Famine (The Four Horsemen, #3)

by Laura Thalassa

“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.”

“I am the one least truly alive. I have more in common with wildfires and clouds and mountains than I do anything else. So to be something that lives and breathes is a stifling, unpleasant experience. I am ... trapped in this flesh.”

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