Chapter 64: The Cold that Burns
Nightfall. The body remembers what the mind fears.
They had made camp in the ruins of the mall's old bridal boutique.
Selene, always eerily comfortable around the ghost of things meant to be beautiful, had chosen it with a dry smile. "No one's hiding among lace," she'd murmured. And she was right. The mannequins were decapitated. The silk shredded. But somehow, the fitting rooms still felt untouched by time. Draped with veils and echoes.
Aria barely remembered laying down. The adrenaline had finally worn off, leaving her limp, hollow, and wired in the worst way. She had curled on the mattress of old tulle and foam Selene had made from salvaged cushions. Her thighs had pressed tightly together without thought, her shirt damp with heat. The crowbar was still within arm's reach, but she didn't feel like a weapon anymore.
She felt too much.
Selene lay somewhere across the boutique, silent and still like frost in moonlight. Her presence was a hum in the dark — like gravity. Heavy. Inevitable. Aria hadn't looked at her after what she said.
Because I want you desperate.
Those words still echoed in her chest. And lower. In her belly. Between her thighs. That part of her that pulsed now without warning.
Aria tossed in the makeshift bed, her breath uneven. Her skin too hot. Her mouth dry. She wanted to sleep. Needed to. But every time she closed her eyes, Selene returned.
Not as she was.
But closer.
Touching.
Claiming.
The first dream was subtle.
Selene stood behind her in front of a mirror — that mirror. The broken one from earlier, only here it was whole again. The glass shimmered like frost melting from crystal. Aria's reflection blinked back at her with flushed cheeks and parted lips, pupils blown wide with longing.
Selene's hands slid up her waist, cold and unhurried. Her breath ghosted over Aria's neck.
"See what I do to you?" she whispered, voice curling like wildlife smoke.
Aria gasped, her body arching into the phantom touch. Her legs trembled. A whimper broke from her throat as Selene's mouth brushed lower. Down her nape. Down her spine. Fingers like ice spreading her thighs open.
Heat exploded between them.
Her knees buckled. Selene caught her easily, like catching snow.
"You don't even know what you need," she murmured against Aria's ear. "Maybe you do."
Aria moaned — louder this time. Wet heat spilled inside her underwear.
The dream shifted. Selene was no longer behind her.
She was kneeling between her legs.
The world was soft, heavy, breathless.
Selene's eyes glowed faint silver as she leaned in, her lips brushing the inside of Aria's knee.
Aria writhed. Her fists twisted in the silk beneath her. Her hips lifted, begging for contact. Anything. Pressure. Friction. Fulfillment.
Selene smiled darkly, lowering her head —
And stopped.
"Not yet," she whispered.
Aria screamed.
She woke up with a choked gasp, her back arched violently off the bed.
Her body trembled. Her shirt clung to her like a second skin, damp with sweat. Her thighs were clenched so tightly it hurt. Her fingers twitched against her hip, empty — still echoing the climax that hadn't come. That never came.
Her lips were swollen. Her chest heaved. Her eyes stung from unshed tears.
And her legs —
Soaked.
Completely, humiliatingly soaked.
Aria blinked in the dark, heart slamming in her ribcage.
Shame was the first thing to strike her, thick and brutal and hot. Then came confusion. Hunger. Longing.
She sat up slowly, biting down a whimper as her soaked underwear shifted between her thighs. Sticky, warm, undeniable. A throbbing reminder of what her body wanted and what her mind refused to name.
"No," she whispered. "No no no —"
Her hands shook as she pushed the veils aside and stumbled to her feet. The room was cold, but it didn't matter. Her skin burned. Her blood felt molten. She moved on instinct, almost frantically, toward the back of the boutique where the old employee washroom sat like a half - remembered sanctuary.
Her underwear squelched as she walked.
She flinched at the sound.
Selene didn't stir.
Or didn't show it.
Which somehow felt worse.
The faucet groaned as she turned it, pipes shuddering behind the wall. Cold water burst from the spout, harsh and uneven.
She didn't hesitate.
She yanked off her shirt, then her underwear, trembling as she stepped under the punishing spray.
The cold should have been a slap.
Instead, it was a balm.
Water ran down her neck, over her back, slipping between her breasts and thighs. Her body quivered, not just from the cold but from the unbearable pressure coiled deep inside her.
It wouldn't go away.
Her nipples peaked. Her belly tensed.
Even now — soaking wet and shivering — her body wanted Selene.
She pressed her forehead to the tile wall and exhaled a broken sound.
"I can't take this," she whispered. "I can't —"
But her body said otherwise.
Her hand drifted down.
Paused.
She bit her lip hard enough to taste blood.
Then she grabbed the bar of soap instead and scrubbed. Too hard. Too fast. As if she could erase the craving. The images. The dream.
Her thighs trembled. Her knees nearly buckled.
She stayed under the water until her skin turned numb.
Until even her breath shook.
Until the ache dulled just enough to lie.
When she returned, the boutique was silent.
Dust motes hung in the slivers of moonlight slicing through the skylight. The air felt thinner now, more charged. Or maybe that was just her.
Selene was reclined on a folded coat across the room, limbs loose and lazy. One leg bent at the knee. Her coat hung open at the middle. The hem of her shirt had risen just enough to show a pale stretch of her abdomen. Skin like snow untouched by fire.
Dangerous. Icy. Effortless.
Aria's stomach clenched painfully.
She slipped into a fresh shirt from her pack, one of the few clean ones left, and padded barefoot across the boutique. She didn't sit near Selene. She sat on the far side, curling her knees to her chest, arms wrapped tightly around them.
She didn't look.
Not directly.
But she felt her.
Every heartbeat. Every breath. Every shadow Selene cast on the walls.
Selene's eyes were closed, but Aria knew better.
She watched the slow rise and fall of her chest. She remembered the dream. The mouth. The hands. The hunger.
Her core throbbed again.
She swallowed hard, burying her face into her arms.
The ache wasn't gone.
Only hiding.
She clenched her thighs, but the friction only made it worse. Her hips twitched against the cushion.
A soft, helpless whine escaped her before she could stop it.
Selene shifted.
Not much.
But enough.
Her head tilted slightly.
Her eyes — still closed.
But Aria felt it. That awareness. That sharp little smirk hidden beneath the stillness.
Her face flushed.
She turned toward the wall.
"I'm fine," she whispered, voice cracking.
Selene didn't answer.
But Aria could feel her listening.
The silence was smug.
Smug and cold and unbearable.
She wanted to scream. To cry. To claw her way out of this craving that no longer belonged to her. But instead, she trembled.
Selene didn't need to touch her.
Didn't need to speak.
She had already won.
Aria closed her eyes tight and tried to find sleep again.
But even now, the warmth between her legs made her pulse.
Even now, her fingers curled against her knee.
Even now —
She ached.
Because Selene was the cold.
And Aria had stopped wanting to be warm.
She wanted to freeze.
She wanted her.