Famine by Laura Thalassa

Chapter 49

It doesn’t take long for the house to be brought back from the dead. Eventually all of the home’s old furniture is either cleaned and used, or discarded. All the leaves and nests, trash and animal remains that once lay scattered on the floors are neatly removed.

For perhaps the first time, I see a truly gentle side of Famine emerging. He’s the one responsible for coaxing out the last of the living animals who’ve taken up residence in our dilapidated house. At the moment, he’s found a colony of mice in the walls.

He leans into an exposed wall, reaching for the small animals. Famine’s armor is gone, and his scythe and scales are laying haphazardly in our bedroom. This is about as normal as the horseman ever looks, and I have to say, he still doesn’t look that normal.

He’s too sexy—much, much too sexy—to ever just blend in. Not to mention that his sleeves are rolled up, showcasing the glowing green tattoos on his lower forearms.

I watch him as he retrieves one of the squeaking animals, cupping it in his hand.

“You’re just going to draw them back in with those fruit trees of yours,” I say as he pets the thing’s forehead with his thumb.

Because of course the trees Famine grew on our first night produce fruit. Fruit that will drop and rot on the ground and draw in rodents and all other sorts of wild critters.

Rather than removing the highly problematic trees, the horseman hired people from the town to open up our roof so that they could better grow. Apparently the horseman isn’t worried about the fact that it rains often here. His response had been, I like you wet.

Now he says, “Don’t act like you disapprove. I know you have a soft spot for displaced creatures.”

Creatures like the horseman himself.

I continue to watch his rescue mission. “If I wake up to bird poop on me, you and I are going to have a problem.” Or a scorpion in my bed. I will shit bricks if I wake up to a scorpion in my bed.

“Come now, flower,” he says over his shoulder as he takes the rodent outside, “you’ve peed on my boots. What’s a little bird poop? Besides, it will keep you humble.”

Humble?

I like my overinflated ego just fine, thank you.

Famine heads towards the tree line of our new property, and the trees are another thing: with every passing day, the thick forest growing kilometers away seems to be creeping closer to our house. I know that one day soon, the foliage is going to be right at our doorstep.

As I stare off at the horseman, I feel that familiar lightness in my belly all over again.

I can’t believe I’m doing this—that we’re doing this. A retired prostitute and her apocalyptic boyfriend.

Life is strange.

I head back inside, and it’s as I’m passing by the living room I notice a new vine snaking up the back wall. I have to take a second look at it, just to make sure it’s not a snake, but nope, it’s another plant growing in yet another room of this house.

I hear the front door open and close behind me.

“Is this going to become a thing?” I ask, gesturing to the vine. Surrounding it are the other plants that sprung up when we first christened the place.

“Undoubtedly,” the horseman says smoothly.

I guess this is what happens when Famine is happy. Rather than killing things, he makes them grow. I mean, technically he did grow plants even when he was determined to kill all us humans, but that was different; those plants were his weapons, these ones are his houseguests.

The horseman comes over to me. He should be covered in sweat, but when his arms wrap around me, his skin is only slightly sticky, and even then, I’m pretty sure that’s a result of the humidity, not him.

“Does that bother you?” he asks, his voice bored. I’m not sure what to make of that tone. Sometimes his calmness is a trap set to spring, and other times it just is what it is.

“Probably no more than my ways bother you,” I reply.

I practically feel Famine’s pleasure at my response.

I begin to smile, but then a thought slips into my head that drains away my good mood.

There’s a question I’ve wanted to know the answer to ever since we moved into this house. Up until now I’d avoided asking it because a part of me is terrified of Famine’s response. But it’s time I finally asked.

I exhale. “Are you still going to keep killing off people and their crops?”

Famine moves around to face me, his gaze intense.

“Your fellow humans get a single lifetime to prove to me that their miserable lives are worth saving,” he eventually says.

“A single lifetime?” I repeat, confused by his wording.

It hits me a moment later: Famine is speaking of my lifetime—that’s the lifespan he’s referring to.

He takes in my expression, the corner of his mouth curving up. The Reaper crowds me, his lips coming to my ear. “I want to see this pretty skin get old.”

“You really want to be with me for my entire life?” The thought nearly steals my breath away. “What if you change your mind?”

“About you?” he asks, and now he looks amused. “You silly little flower—don’t you realize I’ve spent all this time trying to do just that? I have had eons of disdain for humans and years of torture to cultivate my hate. Yet here I am, by your side, and God Himself couldn’t rip me from you.

“I am not human, Ana. Old age and wilted beauty do not repulse me. They are part of the life cycle—they are a part of what makes me, me.”

I actually hadn’t even thought that far ahead, but the brutal honesty in his words eases my fear.

I take in those eerie green eyes. “And what if I change my mind?”

Famine rears back a little. “About me?” He raises his eyebrows, as though the thought is preposterous. “Then I suppose I’ll just have to threaten to kill off more towns. I imagine that will get you to stay.”

“Oh my God,” I say, “living with you is an awful idea.”

“Truly, it is,” he agrees.

He reels me in close and kisses the tip of my nose. “I suppose I could give you no reason to leave. That’s the less fun option, but I’m quite charming when I want to be.”

“I think you’re confusing my wonderful personality with your own,” I reply.

The horseman laughs at that. “Hmmm, maybe.”

Then he leans in and kisses me. It’s short and sweet and all too brief.

The horseman pulls away just enough to lean his head against mine.

“I’ve never felt so alive before, Ana,” he admits. “It’s wonderfully messy. I think I might like being human after all.”

Two nights later, I find myself on my back, Famine’s head between my thighs, my fingers wrapped up in his hair.

Since the two of us started living together, I’ve discovered something about Famine: he loves going down on me. Loves, loves, loves it. Which, I’ll be honest, I have mixed feelings about.

Obviously it feels good, but I’m also so self-conscious. It’s more than just feeling like my vagina has seen some shit, and I don’t want his mouth down there. It’s also that I am unused to selfishly receiving pleasure.

I think that might be part of the reason the Reaper likes this so much. I’m pretty sure he’s determined to replace my old conditioning with something new.

He pauses now, his face moving away from my core.

I’m panting, still staring up at the tree branches above our bed, when he shifts himself, draping his naked body over mine, his erection pressing against my thigh.

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—all of 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 goddamn boulder.

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

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

This is too 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.”