My eyes drifted to her shoulder, pale as untouched snow, smooth enough to look unreal. The faint glow from the chamber slid across her skin and made it sparkle gently, like fresh frost catching the sunrise. For a moment, I forgot the cold, forgot the danger, forgot that this was a life-or-death situation.

She was beautiful. Not the normal, casual kind of pretty I sometimes acknowledged in passing. This was the kind that made my breath stumble before I could stop it.

My heart beat too loudly, too fast. It echoed inside my ears as I stared. Something tightened inside me, something warm and shaky that I did not recognize. It made me want to reach for her gently instead of urgently. It made me want to hold her instead of waking her. It made me want… something I had no right wanting.

Why am I thinking this? Why now?

I pushed the thoughts away, forcing them behind the cracked barrier of self-control I still had. These feelings, whatever they were, did not make sense. A woman should not feel this for another woman. That was the rule, right? That was how the world worked. That was what people said.

Yet my eyes kept returning to her face. To her lips. To the soft curve of her neck.

My thoughts tangled until they were nothing but a quiet mess whispering inside my skull. I should not want this. I should not think this. It was wrong. It had to be wrong. But why did the wrong feel so dangerously easy to fall into?

She was too pretty. Too gentle-looking. Too perfect in this strange, frozen light.

And all I wanted was to pull her closer.

I swallowed hard, trying to steady myself. None of this mattered right now. This was not the time to unravel. Her life might be slipping away. That was the only thing that mattered. I needed to wake her. I needed to bring her back.

My fangs sharpened, a familiar ache rolling through my jaw as the hunger inside me stirred.

I leaned closer, aiming for the spot where I had bitten her before. The faint crescent marks still barely clung to her skin. Seeing them again made something flutter inside my chest, something between fear and anticipation. My lips brushed her shoulder softly at first, and the sudden cold snapped through me. It froze my breath, but I did not pull away.

Then I bit. Her skin broke beneath my fangs, and her golden blood rushed onto my tongue. The taste made my entire body jolt: It was sweet, warm, pure. Like touching sunlight with a bare hand.

The world spun. My heart felt like it tried to escape my chest. My mind buzzed, drowning in sensation. The taste of her was too much. Too good. Too addictive. If anyone asked me to stop, I would struggle. If someone told me this was wrong, I would not believe them anymore.

I felt myself leaning in closer, almost wanting to press my forehead against her neck, almost wanting to feel her warmth even though she was frozen cold. My fingers trembled as they brushed her arm. Her scent, faint and icy, wrapped around me until all my thoughts blurred into one overwhelming truth: I liked this. I liked this way too much.

If I ever had to give up her blood, I would suffer like an addict forced into withdrawal. The idea of not tasting her again hurt in a way I did not understand.

But I kept drinking, hoping this would wake her. Hoping this would pull her back. Hoping she would open her eyes and look at me again. Even if she never knew how fast she made my heart beat.

And though my idea was reckless and selfish and only fed my own growing hunger, each swallow made my power surge through every vein. Her ice weakened with every pull of blood, the force that tried to push me away and seal me out slipping slowly from her grasp. It was enough. I could feel her returning. Her eyelashes trembled softly. She was waking.

Enough... Pull away... She is awake... But I did not.

Her golden eyes opened, staring straight at me with a warmth that did not match this frozen world. A smile touched her lips, soft and gentle, like a quiet sunrise. She looked at me as if she knew me better than I knew myself, as if the sight of me drinking from her did not frighten her. As if she welcomed it.

And that made it worse.

I could not stop. My fangs refused to let go. I wanted to drink her dry, even knowing what it would do, even knowing it could kill her. I wanted her more than a friend. I wanted her in a way that terrified me, in a way that made my heart pound faster than the frost could freeze it. I wanted to keep her forever, and at the same time, some part of me wanted to destroy her, to claim her entirely, to taste everything she was made of.

Ahhh… I am insane. I love her blood more than anything this world can offer. My sweet and perfect drug.

My fingers moved without thought, brushing over her skin, trailing to places they should not have wandered. Her breath shivered against my cheek, and something inside me responded with a heat that had nothing to do with fire. It was forbidden. It was dangerous. It felt so good that it made my mind blur at the edges.

And then everything went blank.

I could not say how long we stayed like that, tangled in frost and secrets. I only remembered the sensation: Her warmth, and soft sounds that slipped from our lips before we could stop them, words neither of us should have said in that frozen chamber. They lingered in the air like steam rising from snow. They belonged to no one else but us, sealed inside the cold by her frost, locked away where no memory could be stolen.

After that, it was all blurry.

I woke in her arms, the two of us lying on the frozen ground, bodies close, holding each other as if the world outside no longer mattered. Her breath brushed my forehead. My fingers were curled against her waist. The chamber was quiet. Completely silent. Only our soft embrace remained.

Everything else was gone and buried in the frost.

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