Famine (The Four Horsemen, #3)

by Laura Thalassa

“You said everything was going to go back to the way it was before,” I accuse, my voice a whisper. “I lied.” There’s no remorse in his tone. “I cannot forget how you saved me and all you have admitted to me since. And I cannot forget how your skin felt against mine and the look in your eyes when I touched you. But most of all, Ana, I cannot ignore the way you draw me in, again and again.” My heart starts to pound loudly, so loudly I’m sure he can hear it. These are things lovers—true lovers—say to each other, and I can’t bear it. It’s my weakness. Ask any girl who’s known too little love in her life and she’ll tell you—this is how you ensnare us. “Don’t tell me you haven’t been reconsidering it yourself?” Famine says. I glance away, picking at a loose thread on the blanket. “Ana.” Reluctantly, my eyes return to his, and he sees it. I know he does. His eyes widen, then after a moment, he flashes me a triumphant grin. “You have.” He stares at me a little longer, and I hear him inhale a breath. “That’s what you’ve been keeping from me all day,” he says, like he’s finally figured it out. But I don’t think he has. I think if Famine knew the depth of what I’m feeling right now, he wouldn’t be so pleased.