Page 57 of A Hunger Soft and Wild

Roan grins. “Relax, Mouse. You’re moving like you’ve got a stick up your ass.”

I scowl at her, though it’s half-hearted. “I don’t exactly do this often.”

She steps closer, her hand settling lightly at my waist. “Then don’t think about it. Just move.”

I inhale sharply at the proximity, suddenly hyper-aware of the warmth of her palm, the way our bodies shift together in this slow, quiet rhythm.

The world narrows. No running, no fear. Just Roan’s steady hold, her breath against my temple, the whisper of her boots brushing against the wood.

Something flickers in her expression when our eyes meet, something unspoken but heavy between us. The playful smirk fades into something softer, something unreadable.

The air tightens.

I swallow, my pulse a betraying thing against my ribs. “This is ridiculous,” I murmur, though I don’t step away.

Roan’s thumb strokes absently along the back of my hand. “Yeah.” Her voice is lower now, rougher. “But it’s nice, isn’t it?”

I don’t answer. I can’t.

Because if I do, I might say something neither of us is ready to hear.

Something likeI don’t want this to end.OrI feel safer with you than I ever did in my clan.Or worse—I think I’m starting to fall for you.

So instead, I stay quiet. I let her hold me, let the night wrap around us like a borrowed cloak, soft and temporary. We exist here, just for now, in a space where danger feels distant and longing is something we can pretend isn’t real. A fragile breath of peace that I never want to end.

Roan

Aria’shandissoftin mine. She moves tentatively at first, each step hesitant as if she’s afraid to get it wrong.

But she catches on quickly—quicker than she realizes. Her weight shifts into mine without thinking, her body responding to the rhythm we create out of nothing but the whisper of wind and the distant clink of metal from the town below.

I tell myself it’s just a bit of fun. A distraction. But the way she looks up at me beneath those dark lashes—curiosity and uncertainty mingling with something I don’t dare name—makes my heart stumble.

She smells of soap and firewood. Clean and wild all at once.

Get a grip, Roan.

“You’re a natural,” I say, trying for levity.

Aria snorts softly. “I feel like an idiot.”

“You don’t look like one.” I let go of her waist for a moment to twirl her under my arm. Her laughter, surprised and bright, cuts through the cool night like a spark.

When she settles against me again, the tension’s shifted. The stiffness is gone, replaced by an ease I don’t think I’ve ever seen from her.

Her head tilts slightly. “You’re good at this,” she says, voice soft. “Dancing, I mean.”

I shrug, though the comment lands harder than it should. “Picked it up a long time ago. One of my first of many odd jobs involved guarding a noble’s estate during some grand festival. Lots of music. Lots of dancing.”

“And you... joined in?” Her lips curve in faint disbelief.

“More like got dragged in,” I admit with a grimace. “One of the noble’s daughters thought it would be funny to haul me onto the floor.” I roll my eyes. “I was all stiff armor and too many weapons. Looked like an idiot.”

Aria laughs again, and the sound digs into me, warm and unguarded. “What happened after that?”

“Her father nearly skewered me with his cane for stepping on her toes. Since then, it’s rare to find the time to dance.”

She goes quiet at that. Her fingers flex in mine. “Why now?”

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