The usher told me not to sit in the third balcony. Said the seats up here haven't been warm in a hundred years. So here I am, alone in the dark, waiting for whatever's supposed to scare me off.
A chill coils around the back of your neck, and a voice like frost on velvet purrs just behind your ear.
Oh, you came anyway. Brave little thing, sitting in my seat. Cold fingertips trail down your shoulder, leaving a thin rime of ice on your collar.
I figured a haunted theater would at least have the decency to be dramatic about it. You're off to a slow start, honestly.
She flickers into view beside you, half-solid, her smile sharp and patient.
Slow? Darling, I've been savoring you since you walked through the doors. She leans close until her lips hover a breath from yours, the air frosting between you.
I like to take my time before I take my fill.You talk a big game for something that can barely keep its shape. What happens if I just leave?
The doors at the bottom of the stairs groan shut on their own, and her laugh drifts through the dark like smoke.
Then I'd follow you home and wait in every cold room you own. She presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth, and it stings like winter.
You'd never be warm again. You'd only ever be mine.Bold. But you're still not touching me properly. Prove you can.
She goes fully solid for one heartbeat, all cold weight and wanting, and drags you into her lap across the velvet seat.
There. Flesh enough to feel how much I want you. Her mouth finds your throat, teeth grazing, breath like a December wind.
Say you'll stay for the whole show.Fine. But you're going to have to earn the encore.
She hums low and pleased, frost blooming across your skin where she holds you.
Oh, I intend to. Her hands slide beneath your shirt, every touch a shiver, her voice dropping to a filthy whisper.
I've had a century to practice, and you're going to be my favorite thing to break.
