Famine (The Four Horsemen, #3)

by Laura Thalassa

The third horseman of the apocalypse is having a mental breakdown right next to me.

“You really should’ve stayed away. You may still be that same little flower who saved me, but then, I’m not known for letting flowers grow …”

“You are a human-shaped headache,” he mutters. “What a compliment to headaches everywhere.” “Do you ever stop talking?” “Only if you put something in my mouth,” I say. “I’m partial to food, but dicks work too.”

“You foolish little flower, don’t you know?” he scolds me. “I kill everything. If you leave my side, you will die.” I push uselessly at his shoulders. “Then let me die, damn you!” “No.”

“One other inhuman thing about me, flower.” Famine turns his head slightly towards me. “I don’t simply exist, I hunger.”

Famine’s eyes settle on mine for a moment. “Do not read into this.” Oh, I’m planning on reading the entire fucking series of Famine Acting Abnormally Kind and What it Means.

“So don’t act like you invented pain. It’s an insult to the rest of us.”

“You mentioned how you were worse than Pestilence and War,” I say, “but what about Death?” Famine holds my gaze for a long minute, then gives me a slight nod, like he’s conceding a point to me. “Nothing is worse than him.”

“Because around you,” he says, “I feel the oddest urge to use my power to create rather than destroy.”