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

face and head are covered in mud and blood, his hair matted to his cheeks—

“And what have we here?” His voice is like honeyed-wine, and it snaps me back to the present.

I stare and stare and stare. My whip-sharp tongue fails me now.

When neither Elvita nor I speaks, Famine’s gaze rakes over me. He pauses a little when he gets to my eyes, but there’s no recognition there.

There’s no recognition there.

All that guilt and shame I pent up for years and Famine doesn’t even recognize me.

I hide the crushing disappointment I feel. Not once in the last five years that I worked for Elvita had I mentioned that I’d met the Reaper before. I only agreed to this stupid plan of hers because I had unfinished business with the horseman.

Unfortunately, that business hinged on the horseman remembering me.

Elvita steps forward. “I brought you a gift,” the madam says smoothly.

The horseman looks between the two of us, his expression bored. “And where is it? Your hands are empty.”

Elvita looks over at me, willing me to speak. Normally, I have a decent amount of confidence, and what I lack in confidence, I make up for in posturing. But right now, all I want to do is sink into the ground.

Do you remember me?

I nearly ask it. The two of us are like an unfinished conversation hanging in the air.

“I’m the gift,” I say instead, falling back to Plan B.

“You?” He raises his eyebrows, his mouth curving into a mocking smile. His gaze flicks over me again. “What could I possibly want with you?”

“Maybe I could warm that cold, cold heart of yours.” There’s my cutting mouth.

Now the Reaper looks halfway intrigued. He lifts his scythe and stands.

Famine steps up to me, his boots clicking against the ground. “What even are you under all that paint?” he says, coming in close. “A cow? A pig?”

I feel my cheeks heat. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt the burn of humiliation. I’m suddenly aware of how many other people are in the room—not just Famine and Elvita, but half a dozen guards—all of them witnessing this.

The horseman sneers at me. “You thought I’d want your body? Is that it?” His voice is cruel.

Yes. That’s exactly it.

“You pathetic creature,” Famine continues, scrutinizing me. “Have you heard nothing of me? I don’t want your putrid flesh.” His eyes flash as they move between me and Elvita. “You two were better off when you hadn’t caught my attention.”

I feel the energy in the room shift then, and I remember the way the mayor’s family was dragged away not an hour ago. And now that I’m thinking about it, I realize with alarm that though offerings line the nearby wall, the people who brought them are notably absent.

We have drifted into dangerous waters.

Next to me, Elvita looks undeterred. “Have you ever bedded a mortal?” she asks, ever the saleswoman.

Famine’s gaze moves to her, and he cracks a sly smile, like he’s enjoying himself for the first time today. His eyes, however, are as cold as I’ve ever seen them. Sex and flesh seem like the very last thing on his mind.

“And what if I haven’t? Do you really think a few pumps into this bag of flesh would change anything?”

I raise my eyebrows. I’m used to vulgar, degrading comments; I’m not used to … I’m not even sure what sort of insult that was.

Bag of flesh? Bitch please. I know I look good.

“You clearly haven’t been inside one of my women,” Elvita continues, clinging to this idiotic plan.

“Your women?” Famine’s attention returns to me.

Squaring my jaw, I meet his gaze.

Does he recognize me? Does he know?

His unsettling green eyes take me in, and they’re so shrewd. There’s no spark of familiarity. If he remembers me, he doesn’t show it.

“How terrible it must feel,” Famine says, “to be owned and used like property.”

I open my mouth to tell him he’s wrong, to tell him to fuck off, to tell him that if only I could be alone with him for a moment, I might just jog his memory. Maybe then I can finish that old business between us. When it comes to him, my hope and my hate are old.

For a second, the horseman hesitates. I think he almost feels it. But then his expression sharpens.

Famine’s eyes move over our heads. He whistles, gesturing to a few nearby men.

“Get rid of them with the others.”

This was a mistake.

That much is clear when Famine’s men roughly grab me and