet away to give them some privacy.

Once the medicine had kicked in, Russell looked at War and sadness filled his eyes.

“It happened again, didn’t it?”

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“Yes, but it’s my fault. I asked you questions you weren’t ready to answer. I should

know better than that.”

“No.” Russell cradled War’s face in his hands. “You were trying to help. I need to deal

with this. I don’t want to be on drugs all my life to keep from freaking out. It’s no way to live.

Maybe talking about it will help.”

“I know what your problem is, Russell. The same one I’ve been dealing with for the last

several centuries.”

“What?” Russell’s eyelids drooped and War knew the medicine was taking hold.

“Guilt.”

Russell nodded. “You could be right about that.”

War laughed. “I’m an expert at guilt, so I know it when I see it. Can you stand?”

He helped Russell climb to his feet. Death folded his arms over his chest and stared at

them.

“What are you going to do now? You can’t leave the horses out here on their own with

only the dogs to watch them.”

“I know.” War gritted his teeth. “I’m not a complete idiot. I’ll flash Russell back to the

hut and come back here to watch the horses for the rest of the day. Once I get him home, he’ll

sleep the rest of the time I’m gone.”

Death hummed while War looked at the dogs.

“Guard,” he ordered them.

“Fine. I’ll take him.” Death reached out to pull Russell out of War’s arms.

“No. I’ll do it. I don’t trust you not to just dump him on the bed and disappear.” War

glared at his fellow Horseman.

“Isn’t that what you’re going to do?”

War shook his head. “I’m going to make sure he’s okay before I go. Leave some water

and food for him. Also, a note so he knows where I’m at.”

“Very nice of you to do that.” Death rolled his eyes. “Fine. You go and I’ll hang out here

until you get back. Just don’t take long.”

War didn’t reply. He shut his eyes and thought about his hut. Within a heartbeat, he

opened them to find he stood in the middle of his place. Russell wilted and War went about

putting his lover to bed.

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Chapter Nine

Russell didn’t look up from the fire, even though he heard hoof beats approaching.

He’d woken up two hours ago, embarrassed at the knowledge that he’d had another episode.

Damn. Maybe he should have just stayed in the hospital. Apparently he wasn’t well enough

to be out in the world on his own. Thank God War was around to take care of him.

He stirred the stew he’d managed to make from what he’d found in the house. Not

much, and he hoped it tasted good. How did War do it? Of course, maybe the man didn’t eat,

considering he was immortal and all that. Russell chuckled silently. Maybe he should be

freaking out more about the whole Horseman thing, but at the moment he couldn’t be

bothered to worry about the crazy weird stuff. Considering his own mind failed him on a

routine basis, knowing War was a Horseman didn’t even faze him.

What was all that stuff about feeling guilty? Russell understood one of his issues was

survivor’s guilt. At least that’s what the doctors and therapists had told him at the hospital

before they’d cut him loose. He agreed with them, but knowing it didn’t necessarily mean he

believed it. Did War feel the same way about all the battles he’d fought when he’d been

alive? Could guilt be the one thing driving the man through all the centuries?

It didn’t make sense, as War had been a chief and, from what Russell remembered of

the tribes before humans evolved into civilised beings, they’d fought amongst themselves all

the time. War had said something about being betrayed by someone. Who would have been

close enough to him to betray him? Whoever it was had to have been someone War knew so

well he wouldn’t have asked any questions when the person had filled his ears about the

other tribe.

Footsteps stopped at the open door and he glanced over his shoulder. War leaned

against the doorframe, his arms folded and resting on his bare chest. Russell trailed his gaze

over War’s body, tracing every dip and ridge of muscle. All that golden skin exposed for his

viewing pleasure. A bit of disappointment welled in him when he noticed War still wore

jeans, zipped but left unbuttoned.

“Are you feeling better?”

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Russell nodded, but frowned. “Yes, thank you for all your care. How did you manage

to get me from the pond to the house without us riding here? I do remember the pale guy

being there. How did he get there?”

War shrugged. “I’m not sure how it works, but we have the power to travel through

space and time to wherever we want to go. Somehow Death knew you were having a

flashback and he appeared with your medicine. Then I brought you back here to rest before I

took the horses out to their grazing land.”

“Thank you.” He waved a hand at the pot. “Are you hungry?”

“Yes. You didn’t have to cook anything, Russell. I would have found something to

make when I got home.”

“No big deal. I had time and managed to cook stuff. I hope it tastes all right.”

“It’ll be fine,” War promised.

Russell dished out some stew into two bowls, handing one to War before carrying the

other to the table. War sat and smiled at him. A tingling fluttered in his stomach, warming

him more than the stew ever could. His cock hardened and he shifted, trying to find a

comfortable way to sit where his erection didn’t press tight against the zipper of his jeans.

After taking a bite, War chewed and swallowed. “This is really good, considering what

you had to work with. I know there wasn’t much around here. I need to go hunting

tomorrow. We’ll get some rabbits and birds for fresh meat.”

“Sounds good to me. I tried to do the best I could.”

Russell wanted to duck his head and grin, but he wasn’t sure he wanted War to know

just how much his praise touched him. They finished their dinner in silence. The quiet was

comfortable and Russell felt no need to say anything to break it. War took the bowls and

washed them while Russell took care of the rest of the stew.

After they’d cleaned up, Russell sat down on the bed while War took a chair. They

looked at each other for a second before Russell knelt in front of War. He looked up at the

man while reaching out to take War’s zipper in his fingers. War didn’t stop him, just stared at

him with desire shining in those black eyes.

He peeled the jeans apart, allowing War’s cock out for viewing. Licking his lips, he eyed

the large shaft before him and saliva pooled at the thought of having that in his mouth. He

leant forward and wrapped his lips around the flared head of War’s penis.

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War exhaled sharply and clenched his hands into fists on his thighs. Russell encircled

War’s calves to brace himself while he sucked. He bobbed up and down, taking a little more

in every time until the head hit the back of his throat. He didn’t gag, just kept up the

pressure.

War grunted, then tapped Russell’s shoulder. He stopped and looked at War.

“I want to fuck you.”

Russell blinked, his cock aching painfully and his hole tightening at the thought of War

fucking him. Oh, hell yes. He wanted that more than anything else in the world. He eased

away from War, rocking back on his heels.

“Guess we should get naked and on the bed,” he commented.

War nodded. “Sounds like a good idea to me. I don’t want to fuck you on the floor.

Well, maybe some other time.”

They helped each other to their feet. As they stood by the bed, War stripped Russell’s

shirt and jeans from him before pushing his own jeans to the floor. Russell ran his hands all

over War’s body, learning all the scars and imperfections along the way. Finally they kissed,

bringing their lips together in a gentle promise of more than just sex. They would be making

love this time, even though neither of them had said those words.

It was a tentative emotion between them, having slowly built. Russell ran his fingers

through War’s short hair as their tongues duelled and stroked. He shuddered when War’s

large, warm hands landed on his ass. War and Russell pressed tighter together, chest to

knees.

Russell brought the kiss to an end when his lungs burned from lack of oxygen. He bit

his bottom lip for a moment as he tried to catch his breath. War slapped his butt and he

jumped.

“Climb on the bed. I’ll grab the lube and rubber.” War ordered.

“All right.” Russell did as he was told, though he wiggled his ass as he crawled on the

mattress.

“Cute.” War slapped him again.

“Thanks. I’ve always thought so myself.” He winked over his shoulder as he settled in

the middle of the bed.

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“On your back. I want to look at you while we make love.” War grinned and held up a

foil packet and the bottle of lube.

Russell paused for a moment. He’d never done it face to face. Too intimate usually, but

something told him this time would change his life even more deeply than the war had.

“All right.”

He settled on his back, hooked his hands behind his knees, and spread his legs wide.

After kneeling, War popped open the bottle of slick. He squirted some on his fingers before

setting the lube down next to Russell’s hips.

War rubbed his wet fingers over Russell’s hole, drawing a moan from him. God, he

couldn’t wait to have War inside him. He relaxed as War sank his fingers in to press against

his gland. He jerked as need shot through him from the spot.

“Right there,” he mumbled.

War chuckled and began to pump in and out of him, stretching Russell’s ring of muscle.

Russell rocked, fucking himself with low moans. He didn’t know when two fingers became

three or when his own hand wrapped around his cock to stroke in time with War. His balls

firmed and tightened to his body. Pressure built as his cock grew stiffer.

“War, please. I want to come with you inside me,” Russell pleaded.

He sighed as War removed his fingers. The rustle of the packet being ripped open

caught his attention and he watched as War rolled the condom down his shaft. He stayed

relaxed as War sank in, filling his ass as full as it had ever been.

His eyes met War’s as War stared down at him. War braced his hands on either side of

Russell’s head and they began to move together. Slow and easy to begin with. Each thrust in

met with a tilt of his hips. War’s head dropped and their breath mingled and their rhythm

sped up. Soon the sound of skin smacking against skin filled the room. Russell couldn’t keep

his cries soft.

“God, yes. Harder. Faster,” he demanded, and War complied.

Russell wrapped his legs around War’s waist. War’s washboard abs dragged over

Russell’s cock, bringing him closer to the edge. As his climax exploded over him, he threw

back his head and cried out.

“War!”

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War slammed into him as quickly as possible. Hot liquid spilt between them, coating

their skin with stickiness.

“Russell!” War shouted as he came, filling the condom with his cum.

They trembled and shuddered while the aftershocks of their lovemaking faded away.

When their breathing eased and heartbeats slowed, War climbed out of the bed and took care

of the rubber. Russell watched as War washed himself. His lover returned and wiped him

down as well.

Russell snuggled under the blankets. War pulled on a pair of jeans, and started to walk

out of the hut.

“Where are you going?”

“I have to make sure the horses are settled in for the night and that the dogs have been

fed. I’ll be back in a little bit.”

Russell didn’t say anything after that. He closed his eyes and dozed while War was

gone. He woke up when the mattress dipped and War curled up behind him. He patted

War’s hand where it laid, draped over his side.

