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My father stopped listening at that point. That was one of the only times I’d ever seen him openly cry.

He already believes I’m dead, I remember thinking.

And now, to the best of his understanding, I am.

Absently, I touch my cheek, feeling moisture there.

“What a surprise. I half thought you’d try to escape again.”

Instinctively, my shoulders hike up at Pestilence’s voice.

I clear my throat, then swipe quickly at my eyes.

He doesn’t get the pleasure of seeing me upset.

“I get that you don’t think highly of people,” I say, swiveling to him, “but that’s just—Jesus!”

Standing on the other side of the room, his hair still dripping from the shower, is a very naked Pestilence.

Chapter 12

“Oh my God,” I shield my eyes, “put some clothes on! No one wants to see that!”

He frowns. “Your human sense of propriety is absolutely ridiculous.”

For all this dude’s knowledge, there are very obvious holes in his education—like, for instance, what makes humans as uncomfortable as fuck.

“It doesn’t change the fact that seeing you butt-ass naked is not on my shortlist of things to do during the apocalypse.”

Not that it’s a bad body or anything. I mean, if circumstances were different …

“Why you tell me these things when I want you to suffer is such a quandary,” he says.

“Can you just put some pants on?”

Really that’s all I ask.

He comes up to me, every inch—and I meanev-er-ryinch—on display. I take in those glowing amber tattoos that are so foreign and beautiful. My eyes move to his massive shoulders and his tapering torso; my gaze dips lower, to his abs, then to …

Maybe it’s just sitting next to the fire, but suddenly, the urge to fan myself is overwhelming.

“Please,” I plead.

“When I begged you for mercy, did you grant it?”

This issoridiculous.

“No, but—”

“No,” Pestilence agrees. “And for this reason, I too shall overlook your pleas.”

He’s not getting the fact that being shot in the face and staring at an impressive example of the male form are twoentirelydifferent tiers of suffering. No, scratch that, they’re not even tiers. They’re like homophones; they sound the same but the words mean two totally different things.

“You’re really all for this eye-for-eye justice,” I mutter.

An Old-Testament God is definitely running the show here.

“You’re seriously going to make me look at you naked?” I ask