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He kisses my breasts, taking first one peak, then the other, into his mouth. I writhe against him as his ministrations light me on fire.

All the while, Pestilence’s cock burns against my thigh. How he has patience for foreplay right now is beyond me. Then again, I was always the kid who peeked at my Christmas presents before they were wrapped, so … maybe when it comes to fun shit, I’m just overzealous.

Pestilence draws away long enough to line us up. For one instant he looks backlit, his golden hair luminous, his body glimmering in the darkness. And in that instant, he’s a heavenly thing. Then the moment passes, and he’s a man once more.

He pushes into me, his cock thick, the pressure of it exquisite. I can feel himeverywhere.

My horseman let’s out a breath, staring down at me with beautiful, terrible eyes. “God Almighty,” he whispers.

If I weren’t feeling so damn emotional right now, I might’ve made some quip about not taking the Lord’s name in vain (he learned that bad habit from me). I might’ve even laughed as I reveled in the intense connection being the two of us.

Instead, I take his face, his glorious face, in my hands.

“I love you,” I whisper. He needs to hear it. I need to say it. Those words have been trapped beneath my sternum for so long.

He moves in me, his eyes riveted to mine. “I love you too, Sara Burns.”

And then he shows me just how much he means it.

Afterwards,the twoof us lay in a tangle of sheets, and I could stay right here forever, my ear pressed against his chest, his heart pounding beneath me.

He strokes my naked back. “There is one thing I kept,” he says. “One thing my crown and armor were still good for. Would you like to see it?”

I nod against him, though I don’t really have any idea what he’s talking about. I’m just too unbearably happy to think about anything else except for the fact that Pestilence is here in my arms.

Gently, Pestilence moves me aside so he can slip off the bed and pad into the living room. I can’t imagine what’s coming.

I gather up the sheets to my body and sit up as Pestilence comes back into the room. He kneels next to the bed and lifts his hand, his fist tightly closed. One by one his fingers uncurl, and in his palm rests a small gold band.

His eye glint. “Marry me, Sara.Please.”

My breath hitches as I stare at the ring, which looks impossibly perfect.

Made from the last of his golden trappings.

That’swhat he meant when he said he’d kept one thing from his crown and armor.

My gaze rises to him. And then I smile. “Yes.”

I’m going to marry a horseman of the apocalypse.

I extend my hand and let him slide the band onto my trembling finger.

I’m going to marryPestilence.

“Wait,” I say sharply.

My horseman raises his eyebrows. “Wait?” he repeats, looking incredulous. “Are you having … doubts?”

I can tell he has a hard time getting the last part of that sentence out.

“No, but … I want to call you something other thanPestilence. Not just an endearment but an actual name.”

For better or for worse, he’s a man. He needs a proper name.

“You mean, like Tricksy?” he asks, completely serious.

God no. Not like that.