“Who betrayed you?”

His question dropped into the dark like a bomb exploding in the middle of a library.

War stiffened, drawing away from him by a few inches. Russell opened his mouth to

apologise and tell War to forget it.

“His name was Asad, and he was my best friend.” War’s voice emerged reluctantly

from the shadows.

Wow. That had to suck, Russell thought. “What did he do? What did you do when you

found out?”

“I killed him.”

Such a bald statement in so chilling a tone shot shivers all over Russell’s skin. Rolling

over to his other side, he peered at War through the darkness. War lay on his back, staring up

at the ceiling. Russell could barely see any sort of expression on War’s face. Maybe a hint of

regret, but Russell assumed War had had centuries to come to terms with the fact that he’d

killed his best friend.

“You killed him? Why did you do that?”

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“He was the only one I trusted to tell me the truth. The only one I let close enough to

know all my secrets. Asad knew just what to say to get me to attack another tribe.” War

inhaled and his jaw tightened. “His lies caused the death of an entire tribe and several of my

men. I couldn’t take a chance he would do it again. In addition to that, he didn’t deserve to

live for the blood he spilled.”

“An eye for an eye?”

War’s head dipped slightly in agreement. “You could say that. I wasn’t a forgiving man.

Not only did he break my trust, he allowed people to die for his own selfish reasons. There

was no way I could allow him to continue to poison everyone’s minds.”

“Why did he do it?”

War shrugged.

“From what I figured out, it was jealousy. One of the women from the neighbouring

tribe turned down his suit and married another man. Asad believed her other suitor to be a

lesser man and became enraged at her refusal. He bothered her. I guess nowadays it would

be known as stalking.”

Russell shook his head. “You never think things like that happened in the old days, but

people are people, no matter what time period they grew up in.”

“True. Asad did everything in his power to break them up. He lied to one about the

other and vice versa. Her chief came to me and I told Asad to leave it be. There were plenty

of other women who would be happy to marry him.” War’s laughter was cold and harsh.

“He promised me he would, but he went behind my back. One day he came to me, carrying

one of the children of my tribe. She’d been raped before being killed. Asad swore to me that

one of the neighbouring tribesmen had done it.”

Sorrow welled in Russell. He didn’t even know the girl, but he could imagine what had

happened to her before she’d died.

“I had no way to know he lied. Asad was the one to rape her and slit her throat. He did

it because he enjoyed hurting her, but also because he knew there were few things I hated

more than the taking of innocent lives. So he played me and I went willingly where he led.”

War shoved off the bed and paced along the length of the room. Russell sat up, placed

the pillows behind his back, and leant back on them. He watched War stride along and he

could see why War’s tribe would have followed him into battle. Even though War’s

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confidence had taken a hit all those years ago, he still held himself with an arrogant lift to his

head and strength in his shoulders. Here was a man Russell would trust to keep him safe, no

matter what the situation was.

He stayed silent, not wanting to interrupt the re-telling of War’s story. Somehow he

understood War needed to tell him what had happened. War might have acted like it didn’t

bother him any more, but Russell could tell War lived with the consequences of Asad’s

actions every minute of his unnaturally second life.

“I approached the chief of the other tribe and asked him to turn over the man Asad

accused of doing it. Of course, the chief claimed he was innocent and wouldn’t allow me to

punish him. I was trying to figure out a better way of handling it when another girl was

raped and murdered. I was so angry, I didn’t think about anything except getting justice for

the girls.”

War shook his head and wrapped his arms around his waist. Russell hated seeing the

man so vulnerable, but, while his mind told him to get up and comfort his lover, Russell’s

heart told him to wait. War needed to speak and if Russell went to him now War wouldn’t

purge himself of all the guilt he carried.

“I gathered my warriors and we attacked the unsuspecting tribe. Since they weren’t

prepared, it was pretty much a massacre. But as I was about to kill a man, he told me about

Asad’s obsession with his woman. How he believed all of this stemmed from that. I didn’t

believe him at first, then slowly I gathered information. Knowledge I should have looked at

before we went to battle. To my everlasting shame, I realised Asad planned it from the

beginning. All those people dead because I chose to believe my best friend.”

“It wasn’t your fault. You acted on information you were given at the time. It wasn’t

like you had forensic capabilities back then to help you determine who did that to those girls.

You trusted Asad, probably from the moment you met him, right?”

War nodded.

“Then how were you to know he was insane? It’s not like most people living next door

to a serial killer know their neighbour kills people. They all say the same thing, ‘He seemed like

such a nice man’. None of them ever guessed he carried women’s heads in his bowling bag.”

War snorted.

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“You’re not to blame for any of it.” He caught the roll of War’s eyes and waved his

hand. “Okay. You are to blame for the war, but you did it out of a belief you were doing it for

the right reasons. I don’t think you can take the blame for everything, though. Asad is the

one who has to shoulder all of the fault and guilt for this.”

Would War believe him?

“The same night I killed Asad, a young boy sneaked into my tent and I woke to see him

standing over me with a knife. I knew he was there to kill me. I probably killed his father or

someone important to him. He deserved to get his revenge on me. I let him stab me without

stopping him. I told him to leave and I didn’t call out for my guards. I knew if I did, they

would find me and I’d be okay.”

“You let him kill you.”

“I told you this already.” War stopped in the middle of the room, letting his chin rest on

his chest, and stared at the floor. “Eventually I admitted to myself that it wasn’t the sane

thing to do. I let my guilt swamp me and I understand I wasn’t thinking straight. It suited me

to have the child do the killing.”

“You bled out during the night after the boy knifed you. You didn’t call out or ask for

help.” Russell sighed. “Was that why you became a Horseman?”

War turned to look at him. “Why, because I died suddenly?”

“Yes. Did anyone ever explain how you were chosen to be the Red Horseman?”

“Death didn’t really say much to me. He didn’t give me a chance to ask any questions,

except who the hell he was. I was kind of thrown into the deep end. Sink or swim, though I

got the feeling Death wouldn’t let me drown.” War angled his head, like a thought had

suddenly popped into his mind. “I wonder if you might not be on to something. I know that

old Pestilence killed himself after the Black Plague took his family and all the people in his

village. I’m pretty sure Famine and Death didn’t die of natural causes either.”

They were getting off topic. After standing, Russell strolled over to War. He gripped the

man’s biceps and shook him a little, bringing War’s gaze on him. Those black eyes caused

him to hesitate momentarily, but he braved on.

“You do accept you weren’t to blame for all of what happened before you died, right?”

Russell let go of War’s arms to cup his face in his hands. “It wasn’t your fault. No one blames

you.”

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“Of course people blamed me. All the families of those men I killed blamed me for it,”

War pointed out.

“I bet if you went back in time to talk to them, they’d say they blamed Asad for starting

the war. You were only doing what a chief would do when faced with the information you

had.”

War didn’t look like he entirely believed what Russell was saying, yet there was

lightness in the man’s eyes. Maybe he was getting there. Maybe hearing it over and over

again would help War figure out he’d paid his debt. He didn’t need to be a Horseman and

keep paying it.

Russell saw War lick his lips and dived in, no thought in his head except to taste War

again. War pulled him close and Russell gasped at the rough fabric rasping against his skin.

War bent and picked him up, tossing him over a shoulder before carrying him outside.

“Where are we going?”

“Don’t wiggle too much. I don’t want to drop you.”

“Okay.”

Russell wasn’t interested in bugging War about things. It was time to find something

else to talk about now. The serious stuff had been discussed. Easing the mood or even just

having sex might be the best thing to do for both of them.

War set him down on a small hill beyond the horse pen. “Stay there. I’ll be right back.”

Dropping to sit on his ass, Russell stared up into the dark sky, counting the stars above

him. He’d never seen them as bright as they looked then. Not even in the backyard of his

family’s house. He leant back on his elbows and simply allowed himself to be swallowed up

in the thoughts of infinity and how truly small he was in the universe.

The crunch of grass under bare feet drew his gaze to War walking back up to him,

carrying several blankets. He stood and helped War spread them out before lying down

again. War joined him on the ground, wrapping his arms around Russell.

He trailed kisses over Russell’s jaw, taking nips along the way. Russell ran his fingers

down War’s spine, discovering which caress drew moans and shivers from War. He tipped

his head back, giving War more access to his skin and he sighed as War flicked his nipple

with the tip of his tongue.

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Holding the back of War’s head, he kept the man focused on his chest. Teeth scraped

over the nub of flesh and he arched, wanting more. He brushed his fingertips down to the

base of War’s spine, lightly rubbing until War whimpered and wiggled.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” He slipped one of his fingers along the crease of War’s

butt, stopping to press against War’s hole.

War paused and looked up at him. “I didn’t bring anything out with me.”

“We can use spit and just take it slowly. I don’t want to hurt you.” Russell kissed his

cheek.

“What about protection?”

Russell hesitated for a second, and then continued, “I’m negative. Been tested almost

every month while I was in the hospital. I’m not sure what they were worried about. I didn’t

get any blood transfusions or anything like that.”

“I’m negative as well, considering HIV wasn’t around when I was mortal.” He frowned.

“Well, it’s possible it was around, but I got tested once when the epidemic started, just to be

sure. Death thought I was an idiot because Horsemen can’t get sick. I only wanted to be sure.

Also, I’ve used protection ever since it became available. Not just with the men I’ve fucked.”

Russell grinned. “I’ve used protection for most of the time I’ve fucked anyone. Once or

twice I got carried away, but it’s been a while since that happened.”

They stared at each other. Both realised how important this moment was for their

relationship. Going bareback meant they trusted each other more than they’d ever trusted

anyone before. Russell lifted his hand to touch War’s face with gentle fingers. War turned his

head and kissed Russell’s fingertips.

Together, they nodded. Their relationship had started with the possibility of Russell’s

death and a rescue from War. They hadn’t really got to know each other, but living together

for however long Russell chose to stay in Mongolia would help them take care of that. Every

instinct in Russell screamed to hold on to War as tightly as possible and never walk away.

