How Famine is acting right now goes against everything he’s led me to believe. He shouldn’t be sentimental—there’s no room for sentimentality in that dark heart of his—and yet he’s handling me like I’m precious to him. Naked, he kneels at my feet. He takes one of my ankles and presses a kiss to it, running his lips over my skin. Jesus, he’s going to drag this out. It’s probably not the best night to drag this out; the rain didn’t wash away all the mud and blood on my skin … I reach for him, ready to speed things up. Famine catches my hands and, twining his fingers between mine, he pins my arms
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