Chapter 48: Hunger in Her Veins
They stayed the next night too.
And the one after that.
Neither of them said anything about leaving. The world outside had no hold here—not in the folds of silence that stretched between soft rain, shared glances, and the warmth of something unspoken. This house had become a cocoon—fraying at the edges, filled with ghosts, but sacred in its stillness.
Selene still slept lightly. Her back always to the wall or the door, her blade within reach. She was a creature honed by years of war, and that didn't change. But she didn't keep her distance anymore. Not from Aria.
And Aria—Aria had begun watching Selene differently.
It wasn't safety she searched for now.
It was something else.
It had started with a glance. A flicker of skin when Selene reached for a mug on the top shelf and her shirt lifted just enough to show the curve of her lower back. Aria had looked away—too slow. Her cheeks burned, her breath faltered. She'd fumbled for the kettle like it was a lifeline, but the heat blooming between her thighs told a different story.
Selene hadn't said anything.
But Aria had felt the shift in the room.
A subtle change. Like the way snow begins to melt—not loud, not sudden, but irrevocable. She became acutely aware of the space between them. The brush of a shoulder when they passed in the hallway. The lingering warmth in the teacup after Selene drank from it. The way Selene's gaze stayed on her for a heartbeat longer than necessary.
And Selene noticed everything.
That night, they were together again in the living room. The fireplace glowed softly, casting dancing shadows along the wooden beams. Aria was curled in the old armchair, a blanket draped over her lap. Selene lay sprawled on the rug, her long frame stretched out like a predator at rest, a battered paperback in hand.
Aria had loved that book once. At thirteen, it had been her favorite. Now it felt small in Selene's hands, fragile and silly—but oddly perfect.
"I used to think the heroine was brave," Aria murmured, staring into the fire. "But now I think she was just… desperate. Lonely."
Selene looked up slowly. Her gaze caught Aria's like a snare—quiet, intense. "Desperation can be brave. Wanting something so much it claws at you—that's not weakness."
The words sank deep. Aria swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. Her fingers curled into the edge of the blanket, nails biting the wool.
Selene sat up.
And then she stood.
She crossed the room—no sound, no hesitation. Her movements were like mist finding cracks in stone. Aria didn't move. Couldn't. Her heart thundered in her chest.
Selene stopped just in front of her.
Close enough that Aria could see the glint of firelight in her storm-grey eyes. Close enough to feel the subtle chill that always lingered around her. Not from cold, exactly. From power. From restraint.
Selene knelt.
One hand rested on the arm of the chair. The other—cool, poised—drifted over the blanket, brushing Aria's ankle.
The touch was featherlight. And yet Aria felt it everywhere.
Her breath hitched. Her body tensed, then softened, and the ache bloomed—low in her belly, spreading like fire under her skin.
Selene's head tilted. She watched Aria as if dissecting her, not cruelly, but with a precision that left nothing hidden.
"You're warm," Selene murmured. "You flush so easily. Everywhere."
Aria tried to look away. Her cheeks were burning. But Selene's fingers slid slowly up her calf, tracing over bone and nerve like a whisper. The blanket offered no protection from the shiver that followed.
"You don't even know what you want, do you?" Selene said, voice soft but laced with something dark. "You just feel it. That little ache. That pressure."
"I—I'm fine," Aria whispered, but even she didn't believe it.
Selene leaned closer. Her breath ghosted over Aria's skin—cool, scented faintly of pine and steel.
"It's hunger," Selene said near her ear. "Not for food. Not for comfort."
Aria swallowed hard. Her thighs squeezed together involuntarily beneath the blanket.
"I'm not—hungry," she tried to insist, but Selene only smiled.
"No?" Selene's voice dropped lower, her lips brushing Aria's jaw. "Then why are you wet?"
Aria's heart stopped.
Her entire body went rigid. Then flushed. She hadn't even noticed—but now she did. The heat between her thighs. The soft, slick pulse of need that made her breath shallow.
She couldn't speak.
Could barely breathe.
Selene leaned back just enough to see her face, her expression unreadable—but not unfeeling.
"Your body's honest," she said. "Even when you lie to yourself."
Aria looked down, shame prickling across her chest, but Selene reached out and gently lifted her chin.
"That ache in you," she said, "I gave it to you."
Aria blinked. "What…?"
"Every glance. Every touch. Every time I said your name like a promise." Selene's hand ghosted over Aria's cheek. "I've been shaping you. Preparing you. You don't even know it. But your soul's already leaning toward mine."
Selene kissed her forehead.
But it wasn't soft.
It was a claim.
A silent declaration that echoed inside Aria's ribs.
"You don't know how badly you want me," Selene whispered. "Not yet. But you will."
She stood then. The blanket slipped slightly down Aria's legs, but she didn't move to fix it. Her body was too heavy. Too raw.
Selene turned toward the hallway, her steps soundless.
"Sleep," she said over her shoulder. "Tomorrow, we move again."
She disappeared into the dark.
And Aria was left alone in the firelight, trembling. Her breath came too fast. Her pulse pounded between her legs, heavy and hot.
She closed her eyes, but it didn't help. The scent of Selene lingered. The weight of her touch remained.
She pressed her hands into the chair, trying to ground herself—but nothing settled. Not the guilt. Not the shame.
Not the need.
Something in her had been awakened. Not by violence. Not even by seduction.
By knowing.
That Selene wanted her.
And that she wanted her back.
Not gently.
Not sweetly.
But with a hunger that had no name yet.
Aria curled deeper into the chair, blanket drawn up again, but it was too late. Her skin remembered. Her body knew.
And in her mind, the door to her inner world stood open. The cabin. The lake. The woods.
But something new now.
A chill in the air.
Footsteps in the snow.
A presence approaching from the trees—shadow and frost and fire.
Selene was coming.
Not as a shadow.
Not even as a protector.
But as the one who had stirred the hunger in her veins.
And Aria—shivering in the firelight—was no longer afraid of it.
She wanted to be devoured.