War had seen him freak out a couple of times and hadn’t run away at the first sight of

Russell’s mental issues. Russell drew War closer, bringing their bodies together and setting

about showing War how he felt about him.

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Chapter Ten

Neighing woke War the next morning. He stretched and his hand hit the empty blanket

next to him. Sitting up, he looked around to see if he could spot Russell somewhere. There,

standing next to the fence, Russell was stroking one of the horses and it looked like he was

talking to it.

War smiled and stood. He ignored the fact that he was naked and strolled over to

Russell. During the dry season, when the temperatures grew ungodly hot, he often wandered

around his yard naked. Since there weren’t any trees, he had a clear three hundred and sixty

degree view of the steppes around him. No one could sneak up on him, which eased the

warrior inside him.

He encircled Russell’s waist, and drew the man back against him. Russell relaxed,

covering War’s hands with his own.

“Good morning, Russell. How do you feel today?” He brushed his lips over the soft

skin behind Russell’s ear.

“I’m doing well. A little sore from sleeping outside on the ground.” Russell turned his

head to give War a kiss. “How about you?”

“Yeah. I’m sore, but not from sleeping on the ground. I usually spend most nights

outside while I’m moving around with the horses.” He rested his chin on Russell’s shoulder,

studying his horses as they milled around the pen. “I have to go clean up. We have to get the

horses moving out to better grazing. Would you be up to camping out for a day or two?”

Russell laughed. “I used to camp out in the sand and mountains while I was stationed

in Afghanistan. I think I can handle sleeping out under the stars with you. It would probably

be more interesting.”

“Great.” War kissed the side of Russell’s neck once more before he stepped back. “Let’s

get dressed and head out.”

“Sounds good to me.”

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After washing, they packed two sets of saddlebags. War saddled two horses while

Russell cleaned the hut. He whistled and held up his arm. Singqor screamed, warning him

right before he landed. War bent his knees and absorbed the bird’s weight. The gyrfalcon

flapped his wings once before settling down.

“Are you bringing him with us?” Russell asked as he joined him down by the pen.

“Yes. He’ll help us catch food for dinner. Besides it’s getting close to the time when I

need to let him go back into the wild. He needs to get used to being outside and not sheltered

in the shed.” War stroked the back of one finger over Singqor’s breast feathers.

Russell set the saddlebags over the rumps of both horses and swung up onto his

mount’s back. He smiled at War. His bright green eyes were filled with happiness.

Happiness looked good on him and War vowed to keep his lover looking like that for as long

as they were together.

“Ready?”

War launched Singqor into the air. They watched the gyrfalcon pump his wings and lift

his body up to the thermals where he flew in lazy circles, and War mounted. The horse

shifted slightly, getting used to his weight. He never rode the same horse. He swapped them

out at lunchtimes. He wanted them to get used to humans, so it would be easier to sell them

to others.

He whistled for the dogs to start moving the herd out of the pen and on to the steppes.

The horses tossed their heads and whinnied as they moved past him. War understood how

they felt. Excitement flared in him at the thought of being on the move again.

No matter how long he lived, the nomadic lifestyle never left him. He didn’t like

staying in one place for long. Home for him wasn’t an actual building, but any place where

he could see the sun in the wide-open blue sky. Or the moon and stars without the pollution

of man-made lights. The sound of the horses moving reminded him of his original life,

spending his days hunting with his fellow warriors.

Many nights he’d spent lying on the ground, staring up at the black velvet sky. He

remembered the names of the constellations, or what his people had called them. His

memories were different from the modern scientific versions. War allowed himself to relive

happier moments of time spent with family and friends.

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The only memories he didn’t revisit or think about were ones involving Asad. His best

friend had been part of most of his memories since he’d been a child. They’d been

inseparable from their fifth season, becoming warriors the same year. When War became

chief, Asad had become his most trusted friend.

Asad had managed to keep his jealousy and his arrogance hidden from War long

enough for War’s world to fall apart. Asad’s shocked expression had been burned in his

brain from the instant when War had sliced Asad’s throat. His friend had never thought War

would kill him.

Had Asad believed he would get away with it? Had he really thought no one would

have told War the truth? Had he seen War’s dislike of fighting as weakness and not been

worried about any kind of punishment?

War kept his gaze on the herd, making sure none of them straggled or got left behind.

Russell rode alongside him, quietly absorbing the sights, sounds, and smells of the world

around them. War could ride the trail with his eyes closed and had done so more than once.

He let his mind wander back to the moment the knife had cut into Asad’s flesh. The

horrified knowledge that he’d killed his best friend struck him and his hands trembled. War

should have taken Asad captive and allowed the other tribe to deal with him, but there

hadn’t been any tribesmen left. His warriors had killed them all, and he didn’t have a choice.

He was the one who had to pass judgment and execute the punishment.

War knew Asad’s punishment would have been death. There was no way anyone

would have allowed Asad to live after what he’d done to those girls and also for causing

unnecessary war between two tribes. War had had no choice but to exterminate the cancer

before Asad infected anyone else.

“Are you okay?”

He started when Russell reached and touched his hand. War blinked and realised his

cheeks were wet. He swiped his sleeve over his face to dry it off.

“Yes. I’m fine.”

Russell tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. War laughed softly.

“Really, I’m fine. Just remembering some stuff. Memories I don’t usually allow myself

to think about.” War eased his horse closer to Russell’s and laid his hand on Russell’s arm.

“Well, at least you don’t go catatonic or hallucinate when you remember things.”

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“Maybe not, but I’ll admit I haven’t allowed myself to think about the last day of my

life. Too much sorrow and pain for my mind. It’s easier to push the memories to the back of

my brain and go on.”

Russell pursed his lips. “I wish I could do that. Instead of letting my mind take over and

drag me some place I never want to be again.”

War shrugged. “I’m not sure which would be better.”

They rode in silence for several minutes, letting their minds wander. War went back to

the day he’d become chief. How proud he’d been and how it had seemed like he’d achieved

all his life goals in that moment. There was nothing else to strive towards except maybe

finding a woman and having children.

As odd as it seemed at that moment, riding beside a man he was falling in love with,

War had looked forward to falling in love with one of the women in his tribe and fathering

children. When he’d been alive, he’d never thought about another man in sexual terms. Yet

through the centuries he’d lived as a Horseman, War had learnt that love came in every size

and gender. After so many decades, it didn’t matter whether he slept with a man or a

woman. Pleasure was pleasure, and how he achieved climax had no longer been important.

The tribe had cheered when the medicine man had placed the crown of date palm

leaves on his head, proclaiming him chief. He’d won the primary challenge and taken his

place at the head of the tribe. The former chief had died and every able-bodied warrior had

been given a chance to take over the role of headman.

War had survived the fights and taken his place as the leader of the tribe. He’d been a

good leader, knowledgeable of where the tribe could find the best water and hunting. They

rarely fought with other tribes except for the last time and look what happened the one time

he led them into battle.

“Were you a good chief?” Russell broke the silence and War glanced over at him.

“I think so. I became chief when I had seen twenty-five seasons. In all that time, my

tribe never went hungry. The only time we went to war was with the tribe Asad set up for us

to destroy.”

He didn’t want to sound like he was bragging. God knew he wasn’t proud of what he’d

done to the other tribe. Russell met his gaze and lifted a shoulder.

“Sounds like you weren’t too bad as a leader.”

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Snorting, War grimaced. “Look what my last day as chief ended up doing. I massacred

an entire tribe because my best friend lied to me.”

“Ah well, that’s not your fault. It’s Asad’s because he couldn’t deal with being rejected.

If it’s not my fault Jimmy and the medic died, then it’s not your fault Asad chose to use you

as the instrument of his revenge.” Russell wrinkled his nose. “I’ll admit I’m not a therapist,

so take what I said for what it’s worth.”

“Are you saying I should take my own advice? I say you shouldn’t feel guilty for them

dying during war, and you tell me it’s not my fault I believed a man I’d considered more

than just a friend. Asad was my brother in every way except blood.” War heard the

amusement in his voice. “I never could do what I say.”

Russell didn’t say anything, just nodded.

They were going in the opposite direction from the day before. The dogs kept the

horses moving in a slow steady stream. Once they reached the small river about four hours

from the house, they would stop for lunch and to allow the horses to drink. The grazing

acreage he used was another hour on the other side of the river. They would end up camping

out for several days while the horses ate their fill.

Singqor screeched loudly and dove. They watched the gyrfalcon pluck a mouse from

the underbrush.

“Is that what he’ll be catching for our dinner?”

War looked at Russell and chuckled. “You don’t like mouse?”

“Can’t say I’ve ever had it. We’d have to collect an ungodly amount of them to fill just

one of us.” Russell rolled his eyes. “I know they have like a million babies at one time, but I

still think Singqor would get tired before we had enough to eat.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. When it’s time for dinner, Singqor will catch us something

bigger than a mouse. He’s catching himself a snack.”

Russell wiggled his eyebrows and War laughed. He paused, trying to remember when

the last time he’d had such fun with anyone had been. More years than he hated to think

about came to mind. For centuries, he’d let himself become more isolated, rarely coming into

contact with any human, only the native nomads who herded their horses around the

steppes and Death, who would come to get him for a mission.

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War hated to see his pale comrade because he knew it meant he would have to go

somewhere in the world and start a war. Mortals would kill and die, all to keep balance

between good and evil. Yet War didn’t know how mortals fighting each other balanced the

world. Death told him not to worry about it. Do what he was told and accept people would

die.

Russell started humming as they continued their ride. War whistled occasionally to the

dogs, making sure they kept the herd moving in the right direction. The horses ignored him

and Russell for the most part, grazing slowly along the remembered trail.

Finally they reached the river and he brought his horse to a halt.

“It’s time for lunch. We’ll rest here for an hour, then move on to the night grazing

land.”

Russell groaned as he clambered off his horse. He watched as War unsaddled the mare

Russell had ridden, and rubbed her down before letting her return to the herd. War did the

same thing to his own gelding and then took the saddlebags over to the riverbank. He spread

out some blankets and sat on them. Russell joined him as War glanced around, checking to

make sure there weren’t any snakes around. The dogs would keep an eye out as well.

