Page 91
Story: A Hunger Soft and Wild
Maybe we’ll leave tomorrow. Maybe we’ll ride until the road forgets us. I don’t know where we’ll end up.
But I know this…I’ll carry the taste of her on my tongue for as long as I can.
I’m so lost in thought, it takes me a moment to register the tone of a conversation happening just behind me. At first, all I catch is the word “vampire” in a hushed, urgent voice. My entire body goes rigid, panic clawing at my throat.
They’ve found me.
Instinct screamsrun, but I force myself to hold still, straining to listen.
“—must be real trouble, bringing her here,” one man mutters. “Heard she’s searching for someone who left.”
A woman’s voice answers, quieter still. “Clan mother, that’s what they say. She’s commanding the others. Dangerous lot, especially if you cross them. Could tear a person to pieces. Best to let ‘em be.”
My pulse hammers.Clan mother.My mother.She’s here?The shock of it lands like a blow to my stomach.Already?
I thought we had a little more time, that maybe she’d be content sending her enforcers after me.
The idea that she’s come personally implies…She’s desperate to drag me back.
The clink of the tankard hitting the wooden table snaps me back to reality. The scent of roast meat and warm bread wafts up, but it does nothing to ease the tightening in my chest. My heart stumbles over itself, pulse quickening until it roars in my ears, drowning out the low murmur of tavern conversation around me.
My mother. Here.
The words repeat in my head like a drumbeat, each syllable hammering deeper, faster.
My mother.
Here.
My stomach churns, the panic rising so fast it leaves me lightheaded. I grip the edge of the table until the wood bites into my palms, grounding me in something solid. But the pressure doesn’t stop the spiral.
She’s close. So close that strangers here in the tavern are talking about it. The enforcers must’ve tracked my scent.
The thought makes my breath hitch. We need to leave. Now.
The fire crackles in the hearth across the room, but the heat doesn't reach me. My eyes dart toward the door. Roan’s weakened, but I can drag her out of the bed if I have to. We'll disappear into the night before the enforcers close in.
But how far can you really run?
The question slams into me like a punch to the ribs. Just when we thought we’ve gained distance, my clan closes in. My mother is relentless; she doesn’t know how to let go.I know that better than anyone.
And Roan…
Roan is upstairs. Vulnerable. Still weakened from the blood she let me take not even an hour ago. I think of her sprawled on the bed, paler than usual but pretending she wasn’t affected. The guilt slices through me like a knife.
I took from her, and now she’s too weak to fight if it comes to that.
What have I done?
The room spins around me. The sounds of laughter and clinking glasses warp into something distorted and distant. My throat tightens, my breath quick and shallow.
I can’t think.
She’ll kill her.My mother will slit Roan’s throat without hesitation if it means dragging me back.
We should’ve kept running. We should never have stopped here.
I need to get up. I need to move. The instinct to flee rises in me like a wave, but my legs won’t cooperate. I sit frozen, the weight of inevitable doom pressing against my chest. My breath stutters.
But I know this…I’ll carry the taste of her on my tongue for as long as I can.
I’m so lost in thought, it takes me a moment to register the tone of a conversation happening just behind me. At first, all I catch is the word “vampire” in a hushed, urgent voice. My entire body goes rigid, panic clawing at my throat.
They’ve found me.
Instinct screamsrun, but I force myself to hold still, straining to listen.
“—must be real trouble, bringing her here,” one man mutters. “Heard she’s searching for someone who left.”
A woman’s voice answers, quieter still. “Clan mother, that’s what they say. She’s commanding the others. Dangerous lot, especially if you cross them. Could tear a person to pieces. Best to let ‘em be.”
My pulse hammers.Clan mother.My mother.She’s here?The shock of it lands like a blow to my stomach.Already?
I thought we had a little more time, that maybe she’d be content sending her enforcers after me.
The idea that she’s come personally implies…She’s desperate to drag me back.
The clink of the tankard hitting the wooden table snaps me back to reality. The scent of roast meat and warm bread wafts up, but it does nothing to ease the tightening in my chest. My heart stumbles over itself, pulse quickening until it roars in my ears, drowning out the low murmur of tavern conversation around me.
My mother. Here.
The words repeat in my head like a drumbeat, each syllable hammering deeper, faster.
My mother.
Here.
My stomach churns, the panic rising so fast it leaves me lightheaded. I grip the edge of the table until the wood bites into my palms, grounding me in something solid. But the pressure doesn’t stop the spiral.
She’s close. So close that strangers here in the tavern are talking about it. The enforcers must’ve tracked my scent.
The thought makes my breath hitch. We need to leave. Now.
The fire crackles in the hearth across the room, but the heat doesn't reach me. My eyes dart toward the door. Roan’s weakened, but I can drag her out of the bed if I have to. We'll disappear into the night before the enforcers close in.
But how far can you really run?
The question slams into me like a punch to the ribs. Just when we thought we’ve gained distance, my clan closes in. My mother is relentless; she doesn’t know how to let go.I know that better than anyone.
And Roan…
Roan is upstairs. Vulnerable. Still weakened from the blood she let me take not even an hour ago. I think of her sprawled on the bed, paler than usual but pretending she wasn’t affected. The guilt slices through me like a knife.
I took from her, and now she’s too weak to fight if it comes to that.
What have I done?
The room spins around me. The sounds of laughter and clinking glasses warp into something distorted and distant. My throat tightens, my breath quick and shallow.
I can’t think.
She’ll kill her.My mother will slit Roan’s throat without hesitation if it means dragging me back.
We should’ve kept running. We should never have stopped here.
I need to get up. I need to move. The instinct to flee rises in me like a wave, but my legs won’t cooperate. I sit frozen, the weight of inevitable doom pressing against my chest. My breath stutters.
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