The Hunger Novel Novels & Stories

“We’re afraid you already have. The Hunger's influence—subtle, yes, but detected in your resonance spikes. It feeds on escalation, and your bond... amplifies it.” The Hunger’s attention sharpened then—not excitement, but approval, a ripple beneath my ribs like a lover's hand trailing lower, probing for yield. This was its design—not direct assault, but orchestration through others' fears, widening fractures between authority and trust, forcing choices that fed its inevitability.

The First Heir lunged violently. Silver power exploded from her body. “STOP TALKING!” The Hunger blocked the attack effortlessly. Darkness swallowed the silver light whole. My breath caught. Impossible. Flash The First Heir kneeling alone in darkness. Starving. Crying. Broken. Then the Hunger whispering softly: “Let me carry the pain.” Silver light dimming. Silence. Present I froze. No. The Hunger looked at me carefully. “She understands.” The First Heir looked horrified. “Don’t listen to it!”

A baby born screaming, born old, born gone. Balance. Seven impossible things fed at once. Storm. Fire. Earth. Hunger. Null. Containment. Me. The root that holds. The land paid to make us. Now we pay to keep it. “It wants a harvest,” I say. Tastes like blood. “Seven lives. One for each vessel. Or it takes from Duskbane. From the pack. Years off everyone. Pups born wrong.” Quiet. Then Moira laughs. “Oh. That’s all?” She stands. Stretches. The collar doesn’t matter. “Take me. I’m Hunger. I know empty.”

My legs moved faster than I thought possible, propelled by pure, desperate instinct. I grabbed the plate, my hands trembling uncontrollably from weakness and urgency, and devoured it. I didn't care how I looked, how animalistic my actions might seem, shoving food into my mouth like I'd never seen it before. I didn't care if it made me seem desperate or uncivilized. Hunger had no shame, no dignity. My hands shoveled the food in, tearing at the bread, wolfing down the meat. It wasn't warm, it was bland, almost tasteless, but I didn't care. It was food, and my body cried out for it, absorbing every crumb.

Her hands, raw and red from the chill, trembled as she clutched the edge of her cloak tighter around her body. She had stopped counting the days. Time blurred when there were no warm meals, no fireside comforts, no familiar faces. She hadn’t eaten since the night before, rationing a crust of bread like it was gold. Her stomach growled in protest, but she ignored it. Hunger had become a companion, much like the ache in her chest. And the questions—always the questions—swirling inside her like a storm that refused to quiet. Was this truly freedom? Or just another kind of cage?

I swallowed hard while trying to control this sudden hunger inside me, which was making me hungry like a fucking vampire's thrust for blood. "It must be..." She began saying but I cut her off by slamming my lips against her. They taste so sweet like sugar and strawberries, making me want to taste them again and again like a drug addict, the sudden hunger inside me began to disappear making me feel bliss and warmth settle inside my heart. Jesus Christ. I'm screwed. Author's Note:- Hey guys, DO leave your comments below and vote for the book. love you all, take care. I*:- S.n_nina_arthur

A Dark Fantasy Romance Unholy Hunger ✦ Some loves are not forbidden by men. They are forbidden by gods. •••••• × •••••• × •••••• × •••••• × •••••• × •••••• × •••••• Before Time Learned to Count •••••• × •••••• × •••••• × •••••• × •••••• × •••••• × ••••••

In the novel, Heather was very conscious of her figure so she had a very strict diet. I swear there was something mentioned about that in the novel – ah! It was mentioned that she limited herself to eating only three slices of bite sized chicken breast, or in some cases three bite sized fish, an apple or any fruit, and eight glasses of water. “That was tiring….” The moment I woke up here, the first thing I felt was immense hunger, but since that day wasn’t very good and the maids also were just abiding by the strict diet Heather put up, there was only a bowl of porridge.