“Do you want to eat first? Or would you rather take a dip in the river before we have

lunch?”

“I would love to take a quick swim.”

“So would I.”

War stood, and stripped, managing not to fall over when his gaze landed on Russell’s

naked ass as Russell kicked off his pants before sliding into the water. War entered the water

and shuddered at the chill shattering over his flesh. He dropped under the surface, letting the

clean water wash over him and holding his breath until his lungs burned.

He broke into the air, gasping as his head hit the surface. He filled his body with

oxygen and coughed when he swallowed some water. A splash caught his attention and he

spied Russell swimming happily around in the river. With a smile, War slipped under the

water again and swam along to where Russell stood on the sand.

He reached out and wrapped his hand around Russell’s ankle. He yanked and Russell

flailed into the water. They played in the water like children, splashing and shouting. War

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scooped water into his hands and tossed it at Russell, who ducked and dived to tackle War

into the river.

They pressed their bodies together and War gasped as he felt his erection rubbing

against Russell’s. He threaded his fingers in Russell’s hair, and brought Russell’s mouth to

his. Their chilly lips met and they kissed, finding joy in the day and their time together.

War eased back slowly, reluctant to break the kiss, but not wanting to make love in the

river. He took Russell’s hand and led his lover from the water to the blankets. They dropped

to their knees, kissing for a few minutes before lying down. War braced himself on his elbow

to stare at Russell.

He ran his finger down Russell’s nose and over his mouth, pinching Russell’s bottom

lip between his thumb and finger and giving it a tug. Russell swiped his tongue over the tip

of War’s finger. He pressed it into Russell’s mouth and gasped as Russell sucked on it.

“Shit,” he swore in a soft voice, grinding his cock against Russell’s hip.

Russell laughed and arched, flipping them so he was on top. War didn’t mind. He

closed his eyes and lifted his chin, giving Russell all the skin he wanted. Russell nibbled his

way down War’s throat to flick the man’s nipple with his tongue.

War groaned and arched his back. He cupped the back of Russell’s head, keeping

Russell focused on War’s nipples. Of course, Russell refused and moved down to dip his

tongue into War’s belly button. War huffed, and then groaned when Russell took War’s cock

into his mouth.

Russell teased and sucked while War wiggled, absorbing the sensations of Russell

working his shaft like a pro. War let his thighs fall open, allowing Russell to settle between

them. The wet touch of fingers warned him a second before Russell breached his hole with

them.

Pleasure coursed through him as Russell stretched the ring of muscles protecting his

inner passage. He closed his eyes and gave himself over to the feelings of Russell

surrounding him in every way. It wasn’t long before his climax threatened to overwhelm

him, but he didn’t want to come unless Russell was inside him.

War froze, and tapped Russell’s shoulder. “Honey, I’m gonna come any second now. I

need you inside me.”

Russell pulled away from him with a happy grin. “I’ll be glad to take you.”

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They both winced as Russell pushed into War. Burning pain turned into desire as War

grew used to being filled with Russell. Reaching out, War fisted the blankets on each side

and nodded. Russell began moving, slow and steady at first until he found the right rhythm

to make War cry out with each stroke.

War wasn’t ashamed at the noises he made while Russell fucked him. First of all, there

wasn’t anyone around to hear them, and secondly, he wanted his lover to know how much

he enjoyed their lovemaking.

“War!” Russell shouted as he slammed into War and came, flooding War with hot

liquid.

“Yes.” War grunted and came as well, spilling his seed all over his stomach.

Russell collapsed on him and they lay, stuck together by the drying cum on War’s

stomach. War closed his eyes and drifted, listening to the sounds of the horses moving

around them and Russell’s panting. Soon his own heartbeat evened out and he smoothed his

hand down Russell’s back.

“Do we have time for a nap?” Russell questioned quietly.

“Not really. We need to get the herd moving to the night grazing grounds.” War

sighed. “We can go to bed early tonight if you want.”

“I’ll be okay. I just like to cuddle after I have sex, and I haven’t had a lot of chances to

do that.” Russell nuzzled War’s chin.

“I think we can do that for a little bit.” He gathered his courage. “Russell, I wanted to

let you know something.”

Russell stiffened and rose a few inches to look down at him. “That doesn’t sound

good.”

He shrugged, uncomfortable with the way Russell was studying him. “I hope it’s good

news, but I’m not sure how you’ll feel about it.”

“Just come out and say it before I start to panic.”

A brief snort of laughter escaped from War. Russell wasn’t the type to panic and he

doubted Russell would worry about anything War had to say.

“All right. I really like you.”

Russell’s shoulders slumped and he heaved a relieved sigh. “Thank God. I thought you

were going to tell me I had to leave or that you were married.”

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“Married? Trust me, I wouldn’t have done anything with you if I were married.” War

shook his head. “What kind of man do you take me for?”

“I didn’t really think you’d do something like that, but you never know. It was

possible.” Russell grinned at him. “I will say I’m falling for you.”

“Seriously?”

Russell pursed his lips for a moment while he thought. “Yes, seriously. I can’t say for

sure it’s love, because I’ve never been in love before, but I do care for you. I love the sex, but

that’s not all I like. I love talking to you or just riding the horses and not saying a word.”

“Sometimes silence is the best way of telling how well you get along with someone. If

you can stand being with the person when it’s quiet, then you might be able to deal with the

loud times.” War met Russell’s amused gaze. “Did that make any sort of sense?”

“I got the gist of it.” Russell climbed to his feet and held out a hand to War. “Let’s wash

and get dressed. After all the fun, I’m hungry.”

War let Russell pull him up and they headed back into the chilly water. A quick rinse,

and they dried before getting dressed. They sat and ate, no words necessary between them.

Their feelings were out in the open and they would have to see where it all went from that

moment on. Out on the steppes there weren’t any distractions and they only had each other

to talk to.

“You remember who you were from before you died?” Russell asked, looking up from

the fruit he ate.

War nodded. “Yeah. I never forgot anything about my life. My name was Baqir and I

was the chief of the Al Sidah tribe.”

“Did you go back to look in on them when you realised you weren’t really dead?”

“Once. Death told me I wasn’t supposed to have anything to do with my old life. I

chose to leave it, so I had no right to go back to it.”

“You know, Death sounds like a bastard,” Russell said.

War thought about Russell’s comment for a moment. Death could be an asshole when

he wanted to be, but War always got the feeling it was because Death didn’t want them

longing for something they couldn’t have back. Also, it struck War as being part of Death’s

personality. The Pale Rider didn’t like to show how much he cared for his fellow Horsemen,

probably because, if he did, he could get hurt.

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Yet War had a feeling Death had helped Pestilence—or Aldo as he was now known—to

find his way back to the mortal world. Maybe their fearless leader understood how they felt,

even though he didn’t show it very often.

“I’m sure he has a right to be. I mean no one wants to see him. He’s Death, the guy who

will escort you to the gates. How often is he greeted with happiness and joy?” War lifted a

shoulder. “Also, I don’t think he regrets whatever he did in the mortal world to earn his

position as a Horseman.”

“Do you regret it?” Russell finished his lunch and leant back on his hands, watching the

river flow by.

“Yes, I do, and I know for a fact Aldo and Famine both regret how they ended up as

one of us.” War paused while he gathered his thoughts, and then continued, “We not only

regret our premature deaths, but the circumstances leading up to our deaths. I don’t know

what the others did, but I assume it was something that caused them to feel guilty.”

Russell let his head drop back, and with his eyes closed he looked like he was soaking

up the sun’s rays. It was a beautiful sight and War’s heart kicked in his chest. Shit! He

couldn’t be falling in love. Not this soon. He admitted he felt something special for Russell,

but was it love?

You’re an idiot. Death’s voice echoed through his head.

Maybe I am. He would freely admit to being an idiot. What makes you call me that?

You’ve loved him since the moment you first laid eyes on him. What’s holding you back from

telling him all the deep emotions swirling in your heart?

War rolled his eyes and he must have made some sort of noise because Russell opened

one eye and looked at him.

“Yes?”

“Nothing.” War gathered up all the food and stuffed what was left into their

saddlebags.

You can’t run from the truth, War, and the truth is staring you in the face.

Since when did you become a matchmaker?
Since I realised the rest of you weren’t happy doing what you’ve been drafted to do.

And you are?

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War managed to get two horses out of the herd and saddled while waiting for Death to

answer him. He waved Russell over to give him a leg up. Before mounting, Russell brushed a

kiss over War’s lips.

They’d been riding for an hour before Death chose to answer War’s question.

Yes, I do like what I do. I carry no guilt for what I did in my mortal life, which makes me

different from all of you.

Death had a point and War couldn’t argue with that. He still felt guilty for the battle,

but he was starting to see that the whole situation hadn’t been entirely his fault. Maybe it

would help him deal with what he did in this life.

And maybe help Russell with his problems. He’s still wrestling with his own form of guilt.

I know and I am working on it.

He didn’t get a response from Death, so War figured that the Horseman had chosen to

end the conversation. War didn’t mind. He wanted to enjoy the sound of the wind blowing

through the grass and listen to Russell breathing next to him.

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Chapter Eleven

Russell fumbled with the blankets covering him. When he crawled out from under

them, he scurried a few feet away, and wrapped his arms around his knees. He rested his

forehead on his knees, trying to calm his breathing. Sweat beaded on his chest and back,

making him clammy and chilled.

Rustling behind him informed him War was awake. He gritted his teeth and clenched

his hands. He wished his nightmare hadn’t been bad enough to cause War to wake up. A

warm presence settled right behind him and War’s hand landed on his shoulder.

“Are you okay?”

Russell shrugged slightly. He wasn’t falling into a flashback or anything like that, but

he wasn’t completely in the here and now.

“You don’t need any of your medicine, do you?”

Shaking his head, he took a deep breath. “No. Just a nightmare.”

War hummed before encircling Russell’s waist and tugging him back against War’s

chest. He stretched his legs out on either side of Russell, surrounding him with warmth and

caring.

