Page 171 of Famine
“This is insanity,” he says against my finger. “I’m having a human experience, and for once, Ilikeit. Shit, I more than like it.” As he speaks, he pulls me in close and kisses the side of my face.
Before I can respond, he rolls us so that I’m pinned beneath him once more.
His gaze searches mine. “This is … I want to be in you again. And I want another smile from you. Many of them. Your smiles make me feel more like my true self.”
My stomach tumbles at that.Like my true self.I understand that statement all too well. It’s been a long time since someone saw me as anything other than Ana the prostitute, but when Famine looks at me, I remember.
I run my fingers over his cheek, and that lighter-than-air feeling passes through me.
Between us, I feel him begin to harden once more. My eyebrows shoot up. I wasn’t expecting an encore any time soon.
“I truly hope you don’t have any plans to sleep tonight,” he says.
I lean up and give him a kiss. “I can postpone them.”
Famine grabs one of my legs, opening me up a bit, and with one strong thrust, he’s sheathed himself inside me once more.
Chapter 42
“Ana.”
I hear the voice as though from far away.
“Christ.” A hand is shaking my shoulder. “Ana!”
I force my eyes open, shaking off sleep.
The horseman is staring down at me, and he looks—
He looks frightened.
I begin to push myself up. “What is it?”
Famine’s eyes are all over my body. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Tell you what?” I glance down at my body, but as I do so, I feel a sharp pain in my neck.
A moment later, I see the blood.
It’s smeared everywhere. On me, on the sheets, and it looks like it’s stained most of my discarded dress. It’s even on the Reaper himself, the blood dried along his torso.
I’ve seen the horseman covered in blood plenty of times, but I’ve never seen him terrified because of it.
He tilts my face to the side.
“Jesus,” he curses again, taking in my wound. “Ana, you told me you were alright last night. I was—” He rubs a hand down his face. “I wasinsideyou last night while you were hurt.”
I feel a flash of guilt. “It’s not—”
“Stop,” Famine says. “Itisthat bad. Ana, why didn’t you say anything?”
“I feel fine,” I say.
“I couldn’t wake you,” the horseman says. “You’renotfine.”
“I’m awake now,” I say defensively.
Awake and naked and covered in blood and grime. I suddenly feel like a naughty kid, sleeping with the horseman while wounded. Unfortunately, that’s how it worked at the bordello. Getting battered by a client didn’t mean any woman got to take the night off.
