Famine (The Four Horsemen #3) - Laura Thalassa Page 0,42
stabbed Ricardo with. I make no move to grab it.
“What would be the use?” I say. “I’ve seen you heal from death before.”
Famine doesn’t call out the fact that if I really felt this way, I would’ve never threatened him in the first place.
Instead, he grabs his wine and swishes it around in his cup. “So, you regretfully saved me, I destroyed some things you cared about,”—he destroyed everything I cared about—“and we parted ways. How’ve you spent the rest of our time apart?” he asks.
“Mainly with my mouth open and my legs spread,” I say.
Usually, this sort of language is shocking, and I enjoy scandalizing my audience. But Famine doesn’t so much as lift an eyebrow.
I will figure out how to push his buttons, damnit.
“That seems uncomfortable,” he says smoothly.
“No more so than having to wear manacles.” I raise my hands and jingle my chains just to emphasize my point.
“So, you joined a whorehouse and made a living out of getting used?” he asks, his razor-sharp attention focused on me. Between his blinding good looks and his God-awful personality, that attention is particularly off-putting.
“You disapprove,” I say.
He lifts a shoulder. “I disapprove of everything you humans do. Don’t take it personally.”
I don’t.
Instead, I settle into my own seat. “Don’t tell me you’ve never wanted to dip your wick?”
When nothing registers on his face, I elaborate. “You know, polish the brass?”
No reaction.
“Hide the salami?”
Nothing.
“Do the devil’s dance?”
Famine brings his glass to his lips. “Whatever you’re talking about, it all sounds highly insane,” he responds, “but given the idiotic pastimes you mortals are fond of, I’m not altogether surprised.” He drinks deeply from his wine.
“Sex,” I finally say. “I’m talking about sex.”
He grimaces.
“Oh, don’t act like you’re somehow above the act,” I say. “You seem to enjoy the rest of our things well enough.” I look pointedly at his glass of wine. He’s been drinking all day; clearly he approves of some human things.
Famine’s mouth twists into a wry grin. “Just because you like honey doesn’t mean you must also like the bee.”
I frown at him, annoyed that he’s making any amount of sense.
“The truth is,” Famine says, eyeing his drink speculatively, “a little alcohol washes away the memory of all sorts of sins.”
I study him. “You’re trying to forget everything you’ve done?”
I don’t want to linger on that thought. I can too easily empathize with it, and I don’t want to empathize with any part of this horseman.
“It makes no difference what I’m trying to forget,” he says, setting his drink down.
The Reaper’s gaze lifts to mine, and for an instant, I see a spark of pain, and I remember all over again how I found him mutilated and discarded off to the side of the road.
I lean back in my chair and fork a piece of food and chew it, mostly to get the taste of pity out of my mouth. Famine doesn’t deserve my pity.
Out of nowhere, the horseman drops his legs from the table. Reaching out, he takes one of my cuffs in his hands, and with a single, forceful jerk he rips the metal apart, freeing my wrist.
I stare at him, aghast, even as he moves to my other wrist, tearing the manacle apart with his bare hands. The shackles go clattering to the ground.
Holy shit. I had no idea he was that strong.
He sits back in his seat again, acting as though he didn’t just literally rip apart iron. “Why did you join a—” He makes a face, “‘house of pleasure’?”
“It was called ‘The Painted Angel,’” I say, still shaking off my shock. I take a drink from my water, my arms feeling unusually light now that they’re free. “And you make it sound like I had a choice.”
I made it to the city of Laguna half-starved, without a penny to my name. I was lucky Elvita was the one who found me and not someone else, now that I better understand how this world deals with desperate girls.
“You did have a choice,” Famine insists. “You could’ve come with me.”
“But I couldn’t,” I say, setting down my water. “You know that. You know that.” My voice lowers, “I’m not the same as the people who hurt you; I can’t bear the sight of pain. That’s why I saved you. But then you killed my entire town. You became just like the people who hurt you.”
Famine leans towards me, his arm moving to rest along the back of my seat. “I am nothing like them,” he