“Was it about the day Jimmy and William were killed?” War murmured in his ear,

voice low and non-judgemental.

“Yes, though it morphed into me being stranded on the same ledge as before. Only this

time, it wasn’t nearly as big and I had to hold on or else I’d fall. I could hear Jimmy and

William yelling for help, but I couldn’t help them. Hell, if I’d let go, I would have fallen

myself. Their screams got louder and louder.” He shuddered. “When I looked down, I was

hanging above a river of blood.”

War didn’t speak, but just having his arms around him made Russell feel safe, like he

would never fall into the abyss again. He rested even more of his weight on War, knowing

his lover would be able to handle it.

“I know this all has to do with my survivor’s guilt and being covered with blood and

other shit when they died.” Russell turned and pressed his lips to War’s shoulder. “I’m not

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stupid about the whole psychology behind my mental problems. Yet I can’t stop reliving

those moments.”

“We all relive things. I relive the instant my sword stabbed Asad in the throat. The look

of shock in his eyes, and standing there as the light drained out of them.”

War spoke in a soft voice, but Russell could hear the sorrow in his words. Why did

Russell see the truth about War’s situation and could offer advice on how to fix it? Yet he

couldn’t seem to get a handle on his own

“Were you and Jimmy good friends?”

Russell closed his eyes and thought about Jimmy. Were they friends? Yes, in the way

that untried boys became friends as they evolved into men. Jimmy was one of the few guys

Russell had gone through basic training with and they’d been assigned to the same unit.

While they hadn’t known everything about each other, they’d fought next to each other

during the time they’d been in Afghanistan.

“I think so. We didn’t hang out a lot off base, but still we talked about our families and

stuff. I trusted him to have my back when I needed him. Maybe that’s the issue. When he

needed me, I didn’t do anything to help him.”

“Did you know one of the insurgents was going to shoot him?”

“No.” Russell rolled his eyes. “Of course, I had no idea who they were shooting at.

Sometimes I think they just fired their guns without aiming, hoping they would hit someone

by accident.”

War snorted. “They aren’t quite as well trained as you were. Do you see what I was

getting at, though? You had no way of knowing Jimmy was going to be shot. If you did, I’m

sure you would have done something to help him. Also, you didn’t know the medic was

going to be hit as well. Did you know the medic’s name?”

Russell shook his head. “He joined our unit while I was in the hospital, and I never

could remember his name. Does that make me a bad person?”

“No, Russell. It doesn’t make you a bad person for not remembering his name. You

remember what he looks like, right? Because you dream about him every night and it’s like

you’ve memorised every aspect of his face.”

“You’re right. The worst part is looking into his eyes and seeing the shock as the bullet

hit. Then watching his head explode and cover me with blood and brain matter. I couldn’t

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seem to clean my hands and face enough after that. The doctors said it was one of the

repetitive things I did while I was catatonic. I continually washed my hands.”

He held them up to the moonlight and turned them back and forth.

“There are times when I still see blood and sand on them, even though I know they’re

clean.”

War took his hands in his and squeezed them. “I’m here to remind you, their blood isn’t

on your hands. You were a victim as much as they were. Russell, there wasn’t anything you

could have done to save them. I could give you platitudes and tell you it was their time to go.

Destiny had chosen the heat of battle for their lives to end.”

Russell pushed out of War’s arms and turned to face him. “Do you really believe that?”

“I told you I could tell you that, but I won’t. At least, I won’t mean it when I say it. I

don’t know why people die when they do. Death tells me there is a plan for the world. Fate,

destiny, or whatever you want to call it, has been plotted out for some purpose. For good or

evil, I have no idea, but it must have something to do with the balance of the world. As

Horsemen, we are concerned with making sure neither side gets out of hand.”

“I don’t understand how war and disease help keep things even.” Russell had the odd

feeling of being stupid, like he was missing a very obvious point.

War grimaced. “Neither do I, but Death assures me we’re helping. Maybe it has to do

with keeping the populations from exploding. I really don’t know, and since Death is the

only one I can ask I have to go on what he says.”

“I have the feeling Death doesn’t tell you everything he knows,” Russell said.

“You’re right. He doesn’t, and it’s really weird because he is the youngest of us in terms

of years as Horseman.” War gazed off into the distance while he thought.

“Who’s the oldest out of you four?”

“Well, Pestilence doesn’t count because he’s new. We got a new comrade when Aldo

fell in love and became mortal again.” War scrunched his nose. “I think Famine is the oldest

of us now, though he can’t be much older than me. I think we came from around the same

period. I’m not sure what he did to get drafted as a Horseman. We don’t talk about our

former lives; makes it easier to accept the new one.”

“Where do the others live?” Russell probably shouldn’t be asking questions, but his

curiosity was demanding answers and War seemed willing to spill them.

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War gathered Russell back into his arms, and they sat on the small hill, overlooking the

herd. Russell stifled a contented sigh. How could just sitting in the dark, wrapped in another

person’s arms, feel so much like home? Who would have thought he’d find a place he loved

by travelling to the other side of the world?

“Aldo used to live deep in the jungle of the Amazon. He saw fewer people than I did.”

War laughed. “Now he lives in Boston because his partner is a professor at Harvard. I’m not

sure if Famine has a home. He tends to wander the countries of Africa, spreading his awful

power over many groups. I think he’s originally from that particular continent anyway.

Death is the only one of the current Horsemen who lives anywhere near people. He lives in

Paris.”

Russell made a soft noise. “Is Death French?”

The movement behind Russell suggested War had shrugged.

“I’m not sure. He doesn’t have much of an accent, but that doesn’t mean anything. He’s

been Death since the seventeen hundreds, so he’s had time to lose it if he wanted to. Death

does seem more at home among mortals than we do.”

One of the horses whinnied and Russell watched as the dogs stood, shook off the dew,

and circled the herd, checking the perimeter for danger. They didn’t bark so he relaxed a

little. There wasn’t much out there for them to worry about, but it paid to stay alert.

“Having a couple more sets of eyes and three good noses are some of the reasons why I

use the dogs. They stay alert, even if I doze off,” War explained.

“You used the word ‘alive’ a few minutes ago. Why? It’s not like you aren’t alive right

now,” Russell pointed out.

“For us, being alive is different from what we are now. Being alive was back when we

were mortal.” War hesitated for a second before continuing, “We’re immortal now. We can’t

die or be killed, though that seems a little odd, doesn’t it? Why should we worry about being

killed? For the most part, people don’t see us. We pass through the world unnoticed.”

“If that’s true, then why did I see you?”

“Hmmm…good question. You shouldn’t have been able to. Oh, you were seriously

injured, and probably close to dying. You said you saw Death before I showed up.”

“Yeah. He told me to hang on because help was coming.”

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The noise War made sounded like exasperation. “He’s a sneaky bastard. He never told

me he talked to you on the ledge before I found you. I happened to be in the area because he

told me I needed to be there. “

“So Death is a matchmaker, huh? Who would have thought that?”

Russell laughed and War joined in.

“’A hopeless romantic’ isn’t the first thought that pops into my head when I see Death,”

War admitted.

“I bet.”

Their conversation drifted into casual chatter about silly things, and questions to get to

know each other like favourite colours and songs. War impressed Russell by being rather

current on his music choices. Russell was shocked when War admitted he hadn’t been to a

movie in a long time.

“When was the last time you saw a movie in the theatre?”

War narrowed his gaze while he tried to remember. “I think it was The Godfather.”

Russell shook his head in surprise. “You’re kidding me? It’s been thirty-nine years since

you’ve gone to the movies? I think that might be a record.”

“I don’t think so. I think Famine has me beat. I don’t think he’s ever seen a movie. They

didn’t exist when he was alive, and he spends most of his time in third-world countries. And

thank you for making me feel like a freak.”

Russell turned in War’s arms and wrapped his own around War’s neck. He brought

their lips together in a gentle kiss. He nibbled on War’s bottom lip, catching it between his

teeth and tugging on it lightly before letting it go and leaning back.

“I’m sorry. I’ve just never met anyone who hasn’t seen recent movies. Of course, I’ve

never met a man like you before, and I guess I shouldn’t be surprised by anything you have

or haven’t done.”

“I’m experienced enough in one thing to keep you happy.” War wiggled his eyebrows

and Russell laughed.

“Yes, you do keep me happy.” He pushed to his feet and held out his hand to War.

“Let’s go back to bed and see just how happy you can make me.”

War let Russell haul him to his feet and they wandered back to the blankets. Russell

stood while War shook them out.

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“Have to make sure no creatures crawled in to get warm.”

“Yeah. Nothing kills the mood faster than getting bit by a snake or spider.”

They slipped into the makeshift bed and turned towards each other, coming together

with easy desire, touching in all the right spots to build their pleasure. When War sank into

his ass, Russell inhaled deeply, staring up into his lover’s black eyes and seeing all his

emotions reflected back at him.

Rocking in unison, Russell and War chased each other up along the path of lust and

need until the pleasure swelled to the point of pain. Russell grunted as the bubble burst and

his climax overwhelmed him, causing stars to blur his vision. War threw back his head and

shouted his joy to the night sky, filling Russell with his hot cum.

Both men trembled as the aftershocks of their mutual climax faded away. War kept his

body braced above Russell, but Russell wanted him pressed tight to him. He embraced War,

tugging to bring the man down on top of him.

“I don’t want to crush you,” War protested.

“I’m not fragile, you idiot. I’ll be fine. I can toss you off if you get too heavy.” Russell

encouraged War to lie on him.

War rolled so they were lying on their sides, but still touching. Russell moaned as War’s

limp cock slid from him.

“We should probably clean up before we fall back asleep,” War suggested.

Russell didn’t reply, his eyes closed as he breathed in War’s scent, a familiar mixture of

sweat and horse. He never thought he’d like that, but it had become his favourite smell in the

entire world, even more comforting than the smell of grass on a warm summer breeze.

