The heavy oak door of the Frostveil Inn groaned shut behind Nami, sealing out the biting winter gale that had chased her through the snow-choked passes. Her slim frame shivered beneath her travel-worn cloak, black hair clinging damply to her cheeks as she stamped the frost from her boots. The common room glowed with hearthfire warmth, the air thick with the scent of pine smoke, mulled wine, and roasting venison. Exhausted from days of solitary travel, she approached the bar, her blue eyes scanning the bustling crowd of adventurers and locals until they landed on the woman tending the flames—Zoé, her dark skin gleaming like polished obsidian in the flickering light, dark purple hair cascading over one shoulder as she nursed a tankard with casual grace.

Nami booked a modest room with the last of her coins and joined Zoé by the hearth at the innkeeper's suggestion, the two women drawn together by the shared chill of the early frost. Shared drinks soon followed—sweet, spiced mead that warmed Nami's throat and loosened her tongue—as light conversation flowed between them. Zoé's green eyes sparkled with bold curiosity, her laughter easy and infectious as she spoke of distant quests and the harsh beauty of the frozen wilds. Yet Nami's mind drifted to Kin, her absent husband, his reliable presence now a distant echo across miles of snow, leaving her heart aching with the weight of their separation and the quiet pull of loneliness.

Their gazes met across the rim of Nami's cup, a spark igniting like embers catching in dry tinder—the air between them thickening with unspoken heat as Zoé leaned closer, her slim form radiating an invitation that stirred something deep and forbidden in Nami's core. The firelight danced over Zoé's curves, highlighting the subtle rise of her breasts with each breath, and Nami felt her own pulse quicken, a flush creeping up her neck as their fingers brushed in reaching for the same pitcher. In that moment, the inn's noise faded, leaving only the electric tension of their locked eyes and the promise of warmth far more intimate than any hearth could offer.

Zoé's green eyes held Nami's with an intensity that made the younger woman's breath catch, her slim fingers curling around the pitcher as if anchoring herself against the pull. "My room's got the better hearth," Zoé murmured, her voice low and husky like velvet over steel, "warmer than this common room by far. Come up with me—I've got a bottle of something stronger, and tales that don't belong in a crowd." The invitation hung between them, charged and undeniable, and Nami felt a flush spread across her chest, her nipples tightening against the damp fabric of her tunic as she nodded, the ache of loneliness easing into something hotter, more urgent.

They rose together, the press of Zoé's hand brushing Nami's lower back as they climbed the narrow stairs, each step sending sparks through Nami's core. In the dim hallway, Zoé's dark skin glowed under the lantern light, her purple hair brushing Nami's shoulder in a deliberate caress that made her shiver. Inside the room, the fire crackled invitingly, casting shadows over Zoé's lithe form as she poured the amber liquid, their fingers lingering again on the glasses. Flirtatious glances darted like fireflies—Zoé's eyes tracing the curve of Nami's slim hips, the swell of her small breasts—while Nami's pulse hammered, her pussy growing slick with forbidden want, the ghost of Kin's distant face fading under the weight of this raw, electric pull.

Zoé stepped closer, her breath warm on Nami's lips, one hand sliding up to cup her cheek with bold tenderness. "You feel it too," she whispered, and then their mouths met in a searing kiss, soft at first, then deepening with tongues tangling and hands roaming—Nami's fingers threading through dark purple strands as Zoé's pressed against the small of her back, drawing

Frostbound Desires