The church doors had barely closed behind them when the storm inside Irina finally broke.
Adrian's hand was tight around hers as he pulled her through the snow, his warm grip the only thing keeping her upright. Behind them, the old church still echoed with the aftermath of the rite — shattered lanterns, cracked stone, the faint scent of burned rowan ash and holy water. Father Nikolai's voice had faded into exhausted silence, the elders murmuring prayers over the lingering frost. Erwin's pained form had vanished into swirling silver mist the moment the circle shattered, but his eyes — those icy-clear eyes filled with five years of love and suffering — stayed burned into Irina's memory.
She stumbled in the snow, tears freezing on her lashes before melting against the conflicting temperatures inside her. "He was hurting, Adrian," she whispered, voice cracking. "He was *hurting*. I saw it in his eyes. He let me go five years ago and they're punishing him for it. I can't… I can't just pretend I didn't see that."
Adrian stopped, turning to face her in the middle of the empty square. His dark eyes were raw with pain, love, and the quiet fear he had carried since the first frozen body appeared. He cupped her cold face with warm palms, thumbs brushing away the frozen tears.
"I know," he said, voice rough and breaking. "I saw it too. But he's not the one who's been freezing people in their own homes. The deaths are still happening. The town is still dying. I'm trying to protect you, Irina. I'm trying to protect the life we built. Please… don't go back to him."
The kiss he gave her was desperate and emotional — his mouth claiming hers with raw hunger and fear, tongue stroking deep as though he could erase every trace of winter from her tongue. Irina sobbed into the kiss, fingers clutching his coat, guilt and love twisting together until she could barely breathe. His warm hands slid beneath her coat, cupping her breasts with tender urgency, thumbs circling her nipples in the way he knew she loved, trying to remind her with every touch why she had chosen him.
But the silver shimmer on her skin only glowed brighter.
That night, after Adrian had finally fallen into exhausted sleep, the whisper came on the wind.
*"Come to me, little flame. One last time. Before everything ends."*
Irina slipped out of the house without waking him.
Erwin was waiting at the edge of the frozen river, luminous and ethereal, white hair drifting like fresh snow. His icy-clear eyes held five years of suffering and love as he opened his arms. She went to him without a word. He swept her up and carried her across the ice, through the veil, and into a hidden sanctuary deep within the wild white — a smaller, more intimate version of the palace, carved from starlit ice and shadow, where no one else could reach them.
Snow fell softly from a ceiling that seemed to touch the stars. Ice sculptures of their bodies floated in the air around them, moving slowly in the same rhythm they would soon share. Erwin laid her on a throne of pure snow, his cold hands trembling as they undressed her with aching reverence.
"Five years," he growled, voice rough with pain and raw hunger. "Five years I watched you in his arms. Five years I faded a little more each night because I let you go. I suffered for you, Irina. I would suffer a thousand lifetimes more if it meant one more night with you."
He pinned her down on the throne, cold hands shoving her thighs wide apart as he descended on her like a starving man. His mouth attacked her breasts with savage need — sucking hard on one nipple, teeth grazing the sensitive peak while his icy fingers pinched and twisted the other until she screamed. Frost exploded across her skin, glowing silver-blue runes blooming wildly, pulsing and spreading as the snow around them turned into a frenzied blizzard.
"You're mine," he snarled against her breast, tongue flicking brutally fast over her nipple while his hand slid down to shove two thick, icy fingers deep inside her without warning. "This pussy still clenches for winter. Still drips for me even after five years of his pathetic heat."
Irina screamed, back arching violently off the throne as he finger-fucked her hard and fast, curling his fingers against that perfect spot while his mouth devoured her breasts — sucking, biting, marking her skin with glowing frost bites that burned with pleasure-pain. Snow whipped around them in a violent storm, each flake reacting to her moans, forming lewd, floating sculptures of his cock thrusting into her, of her face twisted in ecstasy.
He didn't let her come.
He pulled his fingers out just as she was about to shatter, leaving her sobbing and empty. In one brutal motion he flipped her onto her stomach on the throne, yanking her hips up so she was on her knees, ass high in the air.
"Beg for it," he commanded, voice dark and feral. His huge, icy cock slapped heavy against her soaked folds. "Beg for the cold you've been craving behind your husband's back."
"Please," Irina sobbed, pushing back desperately, shame and lust destroying her. "Please, Erwin — fuck me. I need you. I need your cold. Please—"
He slammed into her in one savage thrust — burying every thick inch to the hilt, stretching her brutally wide. Irina screamed, the sound echoing through the sanctuary as he immediately started pounding her with merciless force. The throne shook. Ice cracked beneath them. His balls slapped wetly against her clit with every brutal thrust while his cold hands gripped her hips hard enough to leave glowing frost bruises.
"Take it," he growled, voice breaking with five years of pent-up obsession. "Take every inch of the cock you betrayed your husband for." He reached around and pinched her clit hard, rolling it between icy fingers while he fucked her even deeper, the head of his cock battering her cervix. Frost exploded inside her with every thrust — icy crystals forming and melting deep in her pussy, driving her insane with overstimulation.
Irina came violently — screaming, squirting around his cock, walls clamping down like a vice as her entire body convulsed. Erwin didn't stop. He fucked her through it, harder, faster, snarling filthy praise against her ear.
"Good girl. Milk my cock. Show me how much you've missed winter while you were spreading your legs for that pathetic mortal."
He pulled out only to flip her onto her back again, throwing her legs over his shoulders and folding her in half. He drove back inside her in one brutal stroke, pounding so deep she saw stars. His mouth attacked her breasts again — sucking her nipples raw while he fucked her with punishing force, the throne creaking dangerously beneath them.
"Come again," he demanded, biting down on her nipple hard enough to make her scream. "Come on my cock like the desperate little winter whore you are."
Irina shattered again and again — harder, louder, squirting messily around him as her vision whited out. Erwin roared, burying himself to the hilt and flooding her with pulse after pulse of icy cum, frost blooming deep inside her womb like a final, claiming seal.
He collapsed over her, still buried deep, breathing hard against her neck.
"Your mine ," he whispered, voice breaking with raw vulnerability. "You must choose me before I fade into nothing without you ."
Irina clung to him, tears flowing freely, overwhelmed by love, guilt, pain and the most intense pleasure she had ever known. She almost stayed — almost let the palace claim her forever.
But the memory of Adrian's desperate, loving eyes flashed through her mind.
She kissed Erwin — weak, soft, heartbroken — and whispered against his lips, "I have to go."
Erwin felt pain from her words.
Irina's legs refused to work. The intense, brutal sex had left her trembling and weak, thighs shaking so badly she could barely stand.
Erwin noticed immediately. Without a word, he lifted her gently into his arms, cradling her against his luminous chest like something infinitely precious. He carried her out of the sanctuary, across the frozen river, and through the blizzard until they reached the edge of the town.
He set her down carefully just outside the Volkov house, his cold hands lingering on her waist for one final moment.
"Until you call for me again," he whispered, voice tender and pained.
Then he faded into swirling silver snow, leaving her standing on unsteady legs in the ordinary darkness.
Adrian would be waiting.
And Irina no longer knew how much longer she could keep choosing warmth when winter kept calling her home.
To be continued....