Page 33 of Famine

Then again, maybe he’s simply drawing this out.

Famine jerks me into an empty room. Tossing me inside, he kicks the door shut behind us.

I hit the ground hard, my teeth clicking together. The Reaper stalks after me.

I scramble backwards, but there’s nowhere to go. I’m trapped in this room with an unearthly monster.

For a split second, the two of us stare at each other—hunter and hunted.

He’s going to kill me.I can see in his eyes just how much he hates us, how much he enjoys snuffing us out one by one. He’s still holding the scythe, along with the rope he grabbed.

Famine kneels down at my side, that painfully beautiful face of his illuminated by nearby oil lamps. As he does so, blood drips from his chest, where I so recently stabbed him. My gaze moves to his neck, which is also smeared in blood. Despite his earlier words, Ididmanage to hurt him.

The horseman grabs one of my wrists, and maybe it’s his touch or the look in his eyes, but the hairs along my arm stand on end.

“Let me go.” I jerk my arm against him, but his grip doesn’t loosen.

He grabs my other wrist, pressing my two arms together before he begins winding the rope around my wrists.

“What are you doing?” I struggle against him. Once again, it’s absolutely useless. He seems to have unnatural strength.

“I’m subduing you,” he says. “I thought that was obvious.”

Famine finishes winding the rope around my wrists, his expression placid. He leans back on his haunches and appraises me. “Will you try to kill me again?”

I pause in my struggle.

That’swhat this is about? He doesn’t want me to get violent with him again?

I wait too long to answer.

A corner of his mouth curves up. “As I thought,” he says, taking my silence as ayes.

In all fairness, if given the chance, I willdefinitelytry to incapacitate him again.

The horseman spends the next moment taking me in.

“For a man who’s scared of pussies,” I say, “you’re spending an awfully long time looking at me.”

He doesn’t rise to the bait.

“Tell me,” the Reaper says, leaning back on his haunches, “if you were in my shoes—if a girl who once saved you then tried to kill you were suddenly your prisoner—what would you do?”

This is the part where I die. Painfully. Ididin fact squander my second chance at life.

I glare up at the horseman, defeated. “I can’t say,” I respond bitterly. “I’m not a monster.”

Those unnerving eyes continue to assess me.

“I have never made an exception for a human before,” he admits, “and I’m loathe to make one now.”

I can hear thebutcoming.

“But I’m afraid there has only ever been a single instance where a human saved my life. It, unfortunately, has made an impression on me.” He leans in close. “That should worry a feeble little flower like you.”

Don’t worry, buddy, itdoes.

He gets up, his green eyes still on me. “We’ll talk again in the morning.” Famine heads out of the room, but pauses when he gets to the doorway. “Oh, and if you try leaving this place, I’ll make sure you regret it.”