Page 66 of A Hunger Soft and Wild

Anger flares in my chest, molten and unforgiving. “The best for who?” My voice is harsh as I step closer. “Because it sure as hell isn’t best for me, and I doubt it’s best for you.”

Her jaw locks, stubborn as ever, and her eyes flick toward the door like she’s already calculating her odds. Like she thinks she can slip past me if she times it right. As if I’d let her.

“They’ve put a bounty on me, Roan. Half the people downstairs are probably already sharpening their knives. If I stay, you’ll get dragged into it—more than you already are.”

I cross my arms, planting my feet, and refuse to acknowledge the ripple of unease at the mention of her clan. I’m not afraid of them. Not for myself, anyway. But for her? For what they might do if they ever get their hands on her again? That’s a different story entirely.

“So your brilliant plan is to sneak out alone?” My voice is rough, edged with something dangerously close to desperation. “You really think they won’t find you again? Or that you’ll be safer on your own?”

She flinches, and I see the shadows of memory in her eyes—probably recalling the last time her enforcers caught up to us, or maybe it’s that night, the one where she finally ran, her whole world left behind in the dust.

“At least you won’t be in danger,” she murmurs, almost too low to hear. “You can go back to your life. No more vampires, no more dangerous scrapes.”

My throat tightens.She thinks this is just an inconvenience, like I could walk away unscathed.

The idea of her doing this without even asking what I want sends heat rushing through me—anger, yes, but underneath that, something deeper, something worse.

Fear.

Fear of losing her.

“Dammit, Aria,” I growl, stepping forward without thinking.

She backs up, pressing against the rickety table, wide eyes flick to mine, full of defiance and uncertainty in equal measure.

“You think I’m going to let you run off and get yourself killed?” My voice is low, roughened by something I can’t shove down fast enough. “You really think I can just…forget about you?”

She breaks my gaze, fingers twisting in the pack’s strap, the tension in her shoulders drawn so tight I can almost feel it in my own skin.

“You could have a normal life,” she says, voice barely above a whisper. “Without all of this. Without me.” I open my mouth to argue but she keeps going. “I saw you,” she adds, quieter still. “With that red-haired woman. Earlier. You looked... like you belonged there. Smiling. Talking. Like nothing was chasing you.”

Her words land harder than a blow.

I exhale slowly, dragging a hand down my face. “I don’t even know her name,” I say flatly. “I wasn’t interested. I was being polite.”

I hold Aria’s gaze, letting the truth settle between us.

“She meant nothing. I don’t want normal. I don’t want her.” My voice drops, rough.

She looks away again, jaw clenched. “It doesn’t matter.”

“The hell it doesn’t.”

She goes rigid.

I lower my voice. “You think I smiled at her like I smile atyou?”

Her fingers tighten on the strap, but she doesn’t answer.

“You don’t get it,” she whispers. “This is my problem. I won’t let you suffer for my mistakes.”

A sudden wave of possessiveness swells in my chest, so fierce it momentarily takes my breath.

She still doesn’t see it—how much of her I’ve already chosen.

How dare she think I could give her up that easily?

As if she’s just another contract, another lost cause to cut free when things get too complicated.

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