Chapter 25 #2
Breathing harder than usual, she could feel the panic building inside her when her stomach gave a violent lurch. It was like an unleashing.
Hunger pangs, more intense than she’d ever known, attacked her stomach, almost making her double over from the pain.
Clutching her belly, her stomach howled with want. At first, she tried to ignore it—she was in the middle of a meltdown, for god’s sake—but her stomach felt like it was beginning to tear itself apart.
Grunting, she hunched over in pain as the ringing entered her ears. She was defenseless against the hazy fog creeping into her mind. Weakly, she wandered into the deserted street, one hand on her stomach, the other clutching the side of her head.
Frog monsters. White rooms. Tsunami. Alkimos and Makoto.
Frog monsters. Tsunami. Alkimos and Makoto.
Frog Monsters, Alkimos, and Makoto.
Frog Monsters and, and—
Hunger.
She was so hungry.
When the headache subsided, Soraya stood shaking on the opposite street corner. She was on the side of the Village, a collection of student dorms sitting atop shops and restaurants.
Why was she there in the middle of the night?
A gentle breeze blew past her, and she could faintly smell the comforting notes of lavender and sea salt.
Her stomach gurgled like a dying animal.
That was right; the unease she felt was the combination of hunger and worry for her friend.
She had gone out to look for food when Jesmine had given her a call.
When Soraya returned to the apartment, she found Jesmine passed out on their living room floor and was now in the hospital recovering.
Soraya had gone home when she got hungry again, and here she was—out on the streets looking for food like a deranged beast.
Looking at the empty Village, she knew everything was closed at this hour, but she must have forgotten in her restless state.
Sighing, she felt unsettled. What happened to Jesmine had really shaken her up.
Crossing her arms over her chest, she began to walk around the corner to head back down the street toward her apartment when a delicious aroma of food wafted through the air.
Stopping in her tracks, she breathed in the scent deeply and snapped her head up like a bloodhound on the hunt. Practically running around the corner, she sniffed the air and found a restaurant open. It smelled incredible.
Her stomach growled again.
Stepping closer, she noticed a faint light glowing around the edges of the drawn blinds. She couldn’t see or hear anything coming from inside the small restaurant, and she didn’t question why such a place was open at this time of night. She was only glad it was open at all.
What she assumed was the shop’s name was chipped and faded on an aged, heavy wooden door, making it impossible to decipher. This was odd because all the shops and apartments in the Village were brand new; they had only been open for about two years.
It must have been part of the aesthetic that the shop owner was going for. Rustic.
Soraya didn’t care. The aroma of something savory and freshly baked called to her from the other side of the door. She grabbed the scratched brass handle, and a little electric shock zapped up her arm, but it didn’t stop her from yanking the heavy door open.
Stepping inside, a strange sensation of energy trickled over her skin as she entered fully into the room. It sluiced off her a second later, but she paid no mind as she looked around for where to place an order.
She was relieved to see other customers inside.
At a quick glance, people were sat around sturdy wooden tables, their hooded heads bent toward one another or over steaming plates of tasty-looking food. The tables had lit lanterns at their centers, and a few lights hung around the room’s wooden walls. Rustic indeed.
Hushed murmurs and the clinking of metal utensils against plates drew her further inside. Finally, she spotted the bar at the far side of the room. People stood around the U-shaped counter, which was clearly standing room only.
Making her way across the floor, she spotted a slight opening between two figures wearing black cloaks, their hoods covering their heads.
The people here must have been from a local theater group.
She remembered some classmates mentioning that they often celebrated at a restaurant when their theater group finished with a late show.
She vowed to buy a ticket to their show as a token of appreciation for having the restaurant open at this hour.
She could feel her baser instincts take over as she stumbled to the counter, squeezing between the black-cloaked figures. Hunger consumed her completely the moment she spotted a complimentary breadbasket.
Without hesitation, she reached for a golden roll and stuffed it into her watering mouth.
She polished it off in seconds and reached for another, shoving it directly into her face. This time, her taste buds finally registered the subtle sweetness mixed with the fluffy goodness of freshly baked bread—she was in starch-filled heaven.
“Is anyone going to stop her from eating all our bread?” a male voice questioned.
Their bread? The fucking audacity of men to assume they own every goddamn thing. Soraya would have rolled her eyes, but just as she reached for a third roll, a hand snatched the basket out of her reach—or tried to.
With the agility she didn’t know she possessed, her hand shot out and gripped the other side of the woven basket. An inhuman snarl erupted from deep within her chest.
“Holy Gods!” The male voice yelped as the hand released the basket. “She nearly took my hand off!”
Soraya ignored the heathen as she pulled the basket to her chest and took another bread roll. The bastard would just have to wait for the waiter to bring a fresh basket—and she might let him have one if she wasn’t still so hungry.
A deep, raspy chuckle came from her right. “You shouldn’t have touched her breadbasket, Nokoa.”
“Her breadbasket? We paid for it,” Nokoa grumbled.
Soraya didn’t catch that last part as she chewed on her fourth piece of bread.
“Poor little thing is starving. I can understand that, and so can all of you,” the raspy voice replied.
Soraya threw her loose hair over her shoulder to keep it from falling into the breadbasket. The man to her right stiffened and inhaled sharply.
“You good, Raz?” Asked an unknown second male voice.
As Soraya reached for her fifth piece of bread, a cloaked arm wrapped around her shoulders, enveloping her in warmth and…
Soraya moaned around the bite of food in her mouth as she turned into the man’s chest and breathed in another delicious scent.
“So this is how we meet, hungry little mate,” the raspy voice chuckled, good-naturally.
Soraya reached for her sixth—and sadly, the last—piece of bread.