Chapter 44: Echoes in the Shadows
The night air was thick, soaked in silence, broken only by the brittle whisper of branches brushing against the house. Selene's eyes cut sharply toward the window again, her posture drawn tight like a string ready to snap. One hand rested on the hilt of her blade, but it wasn't fear that moved her. It was instinct—calculated, cold, and coiled.
Aira stood just behind her, bare feet pressed against the wooden floor, her breath uneven. Something in the air didn't feel right—not just danger, but something more intimate. The kind of tension that curled into the lungs, into the belly.
The snap of a branch made her flinch.
Selene didn't.
She turned her head slightly, voice low and dangerous. "Stay behind me."
The order came out effortlessly, and Aira obeyed without thought. Her pulse ticked louder in her ears, her body responding not only to the unknown outside, but also to the proximity of Selene's voice—so close, so cold, and yet it brought a flush to her neck she couldn't explain.
Then came the thud—sharp, sudden, as if something had slammed into the side of the house. Aira's breath hitched. Her fingers reached out and brushed Selene's arm before she could stop herself.
Selene didn't move, but her eyes flicked down to the point of contact—deliberate, knowing.
Without a word, she flung the door open.
The cool night air sliced across their skin, but Selene didn't shiver. She never did. Her body absorbed the cold like an old lover. Aira, however, staggered at the chill, goosebumps crawling over her arms. But it wasn't just the temperature that made her legs feel unsteady.
Selene stepped out, gaze scanning, blade drawn. The trees stood like witnesses in the dark.
Then movement—fast, frantic. A shape tore through the edge of the woods, low to the ground. Not human. Not close.
Just a creature fleeing something worse.
Selene sheathed her blade slowly, still watching the trees. "It's not hunting us," she murmured.
Aira exhaled shakily. "Then what is?"
Selene turned her head slightly, her hair catching the moonlight like silver fire. "Whatever made that creature run."
They returned to the house in silence. But the night no longer felt the same. The air inside seemed heavier, like the walls themselves had absorbed the tension and were pressing it back into their skin.
Aira lingered near the hearth, arms wrapped around herself, still trying to push away the lingering shiver that had nothing to do with cold.
Selene began reinforcing the door, her movements efficient, precise. She barely looked at Aira, but her awareness never wavered. She knew exactly where the girl was standing, how close her breaths had become.
"You should go lie down," Selene said.
"I'm fine," Aira replied, though her voice faltered slightly.
Selene's tone lowered. "You're not."
Aira didn't argue again, but her feet felt reluctant as she climbed the stairs. The shadows shifted around her, echoing Selene's presence even when she wasn't near. Every step carried a strange ache in her chest, and something else—a pulse between her thighs she couldn't name. Just pressure. An odd discomfort she tried to ignore.
⸻
That night, sleep did not come gently.
Aira twisted in the sheets, body damp with heat she didn't understand. Dreams slipped over her like silk—wrong, intoxicating, vivid. Selene's hands on her wrists, her voice in her ear, that ice-cold skin brushing along Aira's inner thigh like a blade laced in want. There was no warmth in it—no comfort. Only the shiver of helpless surrender, and the terrifying hunger that grew in its absence.
Aira's breath hitched in her sleep, and a soft moan escaped her lips.
Down the hall, Selene froze.
She had been sitting in silence, eyes half-lidded, waiting for the shadows to move again. But what she heard wasn't threat.
It was longing.
Aira's voice, soft and broken, whispered her name into the night.
Selene stood, slow and deliberate, the corners of her lips curling ever so slightly.
She didn't enter the room. Not yet.
Instead, she leaned against the doorframe, barely visible in the dark, and listened to the soft, restless sounds of Aira's dreaming body tangled in the sheets. Her breath was shallow. Her thighs shifted together beneath the covers. Another soft gasp broke the quiet.
Selene's hand clenched at her side.
Perfect.
The cold from her body seeped faintly into the hallway, a familiar signature the house had begun to recognize. The shiver she inspired in Aira wasn't from the air—it was rooted deeper, seeded in her veins, blooming.
Aira moaned again, hips arching ever so slightly beneath the thin fabric of her nightdress.
Selene turned away before her control frayed.
She descended the stairs with silence, but her mind remained fixed on the image burned behind her eyes.
The girl was breaking. Slowly, beautifully.
And she didn't even know it.
⸻
Morning came late.
Aira awoke tangled in her sheets, her cheeks flushed, legs sore from restless motion. A vague heaviness settled in her belly, low and pulsing. She shifted uncomfortably, unsure of what her body was trying to tell her.
She was used to fear. She understood pain. But this?
This ache didn't fade.
Selene was already downstairs, standing at the window with her arms crossed, her expression unreadable. When Aira entered, her eyes darted up immediately.
"You were restless last night," Selene said, voice like polished ice.
Aira's blush rose fast and sharp. "I—I don't remember."
Selene tilted her head slightly, letting the silence stretch.
"You called for me."
"I did?"
"You did," Selene repeated, and then she turned, stalking closer with smooth, quiet steps. Her gaze dropped once—only once—to the curve of Aira's neck, and that was enough to make her skin burn.
Selene stood close. Not touching, but close enough that the chill of her presence crept into Aira's skin. The girl shivered instinctively.
"Cold?" Selene asked, her tone too casual.
"No." Aira's voice came out breathless. "Just… I'm fine."
But she wasn't. She could feel it—low in her belly, tight, coiling. Something wanted. Something waited.
Selene leaned forward slightly, her lips near Aira's ear.
"You should sleep better tonight," she murmured. "Dreams can be… exhausting."
Aira swallowed hard.
Selene pulled back, her smirk fleeting but lethal.
Then she walked away.
⸻
By midday, Aira's thoughts were a blur. Her mind was foggy, her body hot, but not fevered. She snapped at herself to focus, to stop being distracted, but every time she caught sight of Selene's bare hands, the line of her jaw, the pale curve of her exposed collarbone beneath that high-collared jacket—something in her tightened.
Selene, of course, noticed.
She always did.
And she let it build.
The teasing was subtle—brushing past Aira a little too close, whispering instructions low in her ear, watching with that cool, predatory calm as the girl struggled to hide her flushed cheeks and trembling hands.
Aira hated it.
She hated how easily Selene could make her feel… small. Unsteady. Wet.
She didn't understand why her thighs pressed together every time Selene touched her shoulder. She didn't know why her breath caught when Selene stared too long.
But Selene knew.
Selene always knew.
And she wasn't going to offer relief.
Not yet.
Not until Aira begged for it.
Not until the ache became unbearable.