Page 195 of Famine

“Probably no more than my ways bother you,” I reply.

I practically feel Famine’s pleasure at my response.

I begin to smile, but then a thought slips into my head that drains away my good mood.

There’s a question I’ve wanted to know the answer to ever since we moved into this house. Up until now I’d avoided asking it because a part of me is terrified of Famine’s response. But it’s time I finally asked.

I exhale. “Are you still going to keep killing off people and their crops?”

Famine moves around to face me, his gaze intense.

“Your fellow humans get a single lifetime to prove to me that their miserable lives are worth saving,” he eventually says.

“A single lifetime?” I repeat, confused by his wording.

It hits me a moment later: Famine is speaking ofmylifetime—that’s the lifespan he’s referring to.

He takes in my expression, the corner of his mouth curving up. The Reaper crowds me, his lips coming to my ear. “I want to see this pretty skin get old.”

“You really want to be with me for my entire life?” The thought nearly steals my breath away. “What if you change your mind?”

“About you?” he asks, and now he looks amused. “You silly little flower—don’t you realize I’ve spent all this time trying to do just that? I have had eons of disdain for humans and years of torture to cultivate my hate. Yet here I am, by your side, and God Himself couldn’t rip me from you.

“I am not human, Ana. Old age and wilted beauty do not repulse me. They are part of the life cycle—they are a part of what makes me,me.”

I actually hadn’t even thought that far ahead, but the brutal honesty in his words eases my fear.

I take in those eerie green eyes. “And what ifIchange my mind?”

Famine rears back a little. “About me?” He raises his eyebrows, as though the thought is preposterous. “Then I suppose I’ll just have to threaten to kill off more towns. I imagine that will get you to stay.”

“Oh my God,” I say, “living with you is an awful idea.”

“Truly, it is,” he agrees.

He reels me in close and kisses the tip of my nose. “I suppose I could give you no reason to leave. That’s the less fun option, but I’m quite charming when I want to be.”

“I think you’re confusing my wonderful personality with your own,” I reply.

The horseman laughs at that. “Hmmm, maybe.”

Then he leans in and kisses me. It’s short and sweet and all too brief.

The horseman pulls away just enough to lean his head against mine.

“I’ve never felt so alive before, Ana,” he admits. “It’s wonderfully messy. I think I might like being human after all.”

Two nights later, I find myself on my back, Famine’s head between my thighs, my fingers wrapped up in his hair.

Since the two of us started living together, I’ve discovered something about Famine: he loves going down on me. Loves, loves, loves it. Which, I’ll be honest, I have mixed feelings about.

Obviously it feels good, but I’m also so self-conscious. It’s more than just feeling like my vagina has seen some shit, and I don’t want his mouth down there. It’s also that I am unused to selfishly receiving pleasure.

I think that might be part of the reason the Reaper likes this so much. I’m pretty sure he’s determined to replace my old conditioning with something new.

He pauses now, his face moving away from my core.

I’m panting, still staring up at the tree branches above our bed, when he shifts himself, draping his naked body over mine, his erection pressing against my thigh.