I reach for Famine’s armor, my hands meeting the hard metal of his breastplate. He lets my body slip through his hands so that he can grab the low-cut collar of my filmy dress—

Riiiip. He tears it clean down the middle, exposing me almost completely.

I guess I’m not the only one impatient.

I give the Reaper and his armor a hopeless look. “Well, that’s just not fair.”

A low laugh slips out of him, and it pulls a shiver from me.

With deft fingers he unfastens his armor, shucking it off piece by piece. Once he’s down to his shirt and pants, my lips are back on his, my bare flesh pressed against the black fabric still covering him.

I pull at it while I kiss him, and together the two of us hurriedly remove the last of his clothing.

Famine pulls me in close, and I revel in the feel of his naked skin against mine. He’s so much taller than me that he has to lift me up to better kiss me. My hands go to his shoulders, then slide to his biceps—

“Wait, wait,” I say, breaking off the kiss. “Put me down.”

The Reaper’s eyes are hazy, but he does as I say. Rather than staying in his arms, I back away from him.

His gaze narrows, and some of the desire clouding it now vanishes.

“What is it now?” he asks.

“I want to look at you,” I say.

“You want to look at me,” he repeats tonelessly.

My gaze sweeps over him, from that beautiful, wicked face that I’ve all but memorized to the less familiar parts of his body. His shoulders are pleasingly wide, and then there’s those glowing tattoos that ring his neck and upper chest like some sort of thick necklace. The pale light of them illuminates the plants around us.

My gaze moves lower, over a muscled torso that God just gave him because for whatever reason Famine has to go around looking like a babe while he kills us all. His torso tapers off to a slim waist and—

This is a well-endowed man.

“Well?” he says. “Is your primitive human brain satisfied?” he says.

I flash him a wolfish smile, approaching him once more. “You’re really pretty,” I say.

“Pretty?” he says derisively.

I walk into his arms. “It’s a compliment.”

He grimaces at that.

The horseman scoops me up and carries me forward. But rather than taking me to his rooms, a few steps later the Reaper sets me down on the moist earth. He spreads my legs so that he can kneel between them, his gaze moving over my own body.

Without giving me any sort of indication, Famine leans forward and presses a kiss to my lower abdomen. From there, his lips skim up my belly. His mouth pauses at the scars on my stomach, the ones his men gave me.

“Forgive me,” he says, so softly I almost miss it.

I swallow. I hadn’t thought the horseman would regret any action of his.

My eyes find his. “It’s in the past.”

He sits up a little, placing a hand on my scars even as he searches my face. “I think you are remarkably brave,” he says, “and your compassion is uncommon and admirable. I owe you my life twice over, and that is no little thing.

“And, for what it’s worth,” he adds, “you’re also pretty. Excessively so.”

I feel my face heat from all the praise. “Why are you telling me this?”

His eyes are steady on mine. “Because you are human and I imagine you like compliments far more than I do. And for whatever insufferable reason I want to give you many.”

My heart begins to pound loudly.

“Now,” he says, a sly smile curving along his lips as he drapes himself over me, “enough of this.”

He punctuates the thought by recapturing my lips. His mouth is demanding and everything about the kiss feels intimate.

I wrap my legs around him. He’s hard and ready, but rather than jumping right to sex, he begins to move down my body, placing kisses as he goes.

His hands move to my breasts, his thumbs running over my nipples.

I gasp out a sound as Famine moves lower and lower—past my belly button, past my pelvis …

He stops kissing me long enough to spread my legs wide open. I think he’s just looking and admiring me the same way that I was admiring him earlier, but then he leans in to my pussy—

Fuck, wait.

I catch him by the hair. “You shouldn’t—you shouldn’t do that,” I say, my voice breathless.

Oh God, I need to tell him about the grittier parts of having sex with a former prostitute. This could be a deal breaker.

“Why not.” It’s not even a question. My words have clearly not even begun to persuade him. He begins to dip down again.

“Wait!” I rush out, stopping him once more.

“Don’t tell me you’re suddenly shy?” He looks vastly amused at that thought.

Amused and impatient.

For a man who has zero respect for sex, he’s sure eager to have some.

I swallow.

Oh God, how am I supposed to address this? Most of my clients just know.

“I’ve been with a lot of people,” I say.

He just raises his eyebrows, like he doesn’t see the relevancy. “And?”

I lick my lips, my heart thundering.

“I don’t know … what sort of … diseases I might have.”

I’ve had bouts of various ailments. Nothing that has stuck around, but sometimes with these things, vanished doesn’t necessarily mean gone.

Famine’s fingers drum against my skin, and my heart is in my throat.

“So, you’re worried that I’ll catch something from you?” he says, scrutinizing me.

My pride lay in shambles on the floor, but I nod, feeling very, very young and inadequate. I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks.

Famine’s fingers dig in. “That is oddly … touching of you to worry about me, but for the love of your vengeful God, can I please kiss your pussy now?” Even as he speaks, he leans back in and I have to catch him again by the hair.

He sighs, even as he tilts his face to me. “What now?”

“Do you understand what I’m saying?” I ask—because I’m not sure that he does.

“I cannot catch diseases,” the Reaper says. “Now, will you unhand me?”

He can’t catch diseases.

He can’t catch diseases.

I release his hair.

Famine rests his forearms on my inner thighs. “Thank you,” he says.

And then he leans in and gives me a very different kind of kiss.

Chapter 36

Holy Mother of …

I nearly levitate off the ground.

It’s been so long since anyone’s lips have touched my pussy, I’d nearly forgotten the sharp, almost painfully sensitive sensation that came with it.

Famine’s mouth moves over my outer lips, all but devouring me.

I try to stifle a moan. It slips out anyway.

In response, I feel him smile against me.

Oh my God.

I stare dazedly above me at the dark sky, trying to remember how Famine and I got here, with his face pressed against my core.

We were supposed to be enemies, right?

I don’t think enemies do this …

His tongue slips inside me, and I let out a yelp. My heart is thundering, and thank goodness it’s beginning to drizzle because this situation is starting to make me sweat.