For a long moment, Famine is stiff against my lips. Then, almost like he can’t help it, I feel his mouth move against mine.

Sweet Mother of God, the horseman knows how to kiss—and he’s responding to mine!

A bolt of lightning arcs down from the heavens. With a loud crack it hits a tree, fire and wood exploding on impact.

A surprised cry rips from my throat, and I rear back.

A split-second later, Famine stumbles away from me.

“What the fuck, Ana?” he says, his fingers going to his mouth.

Around us, hail begins to pelt down, the clusters growing larger by the second.

Cursing under his breath, the Reaper closes the distance between us once more, shielding my body with his own.

My eyes eventually move up to him. “You really can control the weather,” I say. I can’t keep the wonder from my voice.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Famine says, glancing at me. After a moment, his eyebrows rise. “Is that why you kissed me? To test a damn theory of yours?” Even as he asks, his gaze strays back to my lips.

I can practically feel the heat of his anger. I think the only thing that might piss the horseman off more than getting kissed right now is getting kissed for the wrong reasons.

The corner of my mouth lifts. I definitely shouldn’t enjoy toying with him—people tend to die when this happens—but I can’t help it; he’s fun to tease. He takes it so poorly.

My eyes drop to his lips. “That … and I was curious.”

I’m still curious. He felt like sin against my lips. And damn me, but now all I want is to do it again—if only to see another tree blow up.

Famine stalks back to his horse.

“What?” I call after him. “Did I say something wrong? Don’t be mad—you’re much less pretty when you’re mad.”

In response, he growls.

I grin. So much fun to tease.

The rest of the ride is full of silence—heavy, tense silence. Behind me, Famine broods away.

Even though the worst of the storm is behind us—both literally and figuratively—rain still pelts down on us. There’s no escaping it, but it’s not altogether unpleasant. It cools my skin against the stifling heat of the day.

We continue down the road, following one of Brazil’s old highways. By the looks of it, the thing has been patched over and over again since its creation. Here the farms have thinned out, replaced by rolling fields and thick, verdant forests.

Every so often we pass by a trading post or an inn, but that’s it. We don’t pass by any travelers today, and for that, I’m immensely relieved. Famine’s men must’ve done an adequate job warning people about Famine’s arrival.

My own mood is light and airy until I read a sign on the road.

“We’re going to São Paulo?” I say.

“If you’re referring to the city ahead of us, then yes, we are.”

São Paulo is one of those big places in my world. It’s one of those cities you want to be a part of because things happened there. I always imagined that its citizens were more cultured, more sophisticated, more well-traveled—just more.

And now the Reaper is going to destroy it all.

As we enter the city, I can’t help but suck in a breath. The place is enormous, and it just seems to go on and on and on. There are blocks upon blocks of skyscrapers as far as the eye can see.

However, despite its sprawl, there’s a desolation to São Paulo, and slowly, I understand why. So much of what I see is rubble. There are blocks and blocks of collapsed buildings; some areas are so utterly destroyed that the debris has effectively blockaded the streets. More than once, Famine has had to turn back and find an alternate route when the original one was obstructed. It seems as though São Paulo abandoned this section of the city.

Out of nowhere, Famine says, “You’re not to kiss me again.”

“What?” I say, blinking away my thoughts.

“Agree to it.”

“Agree to what?” I’m so lost.

A moment later my mind catches up to what he said.

“Oh, kissing you?” I state. “Naw, I’m not going to agree to that.” I say it mostly to ruffle his feathers, but also because—curiosity.

“Ana.” He says my name like a warning.

Just to be an asshole, I grab his hand and, threading my fingers in between his, I lift his arm to my mouth. Softly, I press a kiss to the back of his hand, then another against the side of his wrist, then—

“Damnit, Ana, stop.”

He pulls his arm away, and I have to press my lips together to stop from laughing at the fact that scary, horrible Famine is physically holding his arm away from me to stop me from kissing it again.

“God, calm down, Famine,” I say. “I’m just teasing you.”

“It’s not funny.”

“Well of course it’s not funny to you,” I say. “The joke’s at your expense.”

The longer we move through São Paulo, the more uneasy I get. I haven’t seen anyone on the streets.

All the stories I heard about this place made it seem lively. Could they have been wrong?

As I look up at one of the windows, I see a figure peering out. When the woman notices me, she darts away from the window. Inside another building I see a curtain rustle.

Trepidation drips down my spine.

Perhaps, there are people here, after all.

“Famine, do you think this is going to be one of those cities where people try to kill you?”

His fingers drum against my thigh. “It’s likely.”

Well, fuck. That doesn’t sound fun.

Famine’s men clearly warned the people of São Paulo of our upcoming arrival. But now I wonder what exactly these people were told about the horseman.

By the looks of it, nothing good.

Unfortunately for Famine (and me), this city might actually have enough people to fight back.

I don’t know how long we ride through that metropolis, the only sound the steady hoof beats of Famine’s horse, when the rider appears. His horse moves slow, making his appearance somewhat chilling, like the calm before the storm.

He wears a large cowboy hat, and it’s only once he’s close that he calls out, “Hey friend, I’m here to take you to the estate where you’ll be staying.”

I glance up at Famine, but the horseman wears a stoic expression.

Eventually, he nods to the man, and the rider turns around, heading out ahead of us.

“Is that one of your men?” I ask.

“Maybe … maybe not,” Famine says. “You all look so alike.”

“Well, that’s super reassuring.” I take a steadying breath. “So, is this a trap?”

“There’s only one way to find out.”

By walking straight into it, he means.

“That is not the correct way to deal with these situations,” I say. Has Famine learned nothing from his time in captivity?

“It’ll be alright, little flower.”

I exhale. I guess it will have to be, because for better or worse, I’m along for the ride.

Following the rider ahead of us, we enter a section of the city that doesn’t look so desolate. In fact, it seems as though the people here have taken pains to revitalize this section of São Paulo. You can see it in the fresh paint and the manicured gardens we pass. There are pristine parks and tiled fountains with bubbling water.