Famine (The Four Horsemen #3) - Laura Thalassa Page 0,26
moment later, Famine rips the covers off the bed. But if he thought to intimidate me, this isn’t the way. I’ve come to expect all sorts of weird shit when it comes to me and beds. What can you do? Hazards of my trade.
I hear the metallic zing of a blade being unsheathed. “You seem to have a shockingly bad sense of self-preservation,” he says.
I force my eyes open again, shaking off the last of my sleep so that I can focus on the dagger he holds. “You’re just mad I’m not more scared.”
The truth is, I decided last night that Famine isn’t going to kill me. I think. At least, not for the time being. That’s definitely emboldened me. The rest of my attitude is simple bravado. Another knack I’ve picked up since I became a lady of ill repute.
Famine grabs my wrists roughly and begins sawing away at the bindings.
I stare at him as he jerks at the rope. Today, he’s wearing his full regalia, his bronze armor polished to a high sheen.
“You smell like pig shit and blood,” he comments.
I raise an eyebrow. “Because I care so much what you think.”
If I’m being perfectly honest, I’m halfway enjoying not having to look and smell like a man’s wet dream. It’s a nice change of pace. Also, super low-maintenance.
“Keep going, little flower, you’re reminding me of all the reasons I despise humans.”
“First off, the name is Ana,” I say, sitting up a little. “Second of all, horseman, let’s not mince our words. You hate humans because long ago we were God-awful to you, not because you have a problem with my mouth.”
In fact, I know I have a nice mouth—or a naughty mouth, depending on who you talk to—but it’s well-liked, all the same.
He glances up at me, and I have to force myself to not be affected by his beauty.
Famine frees my hands then leaves my side. He crosses the room and opens a closet. Several dresses hang inside, the size and style of them making me think a teenager used to live in this room. I don’t let myself think about what must’ve happened to her.
“So,” I say, shaking out my wrists to get the blood flowing through them. “Did you decide whether I get to live or die?” Because I have to ask.
“Do you really think we’d be having a conversation if I wanted you dead?” he says, yanking one of the dresses off its hanger.
I frown at the garment, suspicious that he grabbed it for me.
Famine heads for the door. “Follow me,” he says without glancing back.
I stare after him for several seconds, not sure what to make of my situation. But I really don’t think he intends to kill me, and I need to wake up a bit more before I consider my next move, so reluctantly, I pad along after him.
Famine leads me into another bedroom. Resting on top of the mattress is the horseman’s scythe and what I have now learned are his scales. The rest of the room is full of a stranger’s things.
The Reaper crosses the room, heading to a connected bathroom, and I trail after him. There’s a fancy clawfoot tub and a toilet, both which actually look as though they’re connected to plumbing. The bathtub even has a lever to pump water in. Whoever these rich bitches were, I’m almost envious of them.
They’re surely dead.
Maybe I’m not too envious of them …
In front of the tub is a pitcher of water, which rests on a shallow basin. A washcloth lays on the lip of the bowl. There’s a clawfoot tub, and yet the horseman chose a pitcher and basin to bathe with. You would’ve thought a presumptuous prick like Famine would at least try to fill up a tub.
“Living in the lap of luxury, are we now?” I say.
“That’s for you,” he says.
Ah. Now I understand why he skipped the tub. Heaven forbid he does anything lavish for anyone else.
“Because you stink,” he adds.
“I’m blown away by your hospitality,” I say, padding over to the pitcher.
What I don’t say is that this situation is odd. Really, really odd. Famine still hasn’t killed me, and now he expects me to bathe? In his personal bathroom, no less?
Does he plan on watching?
The horseman tosses the dress he holds onto the nearby counter, leaning against the vanity a moment later. When he doesn’t leave, I realize with a jolt of surprise that yes, he does plan on sticking around.