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I lunge for the side of the horse. The sudden, violent motion throws my body out of balance, and rather than vomiting, I slide off the horse.

“Sara!”

I hit the water with a smack, and the first thing I can think as I gasp in salt water is how blindingly cold the Pacific is. Cruelly cold. Water doesn’t have a right to be this cold. It makes the icy baths I’ve had to take since the world ended seem mild in comparison.

It’s only as I sink into the ocean’s dark depths, paralyzed by the chill that I realize Iamsinking, the water no longer obeying whatever supernatural force allowed the horseman to ride over it.

If anything, it feels like the sea is greedy to pull me under, like I’m the tithe it requires for the horseman to cross unscathed.

I kick madly for the surface, my stupid, gaudy clothes dragging me down.

In my panic, I barely notice the arm that winds around my waist, tugging me away from the darkness.

It’s not until I’m dragged back onto shore that I realize the horseman saved me. I don’t have much time to concentrate on that little detail before I turn on my side and start retching up the contents of my stomach along with all the saltwater I sucked in.

Bye pancakes.

I sick myself until there is nothing left in my system. Even then, my body only half believes it, my stomach still contracting.

“You donotget to kill yourself!” Pestilence all but roars, seawater dripping off his hair. He looks mad with anger, and his eyes are so vividly blue.

I rub my neck, my throat raw. “I wasn’t trying to,” I say hoarsely, sitting up.

“Lies!” he bellows. “I saw you throw yourself from the horse.”

“I needed to puke.” The words come out scratchy. “That’s all.” I clear my throat, focusing on him. “Why are you so concerned anyway?” I ask, rising to stand on shaky legs. I squint at him. “You’ve made it plenty clear today you don’t care much about me.”

Those last two lines were supposed to stay firmly inside my mouth.

The horseman glares at me, his brows furrowed. “Suffering is—”

My shoulders slump. “For the living. Yeah, yeah, I know.”

He grabs my chin, forcing me to look at him. His eyes search mine, and they’re raging with anger.

All at once, he jerks my face forward and kisses me.

Chapter 24

It’s harsh.Angry. Almost violent. I suppose this is the only kind of kiss that’s fitting for us.

And then it hits me that Pestilenceiskissing me, his lips are crashing against mine, his touch feverish as he crushes me to him.

Unwittingly, I grab the horseman’s forearms with my icy hands, using him to stabilize me.

He’s kissing me.

I don’t have the breath or the will left in me to tell himpleaseagain, to force his hand and stop this from happening.

Don’t want it to stop.

After the first few seconds pass, it’s clear Pestilence doesn’t know what lips are supposed to do in a kiss. All his (hateful) enthusiasm is there, but it’s being held up by the rigid set of his mouth.

It’s me who ends up leading the way, my lips gliding over his. He follows my movements, all of his anger making his mouth almost bruising in its ferocity.

It feels like I’m drowning all over again, the taste and touch of him sucking me under. Everything is harsh—the chill of my skin, the achy burn of my throat, the savage brush of his lips against mine. Saltwater drips down our faces, mingling with our kiss.

I don’t know how long the two of us are locked together like that before I realize that I’m wet and freezing and I just retched (to be fair, he doesn’t seem to mind). And oh yeah, I’m kissingPestilence.