Page 71 of A Hunger Soft and Wild

She exhales sharply, dragging a hand through her hair. “Then explain it to me.”

I swallow hard. “If I lose control, I could kill you.” What more is there to explain?

Roan studies me for a long, agonizing moment. Then she steps forward, slow, deliberate, closing the space between us once more.

“Do you want to?” she asks softly.

The question knocks the breath from my lungs. “What?”

She tilts her head, dark eyes steady. “Do youwantto kill me?”

The sheer ridiculousness of it almost makes me laugh.Gods,she’s infuriating.

“No,” I snap. “Of course not.”

She nods like she expected that answer. “Then you won’t.”

I let out a sharp, disbelieving breath. “It doesn’t work like that.”

“Doesn’t it?” She lifts a brow. “You’ve fed before without killing, haven’t you?”

My throat tightens. “That was different.”

“How?”

Because it wasn’tyou,I want to say. Because the hunger was never tangled up in something else—something deeper, something I don’t want to name. Because it wasn’t like this.

The notion of biting her, sinking my fangs into her skin—it simultaneously terrifies and tempts me. Images flicker through my imagination: the warmth of her blood, the closeness of our bodies.

A bolt of heat rushes through me, sharp and unwelcome. I squeeze my eyes shut, shaking my head vehemently. “No,” I whisper. “Ipromisedmyself I’d never feed on a human again.”

She cups my face, her touch so achingly gentle it almost breaks me. “Aria,” she murmurs, thumb brushing my lower lip. “It’s your choice. But if we’re on the run, it might get harder for you to find animals. Harder to stay healthy.”

I can’t breathe. Ihatethat she’s right. My control is fraying, and the road ahead of us isn’t getting any easier. Still, the thought of taking from her—of feeling her pulse under my lips, of tasting her, even for a second—scares me more than anything.

I swallow past the hunger clawing up my throat. “If I lose control—”

“You won’t.”

The world tilts. The hunger in me roars at the offer, the call of her blood so close, so willingly given. I feel my pulse rise, a tingling at the edges of my senses.

I shudder. “You don’tknowthat.”

She studies me for a long moment before nodding. “Alright,” she says softly. “Then we’ll find another way.”

Relief crashes over me, but beneath it, something else lingers. A low, persistent ache. A hunger that has nothing to do with blood.

I slide my hands up her arms, fingers ghosting over the scars and callouses. I’ll never get sick of kissing her, will I?

This is dangerous. This is selfish. You’re selfish, Aria.

But the thoughts are easily silenced when our lips meet again. Warmth floods my chest, and a darker, deeper need pulses through me. I part my lips, tasting her, letting the sweetness mingle with the sharp tang of longing. She gives a low, throaty sigh, her body pressing closer until there’s no space between us.

We break apart, foreheads touching, breath mingling in the hush of the room. I can sense her willingness, her trust—and it both exhilarates and terrifies me.

“I’ve…heard things. That it doesn’t have to hurt—that it can even feel…good.” She swallows, the faintest color tinging her cheeks. “We could keep it controlled.”

“I…” I start, voice trembling. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

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