He mumbled in protest as War left his side. Russell listened to him walking to the small

pool of water they were camped next to and dipping the bucket into it. He must have drifted

off because he jumped when War swiped Russell’s thighs with a cold, wet cloth. He didn’t

fight as War rolled him around, cleaning him quickly.

Sighing, he snuggled back into War’s arms when the man returned to their blankets. He

kissed War’s chest.

“Thank you,” Russell whispered.

“For what?”

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“For staying up with me and loving me until I was too tired to think about my

nightmare.”

War nuzzled his face into Russell’s. “It wasn’t a hardship, sweetheart. Any time you

can’t sleep, wake me up. I’ll listen to you, or talk to you, or just fuck you until you can rest in

my arms.”

Russell started to say something, but a yawn interrupted him and he found he didn’t

really have the energy to finish the conversation. With War beside him, Russell didn’t worry

about bloody dreams or a guilty conscience waking him up.

* * * *

A hard nudge to his shoulder woke War up and he opened his eyes to see a long black

leather boot in front of his face. He studied it, trying to get his mind up to speed and figure

out who owned the boot.

“Get up.”

Blinking, he groaned. “Why are you here?”

Death snorted and poked him again with his foot. “I’m here to get you. There’s work to

be done. I can’t have you lazing around all the time. It’s bad for business.”

“What sort of business is that?” Russell spoke up from where he lay, facing the opposite

direction.

War sat up and scrubbed his hands over his face while he thought about Death’s

appearance. “I can’t leave. Russell isn’t experienced enough to get the horses back to the hut

with the dogs. Maybe if he had a little more time out here he’d be able to do it.”

“I’ll get someone to come and help him.” Death crossed his arms in front of his chest

and glared at War. “You really don’t have any choice in the matter. It’s your job.”

“I do think I have a choice. This war—or whatever you want to call it—can wait a day

while I take the herd back.” War had never told Death no before.

He meant what he’d said. Russell wasn’t capable at the moment of herding the horses

and getting them back to the pens without something going wrong. War remembered how

long it had taken him to learn from the nomadic herders when he’d arrived in Mongolia.

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Death didn’t look happy about it. Russell groaned, rolled out from under the covers

and stood, stretching and yawning. Both War and Death stared at him, ogling his naked

form.

“I can see why you lust after him,” Death commented casually.

Russell blushed fiery red and snatched up his clothes, dashing for the closest tree.

Luckily there were a few on the banks of the river. They watched him scurry away before

War stood and dressed, unconcerned about being naked in front of Death.

“You didn’t have to embarrass him like that.”

Death shrugged. “I didn’t think he’d be bothered by my words. Are you sure you can’t

come right now?”

“Yes.”

The Pale Rider heaved an annoyed sigh and grimaced. “Fine. I guess I should help you

and we’ll get this taken care of faster.”

War shot him an incredulous glance. “You’re going to herd horses with me?”

“You sound surprised? I can ride any horse, and not just my mount as a Horseman.”

Death rested his hands on his hips and glared at War. “I rode horses most of my life when I

was alive. Aside from carriages, they were the only mode of transportation that didn’t

include walking, and I wasn’t going to walk anywhere.”

“Too good for that, huh?” Russell came out from behind the tree, clothes on and a

disgruntled look on his face. “Do you get a kick out of sneaking up on people like that?”

”A man of my social position simply didn’t walk anywhere in Paris while I was

mortal.” Death sniffed.

“Did you die during the French Revolution?” Russell’s narrowed eyes threw sparks at

Death.

“No. A couple of years before actually. The French Revolution was the first large-scale

event I dealt with when I became Death.” The pale-haired man seemed rather smug about

the whole thing.

“I’m guessing you were an aristocrat, which is why you never walked anywhere. How

can you be so smug about the massacre that was the French Revolution? Wasn’t it your own

people who died?” Russell started to roll up the blankets, even while taking Death to task for

his callousness.

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“I never considered them my people. Trust me, if they’d known the truth about me,

they would have shunned me. They only accepted me into their society because I had

money.”

“So you were a rich man, but without a title?”

Death’s jaw tightened and War could see the man’s usual cool detachment starting to

fray. He didn’t know if that was a good thing or not, but he was curious to see how Death

would respond to Russell’s question.

“This is the last thing I will say. I was the only son of a very rich man, but we had no

title and so were tolerated in Parisian society because of our money.” Death took a deep

breath and looked at War. “Are we going? If we don’t leave now, I will drag you to your

horse and force you to come with me, leaving him to get your herd home without help.”

War winced as it became apparent that Russell had touched a raw nerve. He moved off

to get the horses ready.

He turned back and asked, “Are you going to ride? I don’t have an extra saddle.”

Death stared at him for a moment. “I will ride without a saddle. Just throw a blanket on

one of your horses and use a rope as a hackamore. I promise not to be rough on my mount. I

can’t use my own horse for this. Your herd would panic if he came close.”

“Where do your horses go when you’re not using them?” Russell had finished packing

their stuff into the saddlebags and had them tossed over one shoulder.

Death wandered off, not acknowledging him. Russell laughed softly.

“Guess I pissed him off with my questions, huh?”

“I think you touched on a sore subject for him. I don’t think he’s ever taken the time to

think about his former life. He seems bitter about his station in life and, to be honest, he has a

right to be. During his time, bastards weren’t treated nearly as well as they are now. The

illegitimate son of a nobleman and a maid was something to be ashamed of back in those

days.”

“Do you think his mother was a maid?”

War shot Russell a glance. “It doesn’t matter what position his mother held. She was

obviously not a member of the ruling class.”

Russell shrugged. “No wonder he didn’t act upset about the whole French Revolution.”

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“Whatever. Can we just focus on getting back to the house before he kidnaps me? I

don’t think he was bluffing.”

War took a pair of saddlebags from Russell and put them over his horse’s withers. He

helped Russell mount and went to see if Death needed assistance. The pale man studied his

horse for a moment before leaping lightly up on him. With a rather smug smile, Death met

War’s gaze.

“Don’t get too proud of yourself, you arrogant prick,” War muttered.

“Are you going to answer my question? Where do your horses go when you’re not

being the Horsemen?” Russell returned to the conversation as they got the herd moving in

the right direction.

“They aren’t real horses. They are spirits provided to us for our missions. When they

are no longer needed, they disappear back to wherever they come from.” Death kept his eyes

on the horses, not looking at either of them.

“I guess that makes as much sense as you even existing in the first place,” Russell

murmured, loud enough for War to hear him, but not so loud that Death would. “Where are

you dragging War off to now?”

“None of your business. You no longer fight, so you have no worries about where

battles are taking place.” Death dismissed Russell with a vague wave of his hand.

“Why shouldn’t I be concerned where my fellow soldiers might be sent to next?”

Russell spoke up, his angry tone surprising Death.

War rolled his shoulders. He was tired of their antagonism towards each other. Thank

God, Death rarely hung out with him, or else he might have had to gag them both.

“Not all the battles and skirmishes War starts are big enough to be fought by armies.

Sometimes it is simply a fight amongst gangs or small squabbles.” Death gestured towards

War. “Little fights can have the same effect on people as great wars. His power brings those

emotions to the surface and helps work out the imbalance in the world.”

“Who gives these assignments? Do you decide where a fight should break out or where

Pestilence needs to appear?”

Death growled low in his throat. “I didn’t come here to be interrogated by you. I came

to help and yet all I get is questions. None of what happens with the Horsemen is any of your

business. You shouldn’t even know we exist, yet for some strange reason it is allowed by our

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superiors. I should have been given the order to wipe your brain clean and send you back to

Kansas.”

He rode off, with Russell and War staring after him in shock. Russell looked over at

War and held his hands up.

“What did I do? I didn’t think my questions were that bad. I mean, I stayed away from

any personal stuff.”

War leaned over and patted Russell’s knee. “Questioning Death isn’t something people

usually do. I don’t think he likes it much.”

Russell snorted. “You think? Well, come on. I promise not to talk at all since we need to

get these horses home before you leave.”

“Yeah. Let’s do it. The quicker I leave, the sooner I can get back.”

They nudged their mounts and went their separate ways around the herd.

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Chapter Twelve

Staring out over the sand, War pictured what the place had looked like the last time

he’d been there. The sand was the same and he laughed. Like sand ever changed. Only the

shape of the dunes had changed because of the wind. Hell, some of the grains could have

been there all those centuries ago.

Missing were the tents and people going about their daily chores. The women tending

the wounded were gone, along with the exhaustion that had swamped him as he’d stood on

the outcropping looking down at his tribe. No rush of satisfaction at winning the battle or gut

churning sorrow at what he had to do.

He turned to look at the ground behind him. There once had been a darker spot where

Asad’s blood had spilt onto it, yet nothing remained of such a pivotal moment in War’s

mortal life.

“Why are you here?”

He didn’t look up when Death approached him. He continued to eye the dirt, seeing in

his memories Asad’s death throes and his confession of all the evil he’d done.

“Did you think this spot would look different? The terrible thing you did should have

marked this place, like sowing it with salt or something like that?”

When it was put that way, War felt silly, but some part deep inside him had thought it

would be different. Killing Asad had damaged War’s heart in a fundamental way. Maybe

because he had been War’s best friend and had betrayed him, or possibly because his best

friend had been a psychotic bastard who’d had no problem hurting girls to promote his own

cause.

“You need to let go of this guilt you’ve been carrying for centuries, War. None of what

happened was your fault. We’ve told you that and you nod like you’re listening, but I feel

you do that because you think that’s what we want to see.”

Death’s words shattered the wall War had built around his guilt, guarding it like the

Hope Diamond. Russell had created cracks with his love and reassurance, and the bricks had

begun to tumble, but it took Death to take the last bit down.

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“You’re right.” He glanced over at Death and smiled. “It wasn’t my fault, though I’ll

always accept some of the blame for not listening when I was told no one from the other tribe

had done those things to the girls.”

“Okay, I’ll give you that. You probably should have done more investigating, but

hindsight’s twenty-twenty, comrade, and you had to go with what you had at the time.”

