Chapter 49: Cold Fire
The dreams started with her voice.
Not the voice of the real Selene—the one who moved with silence like shadow made flesh, who looked at Aria like she was made of breakable light—but the Selene that came in sleep. The one her body remembered better than her mind could.
The morning that followed came reluctantly. The clouds hung low and heavy, and the rain had softened into a mist that clung to the windows like breath. Nothing outside looked real anymore. The forest blurred into grey-green smears, trees half-submerged in fog. Even the sky had forgotten how to be blue.
Inside the house, there was no sound.
No birds. No creaking floorboards. No voices.
Just the memory of last night's heat.
Of Selene's breath against her skin.
Of hunger she couldn't name.
Aria hadn't truly slept. Her eyes had closed. Her body had stilled—but it wasn't rest. It was surrender. Her sheets had twisted beneath her. Her nightshirt clung to her back with sweat, her thighs slick with something more shameful. Her skin had burned from the inside out, hips grinding into her mattress, her breath caught on whimpers she'd never meant to make.
She hadn't even been aware of how deep it went—how raw the ache was—until she'd woken up gasping, chest heaving, underwear soaked and sticking to her. Her core pulsed, hot and wet. Her fingers had drifted between her legs before she could stop them, desperate, confused. But even when she touched herself, nothing helped.
The ache didn't ease.
It deepened.
And it wasn't like before—not like other cravings. This was different. Deeper. Older. Something primal curled under her skin like a sleeping beast beginning to stretch.
Her dreams weren't innocent anymore.
Selene stood at the edge of her bed in them, not just watching—but hunting. Her body was cold, her mouth cruel. She traced Aria's thighs with precision, her touch coaxing not pain—but yielding. She whispered things Aria couldn't repeat, kissed her neck like a brand, pressed her fingers inside her until she forgot where the dream ended and the hunger began.
Aria had cried out Selene's name in her sleep.
And Selene heard.
She always did.
By the time Aria pulled herself from bed that morning, she felt raw. Her thighs trembled. Her mouth was dry. Her heart beat in a rhythm she didn't understand—like it was keeping time with something much older than her body.
She didn't realize it yet.
But her bloodline had begun to stir.
Something passed down in whispers. A succubi's touch. Dormant. Suppressed.
Until now.
She came downstairs slowly, trying to control her breath, her limbs, the residual fire pooling low in her belly. She wore a new shirt, fresh underwear, but it didn't help. She still felt ruined.
And Selene—of course—was already in the kitchen.
She always woke first. Aria sometimes wondered if she ever truly slept.
Selene stood by the counter, slicing an apple with a small hunting knife. Each motion was practiced, elegant, sharp. She wore a loose shirt, half-tucked, and low-slung pants that hung off her hips like an afterthought. Her hair, damp from the mist, curled at the ends. She looked like sin sculpted into grace.
Aria stopped in the doorway, her breath snagging before she could speak.
Selene didn't turn.
"You're late," she said mildly, her voice calm—but edged.
"I… overslept," Aria lied.
She hadn't. Not really.
Selene hummed softly, like she didn't believe her.
"You're flushed again."
Aria's heart stopped.
"It's warm in here," she muttered, too fast.
Selene placed the knife down gently, the sound impossibly loud in the silence. Then she turned, her gaze dragging over Aria's body in slow, measured detail.
It wasn't cruel.
It wasn't kind either.
It was knowing.
And Aria felt her breath catch.
Selene walked toward her with an apple slice in hand. Her movements were unhurried. Intentional.
Always too close.
That cold aura clung to her like mist. She didn't radiate heat. She took it. Pulled it into herself like a tide. And when she stopped in front of Aria, all Aria could feel was the burn spreading from her chest downward.
Selene raised the apple.
Offered it.
Just like that.
No threat. No touch. Just a quiet dare.
Aria's lips parted before her mind could catch up. Selene placed the slice on her tongue, brushing her bottom lip as she did.
The cold of her fingers lit sparks in Aria's core.
And the sweetness of the apple vanished instantly—eclipsed by the need curling in her gut.
Selene's eyes flicked lower.
"You're still aching."
Aria flinched.
"I'm not."
Selene tilted her head. "Your pupils are blown. Your breathing's shallow. And your thighs… they're tense. Still pulsing."
Aria bit her lip, shame flooding her face.
Selene leaned closer.
"You dreamed of me again."
It wasn't a question.
Aria turned away. "I didn't—It's not like I wanted—"
"You did," Selene said softly. "Your body's ahead of your mind. It knows what it needs. Even if you don't."
Aria clenched her fists. "It's not fair. You're doing something. You're making me—feel like this."
Selene didn't deny it.
But she did smile.
"Of course I'm tempting you," she said. "I've known since the beginning. Something in your blood calls out—hungry, ancient, barely awake. You don't know what you are, do you?"
Aria blinked, heart lurching. "What…?"
Selene stepped back, slowly, as if giving space to the words she was about to say.
"There's more in you than mortal softness," she said. "I felt it the first time you moaned my name. Not out loud. Not consciously. But in your dreams. You called for me like you belonged to the dark."
Aria shook her head. "That's insane—"
"It's truth." Selene's tone hardened, but not with cruelty. "Your bloodline… it's blooming. Succubi heritage. Dormant, maybe—buried under humanity—but it's waking up. And it's hungry."
Aria felt like she couldn't breathe.
"No… That's not—That can't be true—"
"Your scent changes when you dream," Selene whispered. "Your soul curls inward when you're wet. You ache for domination, for touch, for surrender. It's not weakness, Aria. It's instinct."
"I don't want it!" she snapped, her voice cracking.
"You don't get to choose," Selene said. "It's already inside you. The question isn't if you'll give in. It's when."
She stepped forward again, slow and steady. Her presence pressed against Aria like cold air laced with smoke.
"Do you think I can't feel it? That pulse between your legs? The way your aura latches to mine? You don't even realize it—but you've been feeding off me."
Aria's lips trembled.
"No—"
"Yes," Selene said gently. "Every time I touch you, your energy sharpens. Every time you dream of me, your body ripens with need. You're blooming, little one. And I am your first taste of winter."
Aria's breath shuddered. She backed into the wall behind her, as if it could hold her upright.
Selene leaned in, her hand sliding to rest beside Aria's head.
Her breath touched Aria's lips.
"I'm not going to take you," she said. "Not yet."
Aria's eyes widened.
"I want you to want it," Selene continued. "Not because of instinct. But because you choose me."
"I—I can't—"
"You will," Selene whispered. "Because the fire inside you isn't meant to burn alone. And I'm the only one cold enough to tame it."
Aria shut her eyes.
But all she saw were dreams.
Dreams where Selene's hands marked her.
Dreams where she begged to be taken.
Dreams where she belonged.
Selene kissed her—soft, cool, claiming.
And then—
She pulled back.
Aria slumped against the wall, breathing ragged. Her hands trembled.
Selene turned toward the stairs, her voice echoing like snow.
"Tonight, we'll sleep. But soon, you'll stop pretending it's just a dream."
And she vanished into the shadows once more.
Aria didn't follow.
She couldn't.
Because she knew—
Tonight, the dreams would return.
And this time… she wasn't sure she wanted to wake up.