Page 141 of Famine

“They broke my spirit too,” he admits quietly, staring at the wine in his glass. As though the reminder is too painful to bear sober, he brings the drink to his lips and swallows it all down in three long gulps.

I reach over and squeeze the horseman’s leg. “I’m so sorry. Truly.” I’m not a violent person, but hearing his words and seeing his expression is drawing out all my protective instincts.

He was sent here to kill humans off—presumably because we were a little too wicked for God’s liking—and we somehow managed to prove to Famine that we were evenworsethan the reputation that preceded us.

The horseman covers my hand with his and gives it a squeeze. At the touch, my heart begins to race in a way that hasnothingto do with fear or anxiety.

“How did you escape them?” I ask.

I never heard this part of the story.

“One of the men let down his guard and fell asleep as I was healing. I was able to gather just enough strength to dispatch him and the others keeping guard. Then I freed myself and … you know the rest.”

He reaches out and picks up a bottle of cachaça. Uncapping it, he takes a swig of the pale liquor.

I stare at him, taking in all of his anger and all of his pain. That’s mostly what he’s made from. But amongst it all, I’ve seen glimpses of something softer, kinder, something that grew in spite of the cruelties he endured and his own innate drive to kill us off.

Leaning forward, I grasp Famine’s scythe with both hands, lifting it off of his lap.

The horseman watches me intently, but he doesn’t bother stopping me. I set it aside and then I reach for the bottle of cachaça in his hand.

“Taking all my things, are we?” he asks, though he lets me remove the liquor from his grasp.

I bring the bottle to my lips and take a long drink of it. This is, perhaps, more liquor than I’ve ever drank in one night.

I lower the bottle, glancing down at it. “Did you mean what you said about alcohol?” I ask, remembering what he told me all that time ago.

“What did I say?”

My eyes flick to his. “That a little alcohol washes away the memory of all sorts of sins?”

Famine cracks a smile, though there’s no humor in it. “Would I drink this deeply if I felt otherwise?”

I try not to examine that too much. That maybe Famine really does have moments of regret and self-hatred, same as me.

Very deliberately, I set the cachaça down on the table, and I lean in close to Famine, my knees brushing against his inner thighs. The alcohol is making me brave.

“Then maybe it will wash away the memory ofthissin.”

With that, I kiss him.

Chapter 35

His lips are soft like satin. I don’t remember that from the last time I kissed him.

And like the last time I kissed him, Famine doesn’t immediately react. I think he must be shocked. The only reason the kiss continues at all is because I’ve nearly drunk my weight in booze, and my self-confidence is at an all-time high.

But then the Reaper’s lips do begin to move, and suddenly he’s returning the kiss with a passion that I’m struggling to match. He reaches out, catching me by the waist. With a deft yank he pulls me onto his lap.

I rearrange myself so that I end up straddling him. The horseman holds me tight against his body, his hands moving to my hips. All the while his lips devour mine.

I’m shocked to feel that beneath me, he’s hard. I’d seen his heated looks and I’d read the interest in his body language, but this is actual proof that Famine feels desire—and for me of all people.

My hands slide to his cheeks, cradling his face. It’s frightening how in this moment I can just sideline every evil deed he’s done. All because at the very root of him, there’s something that calls to me. Maybe it’s that kernel of kindness I’ve glimpsed. Maybe it’s his awfulness or his vulnerability. Maybe it’s nothing at all, and I’ve simply deluded myself that we’re alike.

Famine’s palms skim up my sides, his fingers pressing into the flesh of my back. All while his mouth works mine. He parts my lips, and I have a moment of surprise that he actually knows how to kiss—and how to kisswell.

How many womenhasthe horseman been with?