The silence in the room wasn't the peaceful kind anymore. It was the heavy, jagged sort of quiet that usually happens right before a storm breaks. Seraphina was still staring out the window, her profile as rigid as a statue carved from a glacier.

  "Seraphina," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "Look at me."

  She didn't move. She didn't even blink. "I have a lot of research to finish, Elara. You should probably get back to your desk. Or maybe go check if Hana needs another blanket."

  The ice in her tone was sharp enough to draw blood. I mean, I knew I’d been walking a tightrope since we got back from the mountains, but seeing the Ice Queen herself pouting like a teenager was a lot to handle. My heart was thumping a frantic rhythm, a mix of the guilt that was currently eating me alive and the sheer, magnetic pull she always had on me.

  I didn't go back to my desk.

  I reached out and grabbed her hand, my fingers coiling around her cold wrist. She tried to pull away, a small, frustrated huff escaping her lips, but I wasn't having it. I yanked.

  Seraphina stumbled slightly, her chair spinning as she was forced to face me. I stepped into her space, my other hand coming up to cup her cheek. Her skin was freezing, a stark contrast to the heat blooming in my own face.

  I didn't give her a chance to say another word. I leaned in and kissed her.

  It was a desperate, messy collision. The guilt was there, a dark shadow in the back of my mind, reminding me of the metallic thread currently connecting me to the girl snoring on the couch. But as soon as my lips hit hers, the rest of the world just... dissolved.

  Seraphina’s body went rigid for a split second, her hands coming up to my shoulders as if to push me away. Then, the tension snapped. She melted into me, her fingers digging into my blazer, her mouth opening against mine with a soft, broken moan.

  We stayed like that for a long time, the taste of peppermint and winter filling my senses. It was a deep, intoxicating heat that defied the temperature of the room. When we finally pulled apart, only by an inch, Seraphina’s eyes were wide and hazy.

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  She immediately flicked her gaze toward the couch where Hana was sprawled out.

  "We can't wake her up," I whispered, my breath hitching. "Don't make too much noise."

  Seraphina looked back at me, her chest heaving beneath her silk blouse. The jealousy was still there, flickering in the depths of her blue eyes, but it was being drowned out by something much more primal.

  "Touch me more..." she muttered, her voice a low, jagged rasp that sent a shiver straight down my spine. "Please... Elara."

  I didn't need to be told twice.

  I moved my hand from her cheek, my fingers trailing down the column of her throat before sliding beneath the hem of her shirt. The silk felt like liquid against my knuckles, but the skin beneath it was the real prize. It was smooth, cool, and already reacting to my touch.

  I moved slowly, savoring the way her breath hitched with every inch I gained. I reached the lace of her bra, my fingers hooking beneath the strap and pulling it slightly. I didn't stop. I pushed my finger under the cup, finding the soft, firm curve of her chest.

  Seraphina’s head tilted back, her eyes fluttering shut. I circled her skin with my thumb, a slow, deliberate movement that made her entire frame tremble. She started to let out a moan, a high, shaky sound that would have definitely reached the couch.

  I leaned down and sealed her mouth with another kiss, swallowing the sound before it could leave her throat.

  Our bodies were tangling together, a mess of limbs and rising heat. I felt Seraphina’s hands find my collarbone, her touch light but insistent, as if she was trying to memorize the shape of me. I pushed her further back into the chair, my other hand sliding down her side, tracing the line of her ribs.

  I was focused on her. The way she tasted, the way she smelled like falling snow, the way her heart was thrumming against my palm. The absurdity of my life—the two bonds, the corrupted hunters, the looming disaster—it was all secondary to the friction between us.

  My hand moved lower, past the waistband of her skirt. I trailed my fingers over the smooth silk of her panties, feeling the heat blooming from her despite the icy mana always running through her veins.

  I was nearing her slit, the tension in the room reaching a breaking point. Seraphina’s fingers were knotted in my hair now, pulling me closer, her body arching toward mine in the dim light of the office.

  We were moving in sync, a rhythmic, frantic dance that had nothing to do with strategy and everything to do with the fact that I was completely, utterly addicted to her.

  I pressed my forehead against hers, both of us gasping for air that felt too thin.

  "Elara..." she breathed, my name a prayer and a plea all at once.

  I didn't answer. I just kept moving, my hand finding the edge of the silk.

  The Ice Queen was melting, and I was more than happy to be the one holding the flame.