Author and Publisher: Sienna Moreau Cover Artist: Reese Dante Release Date: August 25, 2022 Genre: Dark M/M Paranormal Romance Tropes: Second chance, forbidden love, lovers to enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort Length: 80,000 – 90,000 words Heat Rating: 3 – 4 flames It is not a standalone story. It is the third book in the series and must be read in order. This book does not end on a cliffhanger. It is an HFN as there is an overarching plotline that will conclude in book 4.
A fallen angel with a broken heart. The third horseman who rejected him. A love that can destroy them both.
Punished for choosing love over faith, the Archangel of Kindness emerged from a century of confinement enshrined in darkness, a shell of his former self. Rejected by the very Being for whom he sold his soul, the last threads of his sanity were stripped away. He is now Lucifer, the King of Hell.
Famine’s choices have only ever caused suffering for those he loves. He struggles with guilt, blaming himself for what Lucifer has become. He’s certain keeping his distance is the only way he can ensure Lucifer falls no further.
But together or apart, on the same side or not, it doesn’t matter. They are forever bound, forced to endure a never-ending loop of anguish. Betrayed and surrounded by new threats, they find themselves relying on each other while battling their own demons. But soon a choice must be made: allow their love to destroy them both or embrace it before the world ends.
Famine is the third book in the Four Horsemen series. This book is not a standalone and must be read in order.
Content Warnings: Religious themes, extreme violence, gore, and others.
Arachnophobia warning: There is also a dog-sized pet spider named Paul who just wants to be loved.
This is a paranormal, second chance, lovers-to-enemies-to-lovers, MM romance filled with snark and morally questionable characters. It ends with an HFN and a mild plot cliffhanger.
Read an excerpt:
Famine moved closer to Lucifer as though being drawn into his orbit. Lucifer wondered if it was a conscious movement or if it was instinct. It was instinct for him. Every fiber of him always wanted to be closer to Famine. He hoped—even knowing how moronic it was to hope after every hand he’d been dealt—that Famine felt the same. Lucifer needed him to. Needed him to want Lucifer with the same raw need that Lucifer wanted him. It had to be mutual. This much longing and anguish and palpable loss was too much for him to shoulder alone.
He savored any chance just to be in Famine’s presence—had summoned the Horsemen for no other purpose than just to see him again. The carnage of it was delectable, of course, but it was a pleasant bonus, not the aim. The mere minutes Lucifer spent with Famine between years apart was agony, but every waking moment was spent only in anticipation of them. Being this close to Famine and not touching was the worst torture he had ever endured.
He couldn’t be alone in this. He couldn’t.
“These are only the start of the creatures that God has under his command,” Famine continued. “If he’s choosing to let these loose, there’s no telling what’s next.”
“No,” Lucifer said. They all turned to look at him, and he gave them a secretive closed-mouth smile. He did enjoy being the center of attention. And making them wait.
He closed the remaining distance between himself and Famine, pressing the tips of his fingers against Famine’s cheek. Famine’s light-blue eyes darkened, and the sight of them heated Lucifer’s blood and made lust curl in the depths of his stomach. He had never touched another after Famine, even after all this time. And he was starved for the kind of touch that only Famine could gift him. That Famine had been keeping from him.
“Sometimes,” he murmured, for Famine’s ears only, “I want to peel the skin from your bones, make you hurt and bleed the way you make me.”
The heat in Famine’s eyes didn’t diminish from the words. If anything, they darkened further, the pulse in his throat visible, and tempting Lucifer to bite down, to taste.
“It is never my intention to make you hurt.”
“You think intent matters?” Lucifer gripped Famine’s upper arm and tugged him closer until their breath mingled. “When I lie broken and bruised and aching for you, do you think I care about intent?” They would continue to hurt each other for eternity regardless of intent.
“Get your fucking hands off him,” War snarled.
Lucifer didn’t move, his eyes flicking to where War was pointing his sword at them. As though Lucifer was afraid of him. Lucifer feared no one. No one but Famine, who had the power to destroy him. Who already had, too many times to count.
Famine lifted a hand to placate his brother. “It’s fine.”
Uriel rolled his eyes and turned from them, surveying the area. “Tell us what you meant, Lucifer, or be on your way to do whatever it is you do when you have no purpose.”
Lucifer stroked Famine’s cheek and then moved up to lightly grasp the curls of his brown hair. He urged Famine forward and Famine followed, bending to him and resting his forehead on Lucifer’s shoulder. Lucifer’s insides wobbled, pleasure and joy singing in his veins at the instant, easy acceptance of his touch.
Lucifer breathed in deeply, his nose pressed against Famine’s hair. It smelled like blueberries, freshly mowed grass, and a hint of lemon.
About the Author
Sienna Moreau is a dark MM romance author who likes to let the darker side of life come out to play. If you’re looking for morally grey characters, snark, mayhem and steamy situations then you’re in the right place.