Death waved a hand to encompass the entire desert landscape in front of them. “During your

time, life was harsh and you didn’t have the luxury to figure out the truth. You had to act on

what you knew. You’d never doubted anything Asad had told you before, so why would

you then?”

“True.”

War scuffed his foot over the section of sand where Asad had died, a maniacal gleam in

his eyes as he declared he was the wronged party in the whole thing. Yet the truth swirled in

front of War and shone in the faces of the girls Asad had violated and killed. He’d seen cold

vengeance in the eyes of his own assassin as the boy had slid the blade into his chest.

Whatever sacrifice had been needed to make up for the wrong done to the innocent tribe had

been paid with War’s death.

“What makes it different this time? Why are you ready to let everything go now?”

War shrugged. “I think it has to do with talking to Russell and trying to convince him

his guilt is misplaced. I guess I finally listened to the words.”

“Let go of the past and go embrace your future. Russell is waiting for you to return. He

needs your help to accept what he’s gone through.” Death kept his gaze on the dunes in front

of them. “You have been good for each other.”

“I know.” War swallowed and said out loud what he’d been hesitant to say to Russell.

“I love him.”

“I know.” Death gave him a flash of a smile. “Now go tell him that.”

“All right. I hope I don’t see you soon.” War whistled for his horse and swung astride

the red stallion when it appeared. “Goodbye, Death.”

Death didn’t acknowledge him; simply waited until the clap of thunder told him War

had gone. “Goodbye, Baqir. We’ll not be seeing each other again.”

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His horse landed in front of War’s hut, and War climbed off. He patted the stallion on

the shoulder and the horse nudged him once before whirling around and leaping into the air.

Another crash of thunder and it was gone.

Russell stepped from the house, wiping his hands on a towel. “Was it successful?”

War shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. I think Death is the only one who ever

finds out if what we do works or not.”

“And he wouldn’t tell you, even if you spitted him and roasted him over a fire.”

“Rather vicious, aren’t you?”

He strolled over to where Russell stood, grabbed Russell’s shoulders and brought their

lips together. He took his time, teasing every nook and cranny of Russell’s mouth, and

drawing moans from Russell.

Russell encircled War’s waist and pulled their bodies together. War grunted when his

erection crashed into Russell’s. Finally, when both men had used up all their oxygen and

their knees were getting wobbly, War broke off the kiss and brushed Russell’s hair from his

lover’s forehead.

“I missed you,” War admitted.

“I missed you as well, though it was only a day or two since you left.” Russell winked.

“I found I didn’t like sleeping alone.”

“I didn’t sleep at all. I tried to get done as soon as possible, so I could get back here.”

War stopped, then met Russell’s gaze. “I went to the place where I killed Asad.”

Russell took his hand and led him inside to the bed. They lay back, arms wrapped

around each other. War rested his head on Russell’s shoulder.

“How did that go?” Russell asked softly.

“I finally let go of all the guilt I felt, not only for going to war with an innocent tribe, but

for believing Asad in the first place. I’ve listened to Death tell me over and over it wasn’t my

fault. I guess I never really believed him deep inside.” War pulled back to look Russell in the

eye. “It took talking to you and trying to convince you of the fact you aren’t guilty for me to

accept the truth.”

Russell’s smile held a depth of caring War hadn’t seen before. “I have to confess

something. I know we’ve spent very little time together when I wasn’t in the hospital, but I

think I more than like you. I think I love you.”

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War swallowed and nodded. “I’ll confess to that. I love you as well. I had a revelation

whilst I stood in the sand. It’s been a long time since I really loved anyone. Too hard to watch

someone you love grow old and die while you don’t age.”

“I can see where that would be difficult. Thank you for taking a chance on me.” Russell

kissed him.

War kissed him back before chuckling and easing away. “I didn’t seem to have a choice.

Death saw to it.”

“For all that he’s a cold-hearted bastard, he seems to have your interests in mind. Why

didn’t he stop you from spending time with me? I’m sure he could’ve thrown his weight

around and done something to make me forget all about you.”

“True.”

War rolled over on his back and let Russell settle between his legs. “I don’t want to talk

about Death any more. I want you to make love to me. I want to feel you deep inside me and

know I’m the only one you’ll be sleeping with for the rest of your life.”

“You’re the only man I’ve ever loved, and I don’t see that changing.”

They stopped talking and started stroking all the places they’d learnt made their desire

build. Soon they were naked, and focused on loving each other. War wrapped his lips

around Russell’s nipples while Russell fisted War’s cock. They wiggled and shifted, rubbing

against each other.

“Where’s the lube?” War asked.

Russell stuck his hand under one of the pillows and popped the top, squirting slick over

his fingers. War grabbed his knees and pulled them back, spreading wide to give Russell as

much room as he needed.

“Oh man,” War moaned as Russell sank his fingers into his ass.

He closed his eyes and undulated, fucking himself while absorbing the joy of Russell’s

love. Before too long, he was ready to have more than just fingers inside him. He reached

down and grabbed Russell’s wrist.

“I want you in me,” he said when Russell met his gaze.

“All right.”

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War groaned as Russell moved away and he heard the pop of the lube bottle again. He

opened his eyes to watch Russell coat his dick before settling back between his legs. War kept

his eyes glued to Russell’s as his lover sank into him, filling him the way he wanted.

When Russell’s pubic hair scraped War’s ass, they both froze for a moment, soaking in

the feeling of being one body and soul. The tableau broke when War arched his back and

tightened his muscles, massaging Russell’s shaft.

“Fuck,” Russell swore and began to thrust into War hard and fast.

War braced one hand against the wall above his head and fisted his own cock, pumping

in time to Russell’s strokes. They moved in perfect harmony, driving each other closer to

exploding with each long steady push in. Soon War balanced on the razor-shape edge and he

needed something to send him over.

“God, I love you,” Russell murmured as he slammed in.

His words were what War had been waiting for. His climax shot through him, firing

every nerve ending and flooding his body with pleasure. Russell threw his head back and

shouted as his cum spilled into War, claiming him from the inside out. As Russell’s climax

eased, he collapsed to the side of War and they drifted off to sleep.

“Holy shit!”

War jerked awake at Russell’s exclamation. He glanced around, trying to find whatever

had caused his lover to make a noise like that. He stopped when he noticed Russell staring at

him.

“What’s wrong?”

“Your hair.” Russell gestured towards War’s head.

“What about it? You’ve seen it before. Nothing’s changed.” He hesitated. “Has it?”

Russell nodded, but couldn’t seem to get the words out. War climbed out of bed and

went to the mirror hanging on the far wall. His mouth dropped open at the image reflected

there. He lifted his hand to his hair. It was no longer blood red, but black like it had been

before he died. War blinked as he realised his eyes were dark brown again.

“What happened?” He turned to look at Russell.

His lover shrugged. “I don’t know. I just woke up, looked over at you and you were

like this. I assume this is what you looked like before you became a Horseman.”

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“Yes.” He paused for a second. “Or at least this is what I saw when I looked in water. I

didn’t have mirrors or anything like that.”

Russell joined him at the mirror. They stood staring at War’s reflection.

“What do you think this means?”

“I have no idea.”

Death? War figured his fellow Horseman might have an idea.

Yes?

Do you know why my hair and eyes went back to their original colour?

Death sighed. You’re no longer a Horseman, Baqir. You’ve found love and someone who

accepts everything you did. More than that, you’ve forgiven yourself. Have a good life, my friend..

War staggered and Russell caught him. Death’s presence in his mind disappeared and

War realised he really would never see the Pale Rider again.

“Death said I’m no longer a Horseman. The moment I forgave myself for everything, I

became mortal again.”

Russell embraced him tightly. “That’s great news.”

“I think it might take some getting used to,” he confessed.

“I know, but at least you won’t have to leave to start wars somewhere in the world.”

War eased back a few inches. “You do realise a new War will appear. There always

have to be four Horsemen. Just because I’m mortal again doesn’t mean another man won’t

come to take my place. It doesn’t mean all fighting has stopped.”

“I know, but, since I love you, you’re the man I’m concerned with. I didn’t like it when

you were gone. In addition, knowing what you were doing and how much you hated doing

it made me unhappy.” Russell kissed him before stepping further away. “You have some

decisions to make.”

Yes, he did. The reason he’d lived in Mongolia was to stay as far away from human

contact as possible, and because it was a lot like his ancestral lands. Now it didn’t matter and

he could go live anywhere he wanted. Yet the thought of living in a town or any place except

the steppes caused his chest to constrict and his skin to crawl.

“What would you say if I told you I wanted to stay here?”

Russell thought for a few minutes, and War began to worry what Russell’s answer

would be. His lover grinned at him.

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“As long as we can go and visit my family at least once a year, I’ll be happy to live here

with you.”

“Really?”

Russell nodded and War swept him up in his arms, kissing him with all the emotions in

his heart. The way Russell embraced him convinced War the man meant what he said. Oh, he

knew it would take a while for Russell to completely accept the nomadic way of life, but, as

long as they continued loving each other, it wouldn’t matter where they were in the world.

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Epilogue

“War is gone?”

Death didn’t glance over at Famine as they stood at the top of Victoria Falls. He stared

down at the thundering water as it cascaded into the Zambezi River.

“Death, is it true?” Famine elbowed him in the side.

He grunted and shot the Black Horseman an annoyed look. “Yes, it’s true. The War you

know is gone. He’s become mortal again, like our old comrade Pestilence.”

“Huh.” Famine’s response was barely intelligible.

Rolling his eyes, Death looked up to study the sky. It didn’t matter what Famine

thought or said. It was only a matter of time. A clap of thunder and a man appeared on the

riverbank. The red stallion grazing a few feet away from Death lifted its head. It snorted and

Death nodded.

“I must go,” he said as he walked away.

“Who is that?” Famine used his chin to point at the stranger.

“It’s War.”

Famine didn’t say anything else as Death strolled off to greet the new Horseman. He

didn’t see the grin on Death’s face either. The time was coming when Famine would meet his

future and Death couldn’t wait for that moment.

