Page 53 of Famine
Faster than I can follow, Famine grabs the steak knife in front of him and shoves it through the man’s sternum, rising to his feet as he does so.
Ricardo makes a noise, and the bit of cheese he was chewing comes tumbling out.
“Last I recall,” Famine says softly, holding the man in what appears to be an intimate embrace, “I didn’t ask you to hit the woman.”
Ricardo chokes in response.
“When I ask you to hit her, you hit her,” Famine continues. “When I ask you to guard her fucking ass,youguard her fucking ass.”
The horseman withdraws the blade, blood gushing out of the wound, and Ricardo staggers a few steps, nearly tripping over me.
“Someone, take care of him,” Famine says.
Up until now, none of the other men have dared to move, but at the Reaper’s order, men suddenly jump into action, closing in on Ricardo, clearly nervous about disobeying the monster beside me.
“Oh, and as for the rest of you,” Famine adds, his gaze sweeping over the group of them, “don’t even think about touching this woman.”
Now that he’s very literally put the fear of God in these men, Famine resettles himself in his seat, grabbing an empty plate from the spot next to him and placing it in front of himself.
“Ana,” he says as his men drag Ricardo out of the house. “Sit.”
Like a good little captive, I do as I’m told, pulling out a chair next to the Reaper and sitting down in it.
I stare passively at my place settings.
“Well?” he finally says, turning to me.
I meet his gaze, and his eyes move to my still-throbbing cheek. He frowns ever so slightly.
“Entertain me—or can you do nothing useful?” he asks.
“Oh, I can be useful,” I say, “but you’re not too interested in getting fucked.”
The horseman cracks a smile, and the hairs on the back of my neck rise at the sight of it.
“You haven’t reached for the food yet.”
Unwillingly, my attention moves to the dishes in front of me. My stomach cramps at the sight of it all.
“The last person who did that got stabbed,” I say. “I think I’ll go hungry.” Especially considering I pissed the horseman off only minutes ago.
Another sly smile slips across Famine’s face, and it’s like I’m finally playing the game he can’t get anyone else to play.
“I’m no longer so thirsty for blood,” the horseman says. He gestures to the food. “Have your fill, and I promise not to stab you.”
I can feel the room’s eyes on me, and I hesitate just as Ricardo did.
This feels an awful lot like a trap. Regardless, I’m too hungry to turn the opportunity down.
I go for the water first. Grabbing the pitcher in front of me, I clumsily pour myself a glass and bring it to my lips. It’s crisp and cool and I can’t seem to drink enough of it. Only once I’m satiated do I move on to the food, grabbing a little of everything.
Famine watches me, his green eyes glinting in the candlelight. I half expect him to lunge for me—or at the very least to upend my plate as I did his. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t do either. The horseman loves himself some tension.
My fork is halfway to my mouth when the Reaper says, “Tell me about yourself.”
I pause, giving him a skeptical look. “Now Iknowthis is a trap.”
“Why would you think that?” As he speaks, he runs his thumb across his lower lip, and it’s upsettingly sexy.
