Page 79 of A Hunger Soft and Wild

“Did you and Selis ever…?”

My eyes snap open. My body tenses before I force myself to loosen it, but I know she feels it.

I tip my chin down, catching the edge of her expression under the shadow of her hood. Her gaze stays on the road beyond the cart, but there’s something careful about the way she’s holding herself, like she’s bracing for an answer she doesn’t want.

I could lie. Or brush it off. But neither of those seem right, not with her.

So I sigh, rolling my shoulders. “For a while,” I admit. “Nothing that mattered.”

She hums, unreadable. “And why was that?”

A slow grin tugs at the corner of my mouth. “What, you looking for advice?”

Aria swats me lightly on the chest. “I’m serious.”

I chuckle, but the sound fades quickly. I let my head rest against the wooden frame of the cart, staring up at the endless blue sky. “She and I worked together for years. We were good at it. And when you live that kind of life—moving from one job to the next, never knowing when you might not make it out—you take whatever warmth you can get but…”

Aria is quiet, absorbing that. Then, softer, “But?”

“But it was never real,” I say simply. “Selis doesn’t do real. She doesn’t do care, not unless there’s something in it for her.”

I glance down at Aria, expecting more questions, but she’s watching me with that sharp, assessing look—the one that makes me feel like she’s peeling me apart, piece by piece.

“Have you really tied her up before?” she asks after a beat, lips twitching slightly.

I huff a laugh. “More than once.”

She lets the silence hang for a breath, then asks, “And what did she mean… breaking your rules?”

That question sticks in my ribs.

I shift, exhaling slowly through my nose, and lean back slightly like distance might make answering easier. It doesn’t. Still, I choose my words carefully, tasting each one before I let it go.

“I don’t let myself get attached,” I say, the words low and even. “It’s not smart. You learn that quick when you lose people. It’s easier not to have anyone in the first place.”

Aria tilts her head, looking up at me. “And yet,” she murmurs.

The words settle in my chest like a weight. She doesn’t have to say more. The implication is clear.I broke my own rules with her. Selis was right.

I glance down at her, and she’s still watching me—steady, thoughtful.

“Really though, Roan, that sounds…” Her voice softens. “Lonely.”

I swallow hard, but I don’t look away. I should. But I don’t.

Because the truth is, itislonely. It has been, for a long time. I just didn’t notice how much until she started filling the quiet.

The cart jostles over a rough patch, and she presses against me to keep her balance. My arm tightens around her waist, steadying her instinctively. Her breath hitches, barely audible.

Something shifts in the air between us, something slow and warm, curling through my chest like embers catching on dry wood.

“You were incredible back there,” I say, voice lower than I mean for it to be.

Aria blinks at the sudden change in topic. “What?”

“The way you stood up to Selis,” I clarify, letting my fingers skim lightly over her hip before I catch myself and stop. “I’ve never had anyone defend me like that.”

Her lips part slightly, a flush creeping up her neck. “Well,” she mutters, shifting as if suddenly self-conscious. “She was a bitch.”

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