Chapter 78: The Things We Carry
Morning came like a bruise — slow, dark - edged, and sore.
Aria woke to the scent of oxidized iron, old sweat, and something faintly sweet — milk powder, cracked open the day before from a forgotten supply closet. It clung to the air like a memory she didn't ask for, something too gentle for the world they now lived in. It didn't belong here, not in this skeletal ruin of a world, not in the aftermath of survival. But it lingered, stubborn and soft.
Her eyes blinked open slowly, lashes heavy with sleep, limbs aching like she'd fought in her dreams.
Maybe she had.
The blanket had slipped from her shoulder sometime in the night. She reached for it instinctively in the cold —
And found something else.
Not warmth.
Cold.
Selene.
Still there.
Still beside her.
Aria's breath caught in her throat, soft and shallow. Her fingers brushed against Selene's side — smooth skin, cool to the touch. Not like anyone else's body. Not warm like comfort, but sharp like winter, like breath hitting glass. Yet it wasn't the cold that made Aria shiver.
She stilled.
Selene's chest rose and fell slowly, evenly. Not asleep, then. Not really. Pretending, maybe. Watching, definitely.
The weight of Selene's arm was still across Aria's ribs. Not in protection. Not out of necessity.
Choice.
That realization sparked something low in Aria's belly she couldn't name — an ache, a knot of something sharp and intimate, like the first breath after submersion. It pulled tight, unfamiliar. Unwelcome. But also… not.
The space between them was almost nothing. And that felt dangerous. Like the edge of a blade pressing into skin but not yet drawing blood.
Selene didn't move.
Aria shifted just slightly, her thighs brushing together under the blanket, and suddenly there was discomfort there — tightness, heat. Not from warmth. The opposite. The cold from Selene's skin seemed to burrow under hers, pulling a response from places Aria didn't understand. The kind of cold that burned slowly, then demanded more.
Her face flushed. She pulled the blanket higher, though it didn't help.
Selene stirred then, slowly, as though waking on cue. Her eyes opened without surprise, no blink of confusion. Just those pale irises, glacial and knowing.
"You're awake," Selene murmured, voice low with sleep and something else — coiled restraint.
Aria nodded, heart thudding. "Didn't think I'd fall asleep."
"You needed it," Selene said, sitting up.
Her body moved with fluid ease, her shirt slipping just enough to expose the sharp line of her collarbone. Her skin gleamed like ice. Cold. But alluring. Aria's gaze lingered without meaning to. There was a hunger there, but it wasn't hers alone. It moved between them like a silent current.
Selene rose and crossed the room barefoot, retrieving her pack in silence. She drew a blade and sat at the windowsill, resting it across her thigh. Then came the whetstone. That steady rhythm began — metal on stone. A sound like breath. Like ritual. Something to hold onto.
Aria watched her.
The chill Selene left behind in the cot still lingered, haunting her skin. Her chest felt hollow, her limbs taut. Every time Selene moved, Aria's eyes followed. She didn't know why.
No, she did.
But she didn't want to name it.
"I had a dream," Aria said, rising slowly. Her feet hit the ground, and she padded barefoot across the room, the concrete cool and coarse beneath her toes.
The scrape of the blade paused. Selene didn't look up.
"It was the mall," Aria went on. "Before. The boutique. With those dressing rooms and the terrible pop music."
"I remember," Selene said softly.
"I was trying on dresses. I picked the green one. Embroidered neckline."
"You looked —" Selene stopped herself. "Beautiful."
Aria blinked.
"You never said that before."
Selene looked at her then, just briefly. "I think I did. Just not out loud."
There was a pause, taut and quiet.
"I remember you standing outside the dressing room," Aria said. "You watched me. Quiet. Just watched me."
"I wanted to touch you."
The words dropped like a coin in still water.
Aria's lips parted. "But you didn't."
"I didn't know if I could."
Her voice was quieter now, the edge gone. All that control held in the flex of her fingers, the pause in her blade.
Aria moved closer. The air between them changed. Stretched thin. Like something would snap if either of them breathed wrong.
"I wanted you to," Aria admitted.
Selene looked up. Her eyes pinned Aria in place — unblinking, quiet.
"Do you still?"
Aria swallowed. She wasn't sure if it was fear or need pressing at her throat.
"I don't know," she said honestly. "Sometimes I think I do. Then I get close and I… I can't think."
Selene's hand hovered midair. Not touching. Just close. She leaned in a little, but not enough.
"You think it's fear," Selene said, "but it's not."
Aria's breath stuttered. "Then what?"
"Craving," Selene murmured. "You just don't know it yet."
The chill in the room deepened. But Aria's skin flushed hot.
"I —" she took a step back, heart pounding, heat creeping up her throat. "I don't —"
Selene stood too. Close. Too close.
"You flush every time I'm near you," she said, voice dipped in danger and amusement. "Do you think I don't notice the way your body tenses? The way you shift your thighs under the blanket when you think I'm not looking?"
Aria's blush deepened. "I don't —"
"You ache, Aria," Selene said, barely a whisper now. "And it terrifies you."
Aria's breath hitched. Her knees nearly buckled.
Selene didn't move.
She didn't have to.
That cold presence — that unnatural coolness of her body — it pulled every ounce of heat to the surface. And under that was something Aria hadn't faced yet: the beginning of hunger. A discomfort she thought was just nerves. But now it pulsed between her thighs with the faintest throb, like a secret just now surfacing.
Selene tilted her head. Smiling, but not kindly.
"You think it's cold," she said. "But you're wrong."
Aria's voice shook. "Then what is it?"
"Need," Selene answered. "And I'll ruin you with it. Slowly."
The words slammed into her like a wave. Aria took another step back. She felt scorched and frozen at once. Lost in a body that wasn't hers anymore, craving something she didn't understand.
Selene let her retreat.
"You won't even realize you're begging until it's too late," Selene added, turning her back, casually picking up the blade again.
Aria stood frozen. Heart hammering. Skin hot. Her core aching in quiet, confused frustration.
Selene's blade sang again, back to its rhythmic sharpening. As if nothing had been said. As if the air didn't still crackle between them.
But Aria couldn't sit. Couldn't speak. Couldn't move for a long, long time.
And Selene didn't ask her to.
Later, when the sun had crested and the rotters stirred below, they packed in silence. Shoulder to shoulder. The space between them thick with everything unsaid.
The wind outside was sharp, dry. It tugged at their coats as they moved through the stairwell and back onto the street, the city still decaying around them in gold light. Crows wheeled overhead, crying like omens.
Selene led. Her presence was steady, precise. The blade she'd sharpened now strapped to her thigh, a quiet promise.
Aria followed. Quiet. Shaken. Flushed.
She carried no map. Only the echo of Selene's words, reverberating in her ribs.
Craving. Ache. Ruin.
And though she couldn't name it yet, her body had already started to want.