Page 196 of Famine

He stares down at me.

“Marry me,” he whispers.

I freeze, taking in his features. His eyes are bright and he looks eager and hopeful, his normal arrogance wiped clean from his expression.

“Please,” he adds.

My heart lurches.

I think this is him groveling.

My throat constricts, and my pulse is speeding up. “Why do you want to marry me?” I ask. I find that I’m actually afraid of his answer.

The Reaper’s lips quirk. “Little flower, don’t you know? I happen to enjoy it when you pee on my boots, and you sing songs off-key, and when I wake up to your atrocious morning breath—you know, you also fart in your sleep.”

Jesus.

“This is the worst proposal I have literally ever heard,” I say.

“I like it when you heckle me for saving small creatures, and I want to keep growing plants inside this house just so that you’ll give me shit for it. I happen to love you—allof you—and I always will. And I want you to always love me too.”

“You know I do,” I say quietly.

“Marry me,” he says again.

My heart is pounding way too loudly. “Marriage is for humans,” I say.

“I don’t give a damn. I want you to be mine under the eyes of all of these deceitful little assholes we live alongside.

“Please,” he repeats.

Still I hesitate.

“I’m afraid,” I admit. Afraid of loving something this much, of having it this good. I’m afraid of actually getting everything I’ve ever dreamed of because I’ve never gotten anything of substance before in my life.

“No one will ever hurt you again,” Famine vows, misinterpreting my words. “It’s us against the world, Ana. Marry me.”

A moment later he reaches under the mattress and pulls out a ring. Sitting right in the middle of it is a fat-ass diamond. The thing isn’t some modest stone, this thing is a goddamnboulder.

My gaze moves to his. “Who did you kill to get that thing?”

“Ana,” he says, his voice beseeching me to take this seriously.

Thisistoo good to be true, but for once, I don’t let that stop me.

I smile up at Famine, my grin so wide it hurts my cheeks. I tuck a lock of his toffee-colored hair behind his ear, and then I lean up and kiss him.

“Yes,” I say against his lips. “Yes.”

Chapter 50

Famine

The days become weeks, the weeks become months. My scythe doesn’t rust and my muscles don’t grow soft, but I have gone to seed, my purpose set aside.

Just for a moment, I told myself when we settled in.Then I will get back to my task.

I knew I was telling myself a lie, but it was alright at the time. I wanted to give Ana a respite; she asks for so little.