Coming Soon from Total-E-Bound Publishing:

The Four Horsemen: Famine

T.A. Chase

Released 20

February 2012

Excerpt

Chapter One

His throat burning with thirst, Ekundayo stared up into the brilliant blue sky. He

should move out from under the burning sun, but he couldn’t work up the strength to climb

to his feet or anything like that. There was no water to be had in the rocky out cropping he’d

taken refuge on.

The mine guards called out to each other as they searched for Ekundayo. They were

actually moving farther away from where he hid. Not sure why, when the dogs should have

been able to find him without any trouble. Maybe they hadn’t got the dogs out since water

had been getting scarce for the past several days.

Why had he run away? What moment of madness had infected his brain, and

convinced him stealing from the mine was a good thing to do? Ekundayo stuck his hand in

his pocket and ran his fingers over the rough edges of the lump. Having worked at the mine

since he was ten, Ekundayo recognised the value of the diamond hidden underneath the dirt

and rock.

He should have turned it in with the rest of his ore, and taken the food he would have

been given. Not that there was much. While the world thought the mines were run according

to humane conditions, those who worked there could have told them differently. The miners

worked seven days, twenty-four hours a day, for little pay and little food. Most of them were

little more than slaves to the owners.

Ekundayo smiled, and his dried lips cracked, blood seeping through the wounds.

Madness indeed. Maybe he could go back to the mining offices, and plead for his life, saying

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the heat and the lack of food had driven him into momentary insanity. Yet it wouldn’t

matter. He would be executed as a thief if he returned there.

Should he try to get away? Run somewhere no one would know him, and try to sell the

uncut diamond? That probably wouldn’t work because the mine owners would alert officials

that one of their workers stole something from them. How did they know he took

something? It wasn’t like they had a tracking system or anything like that.

Probably one of the other workers saw him pick up the diamond and stick it in his

pocket. They were encouraged to tell on each other. All of the mines jealousy protected their

product, and didn’t share their wealth, not even with those who dug the diamonds up.

Ekundayo shook his head, closing his eyes as his vision blurred. Idiot. What had he been

thinking?

The sound of movement faded away, and Ekundayo rolled over onto his stomach,

peering through the boulders. No one was around. Maybe he could make it to the border

between Botswana and Zimbabwe. Slipping into the other country might be difficult, but he

could do it. Yet again he was crazy to think he could escape that way. The mines would talk

to the authorities and they would be on the lookout for him.

He didn’t know how much time had gone by since he came to lie in the circle of

boulders. At least two hours or so since the position of the sun moved in the sky. Sweat

trickled down his face, dripping into the thirsty dirt beneath him. He needed to go and find

some water, somewhere, because he was sweating it out more than he could replenish.

Dehydration was a very real possibility outside the city. Hell, it was a possibility even inside

the city limits.

Could the gods be mad at them? Had the miners and the men they work for offended

them to the point where they had turned their faces away from their followers? Ekundayo

knew he could be beaten for not believing in the Christian God, but all his life he had

followed his grandmother’s teachings, and she taught of the old gods.

Ekundayo sighed, and coughed as dust coated his throat. Choking, he buried his face in

his arm to muffle the noise. Whether the guards were still around or not, there could been

other people around. He didn’t want to take the risk of being found by them either. He didn’t

have enough strength left to fend them off if they chose to rob him.

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When his fit ended, Ekundayo pushed himself to his feet, and staggered down from the

rocks on to the trail. His feet dragged on the ground as he stumbled in the opposite direction

as the mine guards. He would try to make it to the border, and see how his situation looked

at that point.

At what point had he become a thief? He shook his head, hoping the spinning would

stop at some point as he walked. When had he given up his integrity and turned into the

very type of person he’d usually be disgusted by? His knees buckled and he fell, hitting the

hard-packed dirt with a crack. He barely managed to catch himself with his hands before

smacking his face on the ground.

He’d become one of those men because of the gnawing hunger in his belly, and the

burning thirst in his throat. He chose to take something that wasn’t his because of all the

things he would never be able to afford. Mostly he stole because of the empty hopeless eyes

of the children in his village whose stomachs were bloated without enough food to eat.

Foolish and ambitious were words his grandmother often used to describe Ekundayo.

He would own up to being foolish, but he never really considered himself ambitious. He

simply wanted something better than what he had, though he never thought he’d steal for

that.

Forcing himself back on his feet, Ekundayo shoved his hand in his pocket to reassure

himself the diamond was still there. It hadn’t fallen out when he went down. He glanced up

at the blazing sun, and licked his cracked lips. He really didn’t have a clear map in his head

of where he was going. He’d never been outside of his village for any reason.

Ekundayo didn’t know how long he’d been walking, but slowly the chill of night began

to cause him to shiver. The heat of the desert disappeared, and he shuddered, wrapping his

arms around his waist. He should go find shelter, yet if he did, he would sleep. He knew he

could do a lot of travelling during the night when it was cooler, and those searching for him

would be less likely to be out. Of course, more dangerous creatures hunted in the night.

Lions and hyenas stalked their prey during the night, and he had nothing to defend

himself with. Finding shelter until morning seemed like a wiser decision. Ekundayo

wandered off the trail and through the brush, searching for a place where he would be safe

for the night.

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After finding a tree with several large branches creating almost a platform high off the

ground, Ekundayo climbed up and curled up the best he could. His hands and feet were

scraped and raw by the time he settled in for the night. He wished he had some water or

food, yet knew there wouldn’t be any around for him.

In the morning, he would see if he could find something to drink. It had been almost a

full day since he’d had water, and he swore his skin was drying from the inside out. All his

muscles ached, and even his hair felt sore. He checked the diamond one more time, and

allowed his eyes to drift shut. Hopefully, tomorrow would be easier.

* * * *

The cries of the zebras woke Ekundayo up the next morning. He gathered his thoughts

around him before he stretched, remembering where he’d fallen asleep the night before. He

held onto the tree trunk and stood, staring around him to see if he could spot any water.

In the distance, early morning sunlight glinted off the clear glass-like surface of a

watering hole. Zebras, gazelles, and antelope gathered around it, and it was the herds’ calls

he heard. He placed the direction of the watering hole in his mind before carefully climbing

down from the tree.

As he made his way to his destination, he kept a sharp out for Cape buffalo, elephants,

and other creatures that called the savannahs their homes. On foot, he was vulnerable and

could just as easily be killed by one of them, as by the men hunting him. Nothing stalked

him, so he gained the oasis without incident.

Ekundayo hung back, waiting until the herds moved on. When there were no other

animals approaching the watering place, he slipped out from the bush, and knelt by the

bank. He scooped up the murky water and drank. He knew better than to drink too much.

He would only throw it back up.

As he bent down to take another drink, he felt the crawling sensation of being watched

skate across his back. He didn’t think there were any humans out there with him, so it could

only mean one thing. One of the continent’s big animals stared at him. Was it preparing to

attack or was it merely studying him to figure out what he was?

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Straightening without rushing, Ekundayo began to make his way around the pool to

where he saw the trail in the distance. He didn’t rush or run, knowing it would entice

whatever stalked him to attack. Once his feet hit the ruts where vehicles, wagons, and people

had wandered by, he breathed a soft sigh of relief. The feeling of being hunted disappeared,

and he trudged on.

As Ekundayo walked or actually shuffled like a mindless zombie in the direction of

freedom, he tried to figure out exactly what he was going to do with the diamond. Selling it

on the black market was the best idea, but he wasn’t sure how to go about it. With his luck,

the man he tried to sell it to would be working for the diamond companies, and Ekundayo

would find his ass being dragged back to the mine.

If he did sell it, how would he get the money back to the people in the village? It wasn’t

like he could return because he was a wanted man, and always would be. Shaking his head

almost caused him to fall over. Ekundayo stopped, and locked his knees to keep from tipping

over. God, the lack of food and water had made him crazy. He looked in the direction he was

headed before glancing back over his shoulder.

He pulled the diamond out of his pocket and held it in his hand, rolling it around

between his fingers. It wouldn’t be the biggest gem he’d ever found, but when cut and set, it

could bring him hundreds of dollars. The money could buy food, and bottled water for his

village. The knowledge rolled around his brain, and was the most important thing he

thought about every minute of his race to the border. Okay, so it was more of a plod toward

the border. He barely had the energy to breath, much less run.

Ekundayo sighed, and turned. He would go back and take his punishment. He didn’t

have the resources or partners to help him do what he wanted. Dirt puffed up around his feet

each step he took, and he was soon coated with a thin layer of dust. The itching drove him to

distraction, causing him not to pay attention to where he was going.

His left foot hit a rock, and he tumbled over it, arms flailing and trying to cry out. It

didn’t matter that there wasn’t anyone around to hear him. Maybe the noise would echo and

someone somewhere would come to investigate.

When he came to a stop, he lay on his right side, covered in cuts and bruises. He could

feel blood trickle from various wounds. He couldn’t move, his arm lodged in the crack

between two boulders.

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Ekundayo rested his head against one of the rocks, and closed his eyes. He’d rest, and

then try to find a way out of his predicament. As the sun beat down on him, Ekundayo

slipped into unconsciousness.

Pre-order your copy here:

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About the Author

There is beauty in every kind of love, so why not live a life without boundaries?
Experiencing everything the world offers fascinates TA and writing about the things
that make each of us unique is how she shares those insights. TA lives in the Midwest
with a wonderful partner of fourteen years. When not writing, she’s watching movies,
reading and living life to the fullest.

Email:

chase.ta@gmail.com

T.A. Chase loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website
and author biography at

http://www.total-e-bound.com

Also by T.A. Chase

Out of Light, Into Darkness

The Four Horsemen: Pestilence

(with Carol Lynne)

Dracul’s Revenge: Dracul’s Blood

Dracul’s Revenge: Anarchy in Blood

The Haunting of St. Xavier

Total-E-Bound Publishing

www.total-e-bound.com

Take a look at our exciting range of literagasmic™

erotic romance titles and discover pure quality

at Total-E-Bound.

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