Chapter 76: Her Shiver, My Sin
The quiet held its breath.
Not peace — no. This was the kind of quiet that lived right before a storm, low and charged, every molecule heavy with something unspoken. Aira hadn't moved. Not really. But her body had started to betray her.
Selene felt it in the way her legs shifted again, slowly, reflexively, like something uncomfortable had settled deep in her hips and wouldn't leave. Her breath was shallower now, not afraid, but uneven. Distracted.
Selene's touch hadn't moved.
Her fingertips still rested at the small of Aira's back, deceptively gentle, but ice-cold. Not frozen in temperature — but in effect. Her body didn't give warmth. It stole it. And in that theft, it created a vacuum — one that Aira, for all her trembling innocence, kept leaning into.
She hadn't pulled away.
She hadn't even blinked.
"You're flushed," Selene murmured again, her lips near the shell of Aira's ear.
Aira tensed.
"I'm just — warm," she said, but even she didn't sound convinced. Her voice came soft, uncertain, dragged from a throat that hadn't figured out if it was lying or pleading.
Selene drew back half an inch. Just enough to meet her eyes.
Those wide, pale grey eyes — still sleepy at the edges, still caught between yesterday's shock and this morning's strange quiet. But now there was something else in them. Something low and hidden.
Wanting. Even if she didn't have a name for it yet.
Selene let her thumb glide along Aira's back, barely moving, just a whisper of sensation — but the effect was immediate.
Aira inhaled sharply, eyes flickering closed for half a second.
And Selene smiled.
Aira didn't understand. Not fully. But her body did. It remembered, even if her mind still stuttered over it. This wasn't the kind of ache that came with fear. This wasn't trauma rising in her bones. This was need, confused and raw, blooming between her thighs like a secret she didn't know how to bury.
"You're aching," Selene whispered.
Aira's lashes flew open, panic and embarrassment flaring in her face.
"I'm not —"
"You are," Selene said, steady and mercilessly soft. "You just don't know what to call it yet."
She felt Aira stiffen beneath her, breath catching like she'd been caught mid - sin. Her cheeks deepened into a full flush now — gorgeous, involuntary, guilty.
"Selene," she said, small. Pleading.
But for what? Mercy? Truth? Touch?
Selene didn't answer.
She only let her fingers shift slightly lower, just above the waistband of Aira's pants. Still respectful. Still distant enough not to cross. But close enough for the heat to sharpen.
Aira whimpered. A sound so faint it could've been breath. But Selene heard it. Felt it. Her heart didn't race — hers never did — but something inside her tightened. A quiet satisfaction. Not because she could make Aira feel this. But because Aira had always felt this. Selene had only reminded her.
"You're uncomfortable," Selene murmured, turning her head until her lips nearly brushed Aira's again. "But not because you want to stop. You just don't know how to want it without shame."
Aira trembled harder now. She dropped her forehead to Selene's shoulder, fingers curling into her shirt like she wanted to hide inside her instead of face whatever had risen inside herself.
Selene didn't move.
Didn't rush.
She simply let her hand press flat now, at the small of her back, anchoring her there. Holding her in that state of unknowing — where confusion kissed arousal, where fear wasn't danger but vulnerability.
"You always did this," Selene whispered into her hair. "Blushed so easily. Shivered even when I hadn't touched you yet."
"I don't remember —" Aira's voice broke.
But Selene knew better.
"You do," she said, too gently. "You just don't trust the memory. Not yet. You think it's dangerous to want something that hurts."
"I don't want —"
Selene interrupted, cold and calm. "Then why are your thighs pressing together?"
Aira choked on breath, stiffening as if the question had struck her physically. Her whole body went still — then sagged against Selene's chest, shamed and defenseless.
"I don't know what's wrong with me," she whispered.
"There's nothing wrong," Selene said. "Your body remembers what your heart's still running from."
She tilted Aira's face up now, slowly, using only two fingers. Her blush was worse — flushed across her cheeks, down her throat. Her eyes glistened, like the pressure was too much, like she might cry and not know why.
"I shouldn't want you," Aira said, barely audible. "Not like this. Not now."
Selene didn't smile. She didn't need to.
She leaned in, lips brushing the edge of Aira's jaw — not kissing, just letting her presence burn there, ice trailing heat.
"You don't want me," she whispered, low and silken. "You crave me. And that's why you're terrified."
Aira's mouth parted — no sound. Only a shudder.
Selene could see her fighting it.
Fighting the image of herself undone. Fighting the way her hips had shifted forward, closer, as if instinct knew what the mind refused.
"I'm not ready," Aira said suddenly. A confession. A barrier she flung up between them like it might protect her from whatever spell Selene had wrapped around her.
Selene paused.
She eased back — not far, just enough that Aira could breathe again.
"I know," she said.
And this time, her voice was softer. Almost tender. Still cool. But not cruel.
"You're allowed to want and not be ready. I won't take what's not freely given."
Aira looked up, ashamed and relieved all at once. "Then why do you keep… doing this?"
Selene tilted her head. Her eyes were half - lidded now, silver in the light like storm - washed glass. She reached up, brushing a stray piece of hair behind Aira's ear with careful precision.
"Because," she said slowly, "when you're ready… I don't want you to come to me because you feel safe."
Aira blinked, confused. "Then why?"
"I want you to come to me because nothing else will do."
Aira's breath caught again.
She knew that kind of wanting. Even if she couldn't name it yet. She'd felt it last night in the dark, when she clung to Selene like she was drowning and only her body could float. She felt it now, pulsing low, dull and constant between her legs, like a bruise that longed to be pressed.
Selene leaned in — this time her lips brushed her forehead.
Then she stood.
Without a word.
Aira flinched at the loss of warmth — even if Selene's body had never given it. She sat there, disoriented, flushed, her whole frame buzzing with tension that had no resolution.
Selene pulled on her coat with clinical calm, eyes flicking toward the cracked glass of the factory window. The sky had lightened more — still grey, still unforgiving, but the day had begun without asking if either of them was ready.
"I'll check the perimeter," she said flatly. "Get something to eat. You need food."
Aira sat there, blinking, lips parted, her hands limp in her lap. Still dazed.
Still aching.
"You're leaving me like this?" she asked before she could stop herself.
Selene turned in the doorway, one brow raised.
"Sweetheart," she said coolly. "You're the one who said you weren't ready."
Aira's cheeks flared crimson again.
Selene smiled.
Not mocking.
Predatory.
"Don't worry," she added, voice cold and honeyed. "That ache between your thighs? It'll get worse. Every time I don't touch you. Every time I let you sit there and imagine how I would."
And then she disappeared into the hall.
Aira sat in silence.
Still trembling. Still burning. Still utterly ruined — and craving the next storm.