Page 64 of A Hunger Soft and Wild

A woman with vivid red hair is leaning over the table, one hand braced near Roan’s arm. She’s laughing at something, all bright-eyed and close. Roan doesn’t look entirely displeased, either—her posture is relaxed, and she offers a small grin at whatever the woman just said. My chest clenches in a confusing swirl of emotions.

Is that jealousy? That’s ridiculous,I scold myself.

Still, my feet stall. An odd heat crawls up my neck, a strange possessiveness I’m not sure how to handle.

She’s free to talk to whoever she wants.

And yet I can’t bring myself to walk over there. The urge to vanish, to avoid that potential awkwardness, nearly drags me right back upstairs. My stomach churns, torn between an irrational desire to stake a claim and a sudden fear that I have no right to.

Before I can decide, my attention snags on a trio of travelers at the adjacent table. Their voices carry across the room, and one word alone tunes me into their conversation: vampire.

“I’m telling you, it’s a dangerous bounty,” a bearded man says, leaning in conspiratorially. “Heard it from the guard pinning the sign—some runaway vampire they’re after.”

“These clans like stirring up trouble,” a woman replies with a huff. “But it pays a small fortune if you bring her back alive. I’d do it myself if I had the nerve.”

I shrink into the shadow of a wooden post, blood turning cold.They’ve placed a bounty on me?I should’ve guessed my clan wouldn’t stop at just sending enforcers. A public price on my head will draw in mercenaries, adventurers—anyone desperate enough to try their luck.

Which puts Roan in even more danger than before.

Shame and guilt settle in my gut. Of course Roan’s in danger. Even if she doesn’t care about the money, dozens of other people will.

I spare another glance at her across the room. She’s dismissed the red-haired woman now, or maybe the other woman just gave up. Either way, Roan’s alone, sipping from her tankard, staring out the window.

She’d never forgive me if I just ran off,I tell myself.

But the thought that she could be safe if I leave is a persistent, poisonous whisper.

I retreat quietly, heart thudding in my ears. The innkeeper flashes me a vaguely polite smile, but I barely notice as my mind races.

Leaving might be the only way to keep Roan from getting dragged into a clan war or worse.She’s strong, skilled with a sword, but a bounty changes things, doesn’t it?

The stairs groan as I climb them, each step heavier than the last. A part of me wants to turn back, slip into the warmth of the common room where Roan sat—where I couldpretenda little longer that this could last.

But I can’t.

A wave of regret crashes over me the moment I step inside our cramped little room. The space still smells like her—leather, steel, and something unmistakablyRoan—but it’s just an illusion of presence. The reality is cold and empty, the fleeting comfort of last night already unraveling.

For the first time in weeks, we had something close to peace. No keeping watch. No running. No fear flooding my gut at every snap of a twig. And I’m about to throw that away.

It’s for the best.

I take a moment to splash water on my face from the washbasin. The cold shock steadies my nerves, though it doesn’t erase the gnawing dread of what I’m about to do. My reflection in the warped metal mirror looks pale, eyes too wide.

“You can do this,” I whisper. “You have to.”

My fingers tighten around the strap of my small pack, knuckles whitening. Then, before I can second-guess myself, I yank it open and start to gather my things.

One by one, I fold my few belongings—an extra shirt, a short cloak, the small stash of coins we took from the enforcers. I pack them methodically, trying to quiet the tremor in my hands. Every second, a part of me screams that I should talk to Roan first, tell her what I heard, discuss a plan. But another part insists she’ll never let me go .

My jaw tightens.I can’t drag her further into this.She’s already bled for me.

Guilt hammers at my chest. If leaving spares her from more violence, I have no choice but to do it quickly—before she comes upstairs, before I lose my nerve.

I don’t even know what this is—what we are, what we’re becoming. There’s no name for it, no clear shape, just the steady pull of something that feelsrightin a way nothing else ever has. Like warmth after a lifetime of cold.

But it’s not mine to keep, not if it endangers Roan.

Roan

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