Page 190 of Famine

He slides out of me, pulling me against him a moment later. Only now do I get a good look around me. I’m surrounded by a thicket of flowering plants. Even as I watch, another bright bloom bursts to life.

So much for our living room.

I catch sight of a familiar flower—the same ashen rose Famine’s grown for me in the past.

“This is …” I look for the right words, “strange and lovely.”

“That’s your flower.” He pulls me in closer.

“I get my own flower?” I say, raising my eyebrows.

Famine traces my lips. “If I can’t make things grow in you, then I’ll have to make them grow around you.”

“Is that supposed to flatter me?” I say. “Because that sounded creepy as fuck.”

“I’m glad that you haven’t entirely forgotten that I am ‘creepy as fuck.’”

I grab the lavender rose and give it a yank. After some resistance, it rips free.

Famine makes a disapproving noise. “You are such a human—needlessly tearing apart a perfectly good plant.”

“You haveliterallydone the same thing before.” I turn to give the horseman a look, but once I do so, I can see the mirth in his eyes.

A laugh slips from his lips, and he gives my ass a squeeze. “I think riling you up might be a new favorite pastime of mine.” Famine leans over to give me a kiss.

I kiss him back, then tuck the pale purple flower behind his ear. Pulling away, I admire the horseman’s beauty.

He watches me the entire time. “You make me feel things in the most exquisite way,” he admits. “I’ve lived eons, and yet with you I feel young all over again.”

“Is … that a good thing?” I ask. I can never tell what Famine thinks a compliment is.

“What do you think?”

I don’t know. Maybe.

But then again, I’m a fucking idiot, so who knows.

What Idoknow is that the horseman has spent all this time on earth gorging himself on cruelty, but there are so many other experiences Famine hungers for.

Maybe love most of all.

Chapter 48

That night, I stare at the bed in our bedroom for a long time, the lanterns giving everything a soft glow.

Our bedroom.

This is so weird.

“It’s not going to grow thorns,” Famine says from behind me, making me jump. I didn’t hear him walk up. “Unless, of course, that’s your thing. Because Icanmake that happen.”

I let out a laugh before falling silent once more.

Beds are one of those ordinary things most people take for granted. For me, however, they’re sort of a moving target. I’ve slept in them, fucked in them, been beaten and assaulted in them, and just about everything in between. Beds are a bit of a battleground for me.

But staring at the bed in front of me, with its soft sheets, I’m facing a new reality. It’s not just Famine whose world is changing.

“You’re really going to sleep right there. With me,” I say, nodding to the mattress.

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