Famine (The Four Horsemen #3) - Laura Thalassa Page 0,59

to the bed where the Reaper tossed his blade only minutes ago. On a whim I lean over the bed and grasp the weapon, tucking it into one of my boots. Days ago I wasn’t brave enough to hide a knife on my person. But a lot has changed in that time.

I take a couple steps, making sure I don’t slice my ankle.

Am I really going to dare the horseman’s wrath by doing this?

I think of the hours spent tied to the bed while dozens of people died.

Yes, I think I am.

Dagger now secured, I trudge out of the room.

Halfway down the hallway, Famine glances over his shoulder at me. I think he just means to make sure I’m behind him, but the moment he catches sight of me, he does a double take, stumbling to a halt.

Now that’s a reaction.

Out here in the hallway, the candlelight better illuminates my outfit, and Famine uses that light to look me over, starting with the hem of my dress—which is in fact a deep red color—and moving his gaze up. He looks like he doesn’t know what hit him.

I raise an eyebrow. “Are you sure you don’t like sex?” I say. “You’re looking at me as though you might.”

The horseman rips his gaze from my body, meeting my eyes. “I am not looking at you in any way”

“Yep, you are. You definitely look like you could bang one out. I’m real good at quickies—”

Famine growls—growls!—in response, much to my delight.

“Enough of this, Ana.” His gaze drops to my borrowed boots, and his irritated expression deepens.

“What?” I say defensively. “You gave me a dress, not shoes.”

He looks heavenward, then resumes walking once more. “C’mon, flower.”

“You still haven’t told me where we’re going.” Earlier, he had mentioned some sort of celebration in passing, but I haven’t heard anything about it since. The dress, however, does seem to fit the occassion.

Famine doesn’t respond, and a wave of trepidation passes over me. Whatever his plans are, they can’t possibly be good.

Outside, his horse is already waiting for him, along with several of his men. The greasy stench of smoke and charred bodies is stronger out here, and I have to swallow back my rising bile.

Several of the guards’ eyes go to my exposed legs. One of them glances from my calves to my face, and I raise my eyebrows at him.

I mean, really? We are literally breathing in human remains and he wants to check out a pair of shapely legs?

For shame.

The Reaper steps in front of me. “You want a dress too?” he asks the offending man.

I raise my eyebrows. I assumed the horseman didn’t notice these sorts of nonverbal interactions.

Apparently, I was wrong.

The man sputters some response.

“No?” the horseman interrupts. “Then stop eye-fucking the girl.”

With that, the Reaper grabs me by the waist and hauls me onto his steed. A second later he follows me up, and then we’re riding off into the darkness.

I’m still processing that little exchange.

I glance over my shoulder at Famine. “You know what eye-fucking is?” I have the oddest urge to laugh.

The Reaper looks down at me. “I wasn’t born yesterday.”

I gaze at him a little longer, and then I grin, my lips spreading wide.

“What?” he says.

“Nothing.”

“What?”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were jealous.”

“Flower, I don’t get jealous.”

“Uh huh.”

“What is that tone?” he demands.

“What tone?” I ask innocently.

“Do you not believe me?” Famine’s voice rises with his outrage, and it is music to my ears. This is what I’d been missing with the Reaper. I can play a man like a hand of cards, but a horseman … I thought I was out of my element, but it seems as though they too can behave like men.

“I’m not jealous,” he insists.

“Sure,” I say, tucking a lock of dark hair behind my ear.

“Damn you, Ana. Stop toying with your voice. I’m not jealous.”

“I’m not the one getting worked up,” I say, swinging my feet back and forth. God but I’m enjoying this.

Famine lets out a frustrated growl, but doesn’t respond.

I smile for the rest of the ride.

Chapter 23

Eventually, we come to an enormous warehouse, something made of corrugated iron sheeting and small, smudged windows. It’s clearly a structure from before, when large quantities of goods needed to be stored and processed.

Now, however, soft candlelight glows from within, and dozens and dozens of people are streaming into the building. By the looks of their formal attire, Famine’s men didn’t round them up so much as they got the word