Famine (The Four Horsemen Book 3)

You’ve never asked me to change,” Famine finally admits. “Or to be something I’m not.

You saved me when you had every reason not to.
You broke me.
And in the process I broke you.
And now I fear the only way we will ever be whole again is together, all your jagged edges nestled against mine.
I hate that I want that.
But I do.
I want to be whole with you.

Screw broken hearts. What good are they if you die and never actually get to experience anything worth experiencing?

Because I like making poor choices, and you look like the worst one yet

“It was a mistake,” he agrees. “Let’s make another and another. We can regret them all tomorrow.”

I’m tired of watching my words and watching my actions. I’m fucking done being careful so that other people don’t have to be

“Beneath this … image you’ve built for yourself, you’re someone else entirely,” the horseman says, “aren’t you?”
I glance up at him. “We are all someone else,” I say

In a world where people believe an appetite for sex is a sin, I’ve wielded my sexuality like a sword.

Just because it hasn’t completely broken me doesn’t mean I don’t understand all the ways we can hurt one another

We wear our garments like masks. Take them off, and you strip a person of their pretenses.