Chapter 46: Frostline Touch
The rooftop stretched beneath them, a desolate expanse where the world had crumbled into itself. Two figures stood at its edge, caught in the vast emptiness. The stars above gleamed with a cold detachment, too distant to offer comfort, too indifferent to reach the ground below. The wind cut through the ruins, rustling the remnants of broken frames and shattered glass, carrying with it the faint smell of ash, mingled with something softer—a trace of blossoms from the overgrown greenhouse below.
Selene didn't speak.
There was no need.
Aria could feel her.
The air between them was thick with quiet tension—slow, insidious, inevitable. Her shoulder brushed against Selene's, and even through the thin fabric of their clothes, Aria felt it—the chill. Not just the biting cold of the night, but something deeper, more fundamental. Selene wasn't just cold. She was ice. A presence that numbed and cut, a force that didn't offer warmth, but threatened to burn anyone who got too close.
And yet, Aria didn't move away.
She bit her lip, a strange tightness pulling at her skin. Her breath was shallow, unsteady, and the heat that flushed her cheeks had nothing to do with the chill in the air.
"What are you doing?" Selene's voice broke the stillness, low and laced with amusement.
Aria startled, her gaze snapping to Selene's. "What?"
For the briefest moment, Selene's eyes drifted down, and it was enough—enough to make Aria feel exposed, as though Selene had seen something she wasn't supposed to.
"You keep squirming," Selene remarked casually, fingers adjusting the strap on her shoulder. Her lips curled into a teasing smile. "Something wrong?"
Aria's mouth went dry. She parted her lips to speak, but no words came. Her heart hammered in her chest. "I—I was just cold."
"Mmm," Selene hummed, her voice soft, a whisper that seemed to curl around Aria's senses. "You're sweating."
The flush on Aria's face deepened, her body betraying her. Every nerve seemed to hum, alive with something she didn't understand, didn't want to understand. Her chest tightened with an ache she couldn't name—too raw, too unfamiliar. Below her stomach, something fluttered, pulsing with a need she couldn't articulate.
"You're messing with me," Aria murmured, her voice almost breaking under the weight of it all.
Selene tilted her head, studying her with those eyes—cold, calculating, but there was something else in them, something darker. "Am I?"
The question hung in the air, thick and suffocating, like smoke that wrapped itself around Aria's lungs. The space between them felt unbearable, stretching as if something vital were missing. Selene leaned back, just slightly, offering Aria space—but taking something else all at once. The absence stung, sharper than any proximity.
Aria dragged in a shaky breath. "You're freezing."
"Am I?" Selene's voice was laced with mockery, the hint of a smirk playing at the corners of her lips.
"You are," Aria insisted, swallowing hard. "But you make me feel…"
Her voice faltered, and she couldn't finish. The words wouldn't come. Her chest was tight with emotions she couldn't name, emotions that terrified her more than the cold.
Selene's smirk deepened, her eyes gleaming with something unreadable. "Say it."
Aria didn't answer.
She couldn't.
But the way Selene looked at her—the way she knew, without needing Aria to speak—was enough.
⸻
Later, they settled into the abandoned greenhouse, the remnants of a world long lost. The roof was gone, only jagged skeletons of iron reaching for the stars, twisted vines of ivy climbing over rusted crates and broken trellises. Aria lit a small flame between them, its glow a faint flicker against the darkness, casting ghostly shadows across the space.
Selene watched her from across the room, seated with one leg crossed over the other. Her gaze never strayed, fixed on Aria with an intensity that felt like a weight, pressing down on her even when she wasn't looking directly at her. It was both a comfort and a pressure, the weight of being observed. Aria could feel it like a palpable force, pushing into her, crawling beneath her skin.
The temperature dropped, as it always did when Selene became too quiet. Aria could feel it—a drop in the air, a sudden sharpness. It wasn't just the chill of the night. It was Selene. The cold seeped into her bones, into her very soul. Her affinity wasn't merely ice; it was hunger frozen into form. A cold that sank beneath the skin, that turned everything it touched into a beautiful kind of punishment.
