Famine by Laura Thalassa

Chapter 53

Ana

I sit in a cage made of plants, seething. There are sticks in my hair, leaves down my shirt, and stalks up my skirt.

The plants around me are no longer manhandling my ass, and they are no longer wrapped around my limbs, but the thick, barbed bush that encapsulates me is obviously meant to be a cage.

After a minute, I stand up and brush myself off, my head skimming the branches that arch overhead.

Will this plant release me if I put up a fight?

I give it a test kick, just to see. When it doesn’t fight back—also, yay for living in a time when plants fight back—I begin to push my way through the foliage, elbowing back branches and ignoring the nicks and scrapes I get from the thorns.

It takes me several minutes, but I get out of that stupid cage Famine wrought.

Oh man, am I going to rip him a new asshole.

I begin stalking back the way I came when I hear a loud, thumping noise overhead.

Whomp—whomp—whomp.

I glance up at the object descending from the sky. At first glance, it looks like an enormous black bird, but after several seconds, I realize it’s a winged man.

The dark angel lowers himself to the earth, his massive black wings beating behind him, causing his dark hair to ripple. I catch a glimpse of glowing glyphs crawling up his neck, but it’s his beautiful, solemn face that snags my gaze.

His feet touch the ground, and his dark wings fold up behind him. He doesn’t carry a sword or a scythe or any other weapon, but I feel as though I can’t draw in enough breath.

The hairs across my arms stand on end; I don’t believe I’ve ever encountered a being that seems as lethal as this one does—Famine included.

He strides forward, silver armor gleaming, his gaze trained on me.

Around him, the underbrush withers away, their leaves curling up and their stalks turning brittle.

It’s the same sick power that Famine has.

Only this isn’t Famine.

There’s only one creature in existence who this could be.

“Death,” I whisper.

And he’s coming for me.