Page 65 of Famine

He looms over the woman and pulls the scythe back, getting ready to strike.

Without thinking, I throw myself in the way, knocking the old lady aside. My eyes go big when I see the tip of that terrible scythe descending down on me.

When he realizes he’s about to strike me and not the other woman, Famine jerks his arm back—

He just doesn’t do it quickly enough.

The tip of the scythe sinks into my shoulder, and it’s sickening just how easily it cuts through sinew.

Like a knife through butter.

For a moment, I feel like a fish caught on a hook. But then just as swiftly as the blade descended, it’s gone, more flesh tearing in its wake.

It takes a second for the pain to register, but once it does, I gasp, my legs buckling.

“Ana,” Famine says, aghast, dropping the blade.

The woman shrieks again. Then, while the horseman is distracted, she bolts through her front door, lost to the night.

The Reaper doesn’t even notice.

“You foolish woman!” he bellows at me.

He drops to his knees, reaching for me. Maybe it’s my imagination, but I swear his hands tremble a little when they touch my skin.

I cry out as he probes at the wound. I can’t see his face, but I swear he recoils a little.

“Take off your dress,” he demands.

“Oh, now you try to get in my pants,” I gasp out.

“Ana.”

“I’mkidding,” I breathe. “Geez.”

“Your dress,” the Reaper says, his voice angry.

I can only make out the dramatic cut of Famine’s high cheekbones and those cruel, full lips of his, and I’m thankful for that. I don’t really want to see whatever emotion lingers in those frightening eyes of his.

“I’m not moving my arm,” I say.

A moment later Famine’s warm hands grab the collar of my dress.

Riiiiiiiip.

He tears the fabric apart.

Famine avoids looking at my now exposed breasts as he removes the last of my dress from my shoulder.

He reaches for the wound again. I’m assuming he’s trying to help, but I’m also pretty fucking sure he has zero experience helping injured humans.

“Wait,” I say, taking shallow breaths through the pain.

Famine pauses.

“Alcohol.”

I feel his eyes on me. “You want to drink right now?”

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