Chapter 70: The Edge of Want
(Selene's POV)
Selene hadn't meant to get that close.
But then — when did she ever mean it with Aira?
Her control was a fortress, carved of ice and habit. She'd built it over years of quiet losses and colder victories, mastering every pulse of temptation until nothing could touch her. Nothing, except —
Aira.
Soft and flushed and unraveling.
She hadn't meant to lean in. Hadn't meant to let her fingers brush that fragile line of jaw. But the moment had opened like a bloom in the dark — unexpected, fragrant with longing — and Selene had stepped into it, instinct over intention.
They were in a room that smelled faintly of lemon oil and storm - washed wood, the kind of scent that lingered long after someone had cared for the place. Outside, the cicadas murmured without urgency, like they had no idea the world was dying.
Inside, Aira's hand was still folded in hers like she had chosen it.
Not by accident.
Not by fear.
But because she wanted to feel something real.
And Selene — who had once learned to survive without wanting — was dangerously close to forgetting how not to.
She'd fought harder battles than this. Against raiders, against rot, against the monsters born of ash and memory. But this… this was a different kind of war.
Aira was flushed. Her cheeks tinged that telltale pink that always bloomed when Selene got too close, too quiet. That particular kind of heat that belonged only to her: untested, a little shy, and devastatingly honest.
Selene tilted her head, eyes dragging over Aira's profile. The curve of her lips, parted in a breath too shallow. The lashes that fluttered when she tried not to notice she was being studied — wanted.
Not just looked at.
Studied.
Like a prayer Selene hadn't meant to whisper aloud.
Aira tried to keep her breathing even, but her body betrayed her. Her chest lifted too quickly. Her fingers twitched in the folds of the blanket on her lap. That subtle tension crept into her legs again, one she probably didn't recognize yet.
Her thighs pressed together, slow. Uncertain.
Selene didn't need to guess what it was. She could feel it, sense it, taste it in the quiet air between them.
Not fear.
Not shame.
But a soft, crawling heat that had nowhere to go.
A hollow ache Aira was too innocent to name — but Selene had placed it there, deliberately, like setting fire to the edges of a map and waiting for the forest to catch.
She moved slowly. Her hand rose again, brushing the soft line of Aira's jaw. Not enough to alarm. Just enough to remind.
To brand.
Aira shivered.
But it wasn't from the cold.
It was from want.
Selene's ice never numbed. It wasn't meant to soothe. It was meant to tempt. To make warmth feel earned. And in Aira — it provoked.
"You're always cold," Aira murmured, voice barely more than breath.
Selene smiled faintly. Her thumb dragged a soft line across the girl's cheek. "You say that like it's a complaint."
Aira hesitated. "It's not."
Selene leaned in, breath cool against Aira's ear. "Then what is it?"
Another pause.
"It just… surprises me. Every time."
Selene's lips curved, slow and wicked. "Why?"
"Because when you touch me…" Aira trailed off, then braved the truth. "I feel warmer."
There it was.
Selene watched the blush deepen across her cheeks, watched her eyes widen like she hadn't expected herself to say it aloud.
She drew back slightly, letting her gaze sweep over Aira's face. "Your skin's warm," she whispered. "But your center…"
She didn't finish the sentence.
She didn't have to.
Aira's breath caught. Her fingers knotted into the blanket again, like it might ground her. Her legs shifted, almost reflexive.
"You don't even know what you're aching for yet, do you?" Selene asked, her voice dark velvet. "Poor thing."
"I'm not —" Aira's protest broke on the first word. She faltered. "I don't ache."
Selene said nothing.
She just looked at her. Let her silence do the undressing.
Aira looked away, jaw tightening, but her blush remained, traitorous and bright.
"I think…" she whispered, "something's wrong with me."
Selene blinked slowly. "Wrong?"
Aira met her eyes, wide and unsure. "I've never felt like this before. My chest gets tight. My stomach flips. And sometimes… when you look at me… it's like…"
"Like what?" Selene asked, voice a shade too soft.
Aira hesitated. Her lips trembled. "Like I can't breathe, but I don't want you to stop."
Selene didn't move.
She let the words settle between them. Let the confession bloom.
She leaned closer again, her lips a whisper from the line of Aira's throat. The girl's pulse throbbed there, fast and unsteady.
"You're not broken," Selene murmured. "You're just waking up."
"To what?"
Selene's mouth brushed her ear.
"To want."
Aira gasped, breath snagging in her throat.
She leaned back instinctively, startled — but Selene caught her wrist, gently. No pressure. Just touch.
Her thumb circled over the pulse point there — cool, steady, deliberate.
"You're trembling," Selene said.
"I — I don't know why."
Selene tilted her head, studying her. "Don't you?"
Aira didn't answer.
Didn't need to.
The blanket shifted slightly as her legs drew up, tension coiling. A nervous flicker moved across her body — so subtle most would miss it.
But not Selene.
She counted those signs. Lived for them.
"I feel like something's about to happen," Aira whispered.
Selene leaned down, her voice like smoke. "Something is."
Aira's body leaned forward without realizing it. Drawn.
And Selene — gods, Selene wanted to close the distance. To taste the heat building under Aira's skin. To make her cry out just to hear what her voice sounded like when it broke.
But she didn't.
Instead, she exhaled, slowly. Icy breath slipping down the side of Aira's neck.
"I won't kiss you," she said.
Aira's eyes flew open.
"Why?"
Selene smiled faintly. "Because I want it too badly."
Aira blinked, lips parting.
Selene brushed a lock of hair from her face, thumb grazing the curve of her cheek. "I want to do more than kiss you. And you're not ready."
"I…" Aira looked away, flustered. Her legs shifted again beneath the blanket. "I don't know what I'm feeling."
"Yes, you do," Selene said, voice lower. "You just don't have a name for it yet."
Aira's breath came faster now.
Selene's presence draped over her like snow — quiet, inescapable.
"I'm not trying to ruin you," she whispered, almost kindly.
A pause.
"Not yet."
Aira looked up, startled.
Selene didn't flinch.
She didn't have to.
"Sleep," she murmured. She pulled the blanket over Aira's lap, tucking her in with quiet tenderness. "Tomorrow you'll pretend none of this happened. But your body won't forget."
Aira was silent.
She didn't push.
Didn't protest.
Just stared down at her lap as if afraid to move and lose the heat Selene had built inside her.
Selene leaned back, slow and careful, resting against the headboard. Her eyes never left the girl curled next to her.
She didn't sleep.
She just listened.
To the rise and fall of Aira's breath. To the faint, restless shifts of her thighs under the covers. To the low, aching silence that wrapped around them both like a shared secret.
And when Aira squirmed slightly again, her body betraying her despite her stillness —
Selene smiled in the dark.
Good.
Let her ache. Let her burn slowly.
Let the want hollow her out.
And when the time came — when Aira was trembling and helpless and begging for release — Selene would be there.
Waiting.
Ready to teach her how to fall.