Famine (The Four Horsemen #3) - Laura Thalassa Page 0,123

desperate.

He focuses on my injury, keeping his shirt pressed against my throat. I turn towards him, and the black cloth bushes against my cheek and nose as I do so. Even after a day of traveling, the material smells fresh, clean. If Famine were fully human, the shirt would probably smell like sweat and sour pussy—figuratively speaking, of course; the only pussy Famine’s been near is my own, and I pride myself on—

“Ana.”

“What?” I say, pushing away the thought.

“How bad is it?”

“How bad is what?” My gaze lingers on his lips.

“Your wound,” he says slowly, looking at me like I grew two heads.

“Oh.” I move his shirt away a little so I can probe the edges of the cut. “I don’t know, but I don’t think it’s too bad.” When I see the look in the Reaper’s eyes, I add, “I’m not lying.”

The injury hurts, I can feel the throb of it pounding just beneath my jawline, but I’ve lived through worse—much worse.

I stare at Famine, whose face is lit by the soft glow of his markings. His jaw clenches again, like he might be angry, and right then it really, truly hits me—

“You’re worried about me,” I say.

What a crazy, wondrous thing.

“Of course I am,” he says, his voice so low that I almost miss the words.

I feel warmth spread throughout my body.

This, even more than his compliments, is my undoing.

I reach for him, moving with confidence. My arms wrap around his neck.

He looks at me, shocked. “What are you—?”

Before he can finish his sentence, my lips find his and I kiss him with the same fervency I did outside. For a second or two, he responds … and then his mind catches up to him.

Famine breaks away, looking angry. “Are you just going to ignor—?”

“Yes,” I say, and then my lips are back on his. Yes, I am going to ignore the fact that a man just tried to slit my throat. I fucking survived it, and now I’m floating on this adrenaline high and I need to feel the horseman against me.

At first, Famine doesn’t respond, and I know he’s thinking about the fact that I’m hurt and it’s dark and he can’t see how injured I am—oh, and that I’m a liar from time to time. The thing is, my mouth is a very, very good liar, and right now, it’s doing its best to convince the Reaper that I’m not that hurt.

He must buy it too, because eventually he returns the kiss—and damn does he return it. His arms come around me, and he cradles me like I’m breakable, but he kisses me like he wants to break me wide open and slip inside. His lips are hot on mine.

He leans forward, his chest meeting mine. Heat radiates off of him, and despite his menacing reputation, I’m struck that, to me, everything about him is comforting. His physical warmth, his touch, his desire.

We’re oil and water; we’re not supposed to mix, yet here we are. His hands are wild as they dig through my hair. I can still feel them trembling, even as they hold me in place.

I feel that craze inside him. My heart beats in time with it.

I reach for his pants, tugging at them.

He catches my wrist. “Ana—”

He’s still worried about my wound.

My eyes find his. “It’s just a little cut, Famine. It will be fine,” I whisper. “I want this. If you want it too, then let me unbutton your damn pants. Please.”

He stares down at me, debating, debating …

The horseman releases my wrist. I exhale, my heart beginning to pound.

As I begin undoing the horseman’s trousers, Famine’s hands skim down my body. There’s a gentleness to his touch that wasn’t there before, and I can’t decide whether he’s simply worried about my injury, or if it’s something else. Whatever it is, it causes me to pause. I want to savor this. I’ve so rarely gotten to savor intimacy.

Buttons descend the front of my ruined dress, and one by one the horseman undoes them, slowly peeling the garment away from my body.

As soon as he reveals my stomach, his hands go to my scars. He hesitates, then places soft kisses along them.

The Reaper doesn’t ask for my forgiveness again, but nonetheless I feel his apology in the brush of his lips. I feel something else too—something that seems an awful lot like adoration.

This is new, so new. I feel like so much more than my flesh is being exposed and seen.