Page 153 of Famine

Famine continues to stand there. “Are your regrets catching up to you?”

“They caught up a while ago,” I say.

“And?”

And?

I flip over to face the Reaper. “And what?”

Famine is looking at me funny, but I can’t say whether it’s my words or the sight of me so obviously sick. He crouches next to the bed and reaches a hand out, touching my skin. The moment he does so, I have a flashback to last night.

Tangled arms, tangled legs, his kisses down my breasts and between my thighs …

I have to take a steadying breath, just to push those memories away.

“Did we … have sex?”

He frowns. “You don’t remember?”

“I remember most of last night …” Enough to know the two of us let things get out of hand.

He grimaces, but he doesn’t leave. The Reaper’s gaze travels over my face, his entire expression full of yearning. In response, I feel my stomach clench in a very primal way.

He brushes his knuckles against my cheek, the action painfully kind.

“What?” I say eventually.

Famine shakes his head, then strolls over to my empty pitcher of water. “Do you want more? I know humans need absurd amounts of this stuff …”

My stomach flutters.

“What are you doing?” My voice comes out a bit hoarse.

Those green eyes of his move to me. Right now they don’t look nearly as apathetic as they should. “Is this a trick question?”

I don’t want the Reaper doting on me. That does strange things to my mind—and my heart.

“We made an agreement last night—”

Famine sets the pitcher back down. “Fine,” he says, looking unbothered. He turns his head towards the vase I vomited in and wrinkles his nose. “I’ll let you take care of yourself. Grab what you need and meet me in the front of the estate in an hour.”

Famine keeps his distance as I get myself cleaned up, and on the one hand I’m absurdly grateful for it, but on the other … I don’t know. His absence feels like a void has been opened up in me, one I didn’t know existed, and it’s making me feel restless. And that, in turn, makes me angry at myself.

“Stupid girl,” I mutter. Stupid for caringandstupid for pushing him away.

My head still pounds and my stomach is still unsettled. Riding a horse should be fun.

I gather a few items I want to take along with me—among them Rocha’s dagger, because fuck that dude. I shove them into a bag I find resting in the closet.

I leave Famine’s old rooms and cross the courtyard. Lying on the ground are the remnants of last night’s clothing. My gaze slides to it, and I feel heat gathering low in my belly.

Stop—thinking—about—it—Ana.

I enter the main building and nearly back out. The plants inside have run rampant, all but swallowing up the room. I glance back the way I came, and for the first time I register that outside, too, the plants in the courtyard have swelled, seeming to reclaim most of the space.

Facing the room once more, I take a deep breath.

There are no dead people in here. It’s fine.

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