Page 38 of A Hunger Soft and Wild

Selis chuckles softly. “Well, traveling with Roan is like dancing on the edge of a blade. Exciting. Dangerous.” She leans in just a little more, her voice dipping lower. “But she does know how to keep things...interesting.” Then her eyes drag over me, slow and deliberate. “And I imagine she’s even more interesting with the right company. You seem like someone who could keep up.”

I don’t understand at first, the weight of her words slipping past me like mist. But then Roan moves.

She stands so fast it startles me, her sword in hand, knuckles white around the hilt. Her expression is thunderous, a cold fire burning behind her eyes—sharp, dangerous. There’s something raw in the way her shoulders square, in the way her chest rises and falls just a little too quickly.

Selis meant more than just Roan’s mercenary life.

And suddenly, I realize—this isn’t just about Selis pushing boundaries.

Roan doesn’t look at me, doesn’t spare me a single glance, but I see it now. The tension isn’t just irritation; it’s something deeper.

“Enough,” Roan says, voice low, tight. “Get some sleep, Selis. You leave at first light.”

Selis reclines back with a lazy grin. “Of course, Talrik. Wouldn’t dream of overstaying my welcome.”

Roan doesn’t wait for a response. She turns abruptly, walking toward the edge of camp, her back rigid with restrained fury.

Selis watches her go, then flicks her gaze back to me, lips curving into a knowing smirk.

I try to hold her gaze. Itry.

But something cold curls tight in my chest, and before I can stop myself, I look away.

The shame is immediate. The unease lingers, gnawing at the edges of my heart long after she turns her attention back to the fire.

Roan

Morningcomesslowly,draggingpale light through the tangled branches above. I sit on the edge of the clearing, sword across my knees, eyes locked on the dying fire. My muscles ache from tension more than exertion, jaw sore from clenching all night.

Selis is gone. Good riddance. The space she occupied still feels tainted by her presence.

Behind me, Aria stirs, the rustle of her cloak loud in the brittle silence. My throat tightens as I remember Selis’s voice from the night before, low and teasing:You’re braver than you look.The way Aria’s brows pinched in confusion, unaware of the undercurrent in those words. Oblivious to how Selis’s attention had latched onto her like a predator testing new prey.

“Didn’t sleep much?” Aria asks softly as she wakes.

“Didn’t need to,” I reply, too curtly. I regret it the moment the words leave my mouth.

“Is she gone?” she asks after a beat.

I grunt in response, not trusting myself to say more.

Aria exhales, the sound soft—relieved, maybe. That shouldn’t make me feel anything, but it does. My grip tightens on my sword.

She sits beside me, folding her legs neatly beneath her, her body close but not touching. We watch the embers in silence, the quiet settling thick between us.

After a moment, she lifts a hand to her hair, fingers combing through the dark strands, untangling them absently. I’ve caught myself watching her do this before—how the light catches in the dark waves, how she tucks errant curls behind her ear with a practiced motion.

But this morning, I don’t let myself look.

“She knew you well,” Aria says cautiously, her voice threading through the quiet like a careful stitch.

I press my thumb against the pommel of my sword, grounding myself in the familiar feel of steel.

“We worked together. A few contracts,” I say, nothing more.

“She seemed... interested.”

My gut twists. I stare at the ash and grit my teeth. “Selis is always interested in whoever she can unsettle. Don’t mind her.”

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