She hated this constant war inside her, this battle between fear and want and anger. The raw hunger at her center. It was the same broken part of herself she’d tried to give Talbur. The one Anon had left gaping. The one Rone had begun to fill before stripping her bare. Was it so wrong to be wanted by just one person? To love and be loved in return? To just . . . mean something to someone?
Sounds a little borderline
