Chapter 26: Melt Me Slowly
The fever didn't fade.
Not after one kiss.
Not even after the collapse of restraint.
Selene had thought — maybe — that would be enough. That one night with Aria pressed against her, her cold breath grazing flushed cheeks, would be enough to silence the wildfire threatening to consume them both. But it wasn't. The girl whimpered again.
Hours had passed. Still, that soft, cracked sound slipped out — like the shatter of glass in the quiet interior of a cathedral.
"…please," Aria whispered.
Selene stirred instantly, muscles sore from staying so still. Her body had been curved around Aria for what felt like a century, one bare arm snug at her waist, the other resting lightly over her ribs. The sheets tangled between their legs, damp with sweat and magic and dreams neither of them dared name. The chill of Selene's skin met the heat pulsing off Aria's body — like frost teasing flame, never fully extinguishing it.
Aria trembled under her touch.
Still burning.
"Still hurts?" Selene murmured, her voice a hush against the rim of Aria's ear, low and broken and far too tender for someone who'd sworn she had no heart left to break.
Aria blinked up at her, pupils blown wide, gaze dazed. Her breath came shallow and slow, but her lips parted as if confessing something fragile.
"…your kiss helps."
Selene's pulse hitched. A dozen memories flashed behind her eyes — of loneliness, of silence, of watching Aria laugh at sunlight and scream at shadows, of wishing she could hold her without breaking something sacred.
She should stop this. Should create distance. She should remember who she was — what she was. But every ounce of logic unraveled when Aria reached for her again, fevered fingers clumsy, trailing up the hem of Selene's shirt as though memorizing the chill of her.
"I don't know why…" Aria murmured, voice breathless, raw, "…but I want more."
Selene froze. Her breath caught sharp in her chest.
That voice. That ache. That hunger glowing behind Aria's eyes — it wasn't illusion. It wasn't fever. It was real. It was her.
Aria's fingers tightened in Selene's shirt. She tugged her down. Their noses brushed. And then, with a whisper of breath, Aria kissed her again. Less desperate. More aware. More wanting.
This wasn't an accident.
Selene responded instinctively. Her mouth found Aria's with reverence, slow and trembling. She kissed her not to heal, not to soothe — but because she couldn't not. It was muscle memory. It was gravity.
Her hand cradled the side of Aria's face, fingertips resting just below her ear, brushing the edge of her jaw. She tilted her just slightly and deepened the kiss — not hurried, not hungry, but full. Heavy with everything they'd both lost, everything they'd kept locked inside.
Selene's thumb traced along Aria's cheek, lingering over the heated flush there.
"Gods, you're warm," she breathed between kisses.
"And you're not," Aria whispered back. "That's why I need you."
That simple truth — half - spoken, half - pleaded — undid her.
Selene kissed her again, slower this time. Their tongues met like the first touch of rain on a wildfire — tentative, cautious, but devastating in its relief. Selene's breath hitched as Aria pulled her closer, wrapping her legs around Selene's hip, pulling her body tight to hers, fever and frost pressed together in a trembling union.
Aria sighed against her mouth. The sound was soft but desperate, laced with need.
Selene's hands slid down her back, careful not to grip too hard, not to bruise what felt sacred. She held her as if Aria were spun of heat and threadbare lace, something precious enough to break but brave enough to burn.
Her mouth traced from Aria's lips to her cheek, to her jaw, to the hollow just beneath her ear. She kissed her there too — slow, tender. Aria gasped, her fingers curling at the nape of Selene's neck, not to pull her closer this time but to keep herself from shattering.
"You don't have to be careful," Aria whispered. "I trust you."
That nearly wrecked her.
Selene kissed her again — not just her lips now, but down her neck, across her collarbone, worshipful, tender, as if each press of her lips might draw the heat from Aria's bones and replace it with something gentler. Something safe.
The world outside didn't exist. The sirens, the fires, the broken glass of civilization — they were background noise, static in a universe built from the shape of Aria's breath.
"Tell me to stop," Selene said, her voice hoarse. "And I will."
Aria looked up at her, gaze heavy - lidded, lips flushed and parted.
"Don't," she whispered.
Selene exhaled shakily and leaned in again.
Their mouths met in a rhythm not taught but remembered — somehow ancient, born of longing and recognition. Aria kissed her like it was the only medicine that worked, the only answer left in a world full of ruins and questions. Her hands roamed with more purpose now — over Selene's back, her shoulders, her arms — like she was mapping her out. Like she was trying to learn the shape of solace.
Their legs tangled, knees brushing, breath mingling. Aria let out a soft moan, barely audible, and Selene paused — but only long enough to meet her eyes.
"You're sure?"
Aria answered her with another kiss.
Selene didn't need more than that.
She pressed herself fully against Aria, enveloping her in chilled skin and steady arms. Her cold wasn't hurting Aria — it was soothing her. Balancing her. Dousing the fever without dimming the fire. The magic flickered between them again, not volatile this time, but like a heartbeat.
Selene breathed against her mouth. Aria clung tighter.
"You're the only one that makes it stop," she murmured.
Selene kissed her deeper, fierce and slow, as though she could burn for her and still remain whole. As though loving her didn't mean choosing destruction.
But it did.
And she chose it anyway.
They kissed until Aria's shivering stopped, until the fever melted into sweat, until the red in her cheeks became blush instead of sickness. Until her breath slowed and her limbs settled.
Selene brushed her thumb along Aria's jaw and finally — slowly — pulled back.
She looked down at her: flushed, soft, breathing steadily, her face turned slightly toward Selene's chest, as if even in sleep she couldn't bear the distance.
Selene tucked the blanket higher around her and let her fingers ghost down the edge of Aria's arm, savoring the warmth that remained. The kind that wasn't from fever now, but from closeness. From this — whatever this was.
She bent and kissed Aria's forehead.
"You don't remember me yet," Selene whispered, the words spilling into the dark. "But I've always been yours."
The honesty of it split her chest open.
Because she had been. Even before the world ended. Even before Aria ever looked at her with anything other than confusion and quiet defiance. Selene had loved her in silence, protected her from afar, waited like winter waits for spring.
And now… Aria had kissed her like a girl in need of rescue.
Selene had kissed her back like a girl finally choosing to live.
She curled into her side, wrapping an arm firmly around her waist, grounding her. One hand slipped under Aria's shirt and rested lightly against her back, just to feel the rise and fall of her breath. Just to be certain she was still here.
Outside, the city flickered and burned.
Inside, they melted.
Selene didn't know what morning would bring. Didn't know if Aria would remember this or brush it off as fever dreams. But for now — for this sacred, breathless sliver of time — Aria was warm.
And Selene was no longer alone.