Page 109 of Famine

I all but stomp back to my seat.

“You’re in a fine mood tonight,” he remarks.

“You’re one to talk,” I snap back at him.

“My mood is great—or it will be, once I eviscerate our host.”

There’s a stretch of silence, then Famine adds, “You’re still upset that I let Heitor live, aren’t you?”

What’s the use lying? Iamupset, and I am beyond caring if that makes me a shitty person.

“Among other things,” I say.

Famine raises his eyebrows, looking absurdly delighted. “Oh, there are other things you’re also upset about? Howveryfascinating. What a magic trick it is to earn a woman’s ire without trying at all.”

I glare at my plate. “God, you would make a fantastic human. You’d fit right in with the rest of my clients.”

“Watch your words.”

“Why?” I challenge, now turning my blazing gaze back on the horseman. “What could youpossiblydo to me that hasn’t already been done before? I’m tired of watching my words and watching my actions. I’m fuckingdonebeing careful so that other people don’t have to be.”

Abruptly I stand and pick up my delicate wine glass. I don’t know what I’m doing until I cock back my arm and throw it at the far wall. Glass shatters on impact and wine splatters across the embellished wallpaper, dripping down its length.

It feels good to destroy Rocha’s things, things that probably cost a fortune and that Famine is enjoying at the moment. It feels so good in fact that, caught up in the moment, I grab the tablecloth and yank ithard, sending food and dinnerware careening everywhere. Porcelain plates fall to the floor, shattering as they dump their contents. The sound of all that finery breaking is music to my ears. I can’t find it in myself to feel bad for my actions. Not today and not among the wolves I’m surrounded by.

Only once it’s all over do I face the horseman again, my breathing a little heavy.

“Finally,” Famine says, a smile curving the corners of his lips, “a hint of your fire.”

Chapter 28

The horseman stands, his chair scraping out behind him. A few pieces of food fall out of his lap as he does so, but he doesn’t seem to notice them.

He closes the distance between us, looking just as scary and intimidating as ever. The Reaper steps in so close our chests nearly touch, keeping eye contact the entire time.

I’m still angry, but now there’s this confusion to add to it. I assumed acting out would piss Famine off. Instead, he’s looking at me like I’m wine he wants to taste.

The horseman takes my hand, his own dwarfing mine, and then he leads me from the room. And damn him and damn me, but I go along with it as though I didn’t learn my lesson the first time with Heitor.

“What are you doing?” I say as he pulls me along, moving through the expansive house. “Aren’t you mad?” I ask.

“That you lost control? Little flower, I’menchanted. Your antics have been the best entertainment I’ve seen in a while.”

Really now? Killing people suddenly got boring?

The Reaper and I leave the main building and cut through the courtyard.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“To my room, of course,” he responds.

I stumble over my feet.

Famine glances at me and smiles secretively, like he knows exactly where my mind is.

My gaze goes to his lips, and a sudden, shocking realization hits me:I want to kiss him again. Not to tease him or to distract him, but to taste those lips again in earnest and to feel the press of his body against mine.

I’ve absolutely lost it.

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