Page 90 of A Hunger Soft and Wild

Once the door shuts, I release a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. My hand drifts to the closed little pinpricks on my neck, fingertips grazing the faint sting. Strange how something that should feel dangerous turned into something…intimate.

I let out a small laugh, still a bit dazed, and lean back on my palms.

I’ll stay put—for the moment, anyway—just like she said. And as the lingering warmth from her bite pulses softly at my neck, I wonder if, for the first time in my life, I’m actually okay with being fussed over.

Aria

Ihardlynoticetherickety steps as I descend from our room, humming some nameless tune under my breath. It’s ridiculous, really, how light I feel. My limbs aren’t weighed down by hunger anymore, and my heart—well,thatmight be another story, entirely.

A faint, delighted flush lingers on my cheeks, not just from feeding on Roan… but from everything else that followed. The memory of her taste and the warmth of her body pressed to mine fills me with a dizzying sort of joy.

I press a hand lightly to my lips, remembering the feel of hers. Her taste still lingers on my tongue. And the way she looked afterward… half-lidded, pink-cheeked, her voice raw with wonder after I finished feeding.

She didn’t recoil. She didn’t look at me like some monster, the way so many others have in the past, even the more willing bloodslaves that my clan kept.

Roan looked content. Sated. Soft in a way she rarely lets herself be.

And I want to keep that softness safe. I want to see her eyes go soft like that again. Maybe only for me.

The tavern door creaks open at the bottom of the stairs, and I slip through, half-dreaming. The scent of stewed meat and fresh bread wraps around me like a warm shawl, tugging me back into the real world. Voices rise and fall around the room—tankards clink, chairs scrape, someone laughs too loud.

It’s grounding. And yet… part of me is still upstairs, tangled with her.

I weave through the narrow path between tables and stools, making my way toward the counter. The innkeeper turns just as I approach, wiping a mug with a cloth that’s seen better days. It’s the same woman who handed us our room key—the one who asked, not-so-innocently, “One bed or two?”

Heat flares across my face.

She doesn’t say anything, but her eyes do a slow, knowing sweep over me. Then she smirks—subtle, restrained—but it’s there. Gods, she knows.

“What can I get you?” she asks, all business, but her tone is amused beneath the din of the tavern.

I keep my chin up as I slide a few coins onto the counter. “Something hearty. Good meat, whatever’s hot. And a mug of ale.”

“For you or the lady up in your room?” she asks, already turning toward the kitchen window.

I blink. My mouth opens, but no sound comes out.

She chuckles under her breath. “Thought so.”

Mortified, I duck my head and busy myself with brushing nonexistent lint from my sleeve. “Thank you,” I mutter, trying not to combust on the spot.

She hums in response, hollering the order into the back. I take a seat at the edge of the counter, fingers tapping restlessly against the scarred wood.

My thoughts drift again—to Roan, of course. Always her.

Feeding from her had been… different. Not just because of the sex that shortly followed, but because it felt like something sacred. Like she offered herself not out of obligation or reckless curiosity, but trust. Real trust.

A half-buried memory surges: a terrified villager pinned by one of my clan’s brutes, crying out while I stood frozen nearby, forced to take my share. The taste of their blood was bitter with fear and revulsion, the act forced and violent.

My clan’s way—my mother’s way—was always about domination, never tenderness.

But tonight…tonight was different. There was no fear in Roan’s gasp, only a startled kind of pleasure mixed with a little pain. And I felt safe, enveloped in her strength instead of drowning in another’s terror.

I let out a soft, contented sigh, pressing a hand over my still-fluttering heart.

And the way she’d whispered my name—rough and breathless—while my fangs were buried in her throat…

I press my thighs together under the bar and let out a soft, shaky breath.

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