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He looks … disappointed. I think.

I can’t exactly say what it isIam feeling, or why. It’s some sick combo between want and wistfulness and the deep certainty that this iswrong. Very, very wong.

“Then what is it?”

“Lust,” I say simply.

I can’t sleep. Not in these woods as the icy sleet pummels our tent. The chill has claws, and I can feel them digging into my skin through my blanket and all my layers of clothing.

I lay in my makeshift bed, shivering and feeling utterly miserable.

I mean for you to suffer.I can hear Pestilence’s words clear as day. Pestilence, who wandered off hours ago and who still hasn’t returned. Pestilence, who didn’t like what I had to say earlier, either because lust is not nearly so lofty an emotion as love, or because feeling anything at all is simply problematic for him.

He’s been gone for hours, and in all likelihood he’s probably waiting just out of sight for me to bolt so that he can punish me in some cruel and unusual way and force things back to how they once were.

I think it would do us both good, to have things go back to the way they were. But there’s no way that’s going to happen. You can’t unmake a kiss, or unsee a look. We’re both so screwed.

It’s late by the time Pestilence returns, and the rain has all but stopped. I can hear his boots as he crosses over pine needles. He doesn’t try to mask his approach.

A moment later the tent flaps are thrown open, and the space is filled with his unearthly presence. For several long seconds he doesn’t move.

Eventually, the horseman kneels next to me. He painstakingly takes off his armor and his crown for the second time that evening. And then he slides into the space beside me.

“I assumed you didn’t sleep,” I say. My voice seems to echo in the silence.

There’s a pause. After a moment, he says, “I do not need it, but I can.”

He moves closer to me, and after a hesitant second, the horseman drapes an arm over my body and pulls me in close.

I close my eyes at the sensation, torn between enjoying his touch and knowing that I shouldn’t. My body shakes against his, shivering at the temperature.

“You’re cold,” he says, surprise coloring his voice.

I’m more than just cold; I’m pretty much a human Popsicle at this point.

“I’m fine.”

He tucks me even closer into him, throwing one of his legs over mine, pinning me against his body.Motherfucking snuggling. I don’t even have the dignity to be upset by this because I’m so bloody grateful for Pestilence’s heat.

You also like the way he fits against you …

“Try to sleep,” he says, his voice deep. “Tomorrow we leave at first light.”

Awesome.

Freaking hate waking up early—along with the cold.

Once this is all over, I’m moving to Mexico and sleeping in as long as I want.

Pressed against the human furnace that is otherwise known as Pestilence, my frigid body soon warms. Not long after, my eyes begin to droop.

Just as I’m on the very edge of sleep I think I hear Pestilence murmur against my hair, “This is not lust I feel, dear Sara. And I hope you are half as frightened of it as I am.”

But I was probably just dreaming.

Chapter 26

I wake slowly, languidly, a delicious heat enveloping me. I stretch, my spine cracking as I arch my back. The arm around my waist tightens, the hand stroking up and down my back.