Aria rubbed her arms, pulling her jacket tighter around her body, but it did little to stem the chill that clung to her. The tremors running down her spine weren't from the cold. They were something else.
Selene didn't move. She didn't offer warmth.
She was the cold.
And Aria, despite every instinct that screamed for her to step back, found herself yearning for it. The cold made her feel alive—too aware of every sensation, every glance, every shift of the air around her. Her senses sharpened when Selene's eyes were on her—lazy, calculating, predatory.
Aria reached for a bottle of water from her pack, her fingers trembling. The cold, she told herself, it was just the cold.
Selene's voice shattered her thoughts. "Your center's pulsing."
The words hit her like a stone thrown into still water, rippling out, shattering everything she thought she understood.
Aria blinked at her, her breath catching in her throat. "Wh—what?"
Selene stood, moving with the kind of grace that was both fluid and lethal. She crossed the room, the space between them shrinking until she was standing right in front of Aria, just out of reach.
"You're not used to it yet," Selene said softly, her voice like a caress, a dark promise. "That ache. Between your thighs. That heat that doesn't make sense."
Aria's lips parted, her breath coming faster, more shallow. She didn't know how to respond, how to breathe, how to even think.
Selene knelt in front of her, their faces nearly level now. Her presence enveloped Aria, suffocating, beautiful. Cold enough to burn.
"I've been feeding it," Selene whispered, her breath cold against Aria's skin. "Every time I got close. Every time I didn't touch you. Every time you wanted me to."
Aria's cheeks burned with the heat of shame and desire. She turned her head, desperate to escape the weight of Selene's gaze, but Selene's cold fingers reached out, gentle yet firm, turning her chin back toward her.
"You didn't even know what it was, did you?" Selene murmured, voice rich with dark understanding.
"I…" Aria struggled to speak, but the words tangled in her throat. "It's not—Selene, I don't…"
"You crave me," Selene said, her voice like the inevitability of winter. "And I've barely even begun."
Aria stared at her, her lips trembling, caught between shame and the aching need for something she didn't understand.
Selene leaned forward, her lips brushing Aria's cheek—a whisper, a breath, not a kiss. Not yet.
Aria's hands clenched into the fabric of her jacket, her entire body trembling. Her legs squeezed tighter, as if she could hold back the aching pressure inside her. But it was futile. It only intensified the desire.
Selene's lips traced down along her jaw, to the hollow beneath her ear. Her breath was both ice and fire, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. Aria gasped.
"I won't touch you," Selene's voice was low, cruel, intoxicating. "Not until you beg."
"I won't," Aria whispered, her voice betraying her. It was too soft, too desperate.
Selene chuckled, dark and elegant, and the sound curled through Aria's chest like a sickness.
"You will."
Then, just like that, Selene stood, leaving Aria in the cold, her absence sharper than her presence had been.
Aria remained on the ground, trembling. Her core throbbed, uncomfortable and foreign. She didn't know what to do with the pressure inside her. She wanted to move, to run, to scream—but none of it would stop the ache. None of it would erase the phantom touch of Selene's cold fingers, tracing every part of her.
Selene returned to her seat, calm and composed, her icy gaze fixed on Aria, unwavering.
"I want you to feel it," Selene said, her voice like steel wrapped in velvet. "Let it grow. Let it hurt."
Aria's frustration boiled over. "Why?"
"So when I take it away," Selene replied, her voice sharp with certainty, "you'll know it was mine to begin with."
⸻
That night, Aria couldn't sleep.
Every time she closed her eyes, she felt Selene's mouth, hovering near her skin. Every time the wind brushed past her, she imagined cold fingers slipping beneath her shirt, teasing her with a touch that wasn't there.
Her thighs clenched involuntarily, a steady ache building low in her body. She shifted beneath her blanket, her breath coming in ragged gasps.
Selene lay on the other side of the room, eyes half-open, one hand loosely curled around her blade. But Aria knew—Selene wasn't asleep. She was waiting.
The predator. The frost. The slow freeze before the shatter.
Aria turned away, trying to calm herself. To forget.
But she couldn't.
She was already lost.
In the slow, merciless seduction of a woman made of ice.
And she was melting for her.
Even if she didn't yet know it.