Page 25 of Frozen Obsession

He doesn’t even flinch. There’s no reaction—no empathy, no anger, no sign that he feels anything at all. He’s just…Roman. Detached. Indifferent.

Nothing ever seems to affect Roman fucking Delgado.

I’m burning alive, my body trembling with unbearable heat, yet he just places me down in the snow. The icy ground bites into my fevered skin, wrenching a sharp gasp from my throat, but he doesn’t flinch. His heart, his gaze—they’re as cold as the winter air that whips around us. Roman stands over me, watching, his green hazel eyes dark and unreadable, his face set in that unnerving calm, as though this is nothing more than an experiment. "This should help break the fever," he says, but I can't speak; my mouth begins to clatter from the cold or from the fever.Who knows.

I writhe in the snow, my body screaming for relief, every muscle spasming as I battle the inferno blazing inside me and the freezing cold pressing in from all sides. But Roman remains still, unmoving, not a flicker of emotion crossing his face. A statue of indifference, he watches in silence, his hands casually resting at his sides, as though this torment is nothing but a fleeting moment to be endured. "You're almost through the storm, little snake. Just a little more," he murmurs, his voice low and steady, the words slicing through my haze like ice.

The cold creeps deeper, stealing what little breath I have left, sinking into my bones, wrapping itself around my heart. Slowly—agonizingly—the fire within me begins to fade. My skin cools first, the burning heat ebbing into an unbearable numbness, like my body is shutting down piece by piece. The fog lifts just enough for my thoughts to sharpen, my mind breaking free from the delirium that had gripped me. I should feel relieved, but all I can focus on is Roman—still watching, still waiting, his dark eyes locked on me, as if he’s waiting for something to crack, something inside me to give in.

And somehow, even now, in this agony, there’s a twisted comfort in knowing he’s still here. Not gone. Not abandoned.

"I hate you," I whisper, my voice raw and hoarse from screaming, every syllable drenched in the bitterness I’ve carried for years.

"No, you don’t," Roman replies calmly, his tone as matter-of-fact as if he were stating the weather. "You need me." His words cut through the cold like a knife, and I know, deep down, he’s right. And that’s what terrifies me the most. I do need him—need him to keep me from crumbling, to hold me together when everything inside me is threatening to shatter. But I hate him for it. Hate him for making me so damn dependent on him, for making me crave him for the last ten years, even as I loathe myself for it.

"Fuck…yo–u," I stutter, my teeth clattering in the biting cold as I struggle to keep the tears at bay. My body is trembling, not just from the weather but from the sheer force of holding myself together in his presence. I take a shaky breath and look at him—really look at him—and for a split second, I see it. His eyebrows are furrowed, his jaw tight, and if I didn’t know him better, I might even thinkhe looks worried.

"I need to break that fever," he says, kneeling in front of me, his hands rough but gentle as he uses his legs to spread mine apart. My arms are still bound behind my back, the ropes cutting into my skin, making me feel like a Christmas decoration—his twisted little ornament. "Just focus on me… on the pleasure. Okay?"

If I weren’t feeling so utterly wrecked, I might’ve laughed at the absurdity of it. But right now? Right now, I feel like shit. I don’t want pleasure; I want a fix—anything to numb the chaos inside. But then… his head dips, and his lips brush against the slit of my folds, and despite myself, I shudder.

I gasp, my body arching involuntarily, heat pooling where his mouth explores, and for a brief moment, I forget how much I hate him. His eyes meet mine, inscrutable, and the cold wind whips around us, swirling snowflakes like a reminder that we’re still out here, in the middle of nowhere. But all I can focus on is the way his touch makes me burn in a whole new way.

"Trust me," he whispers, so softly I barely hear it over the wind. I shake my head, trying to fight the sob rising in my throat, but then his lips graze mine, and suddenly, I don’t know if I can keep fighting anymore. Slowly, he pushes into me. It’s not rough or demanding like I expected, but soft… tender… so unlike him. He moves like he’s handling something fragile, like I’m something fragile.

"You’ve been doing great, Xena," he murmurs, his breath warm against my cheek. "The need will go away… but I’m here, baby. I’ll hold you together."

"I hate you," I try to say again, but the words come out as nothing more than a whisper, weak and hollow. And he knows. He knows the fight is leaving me. Instead of reacting, he pulls me in closer, capturing my lips with his.

He kisses me like we’re the only two people in existence, like the world has shrunk down to just us. And for a brief, fleeting moment, I forget everything—the cold, the pain, the gnawing hunger of withdrawal. All of it fades into the background, leaving just us. He pulls out slowly, his body dragging against mine, every inch a slow, agonizing tease, a promise that he’ll return. His lipsnever leave mine, and somehow, they anchor me through the storm of emotions swirling inside me, keeping me grounded as I teeter on the edge of losing myself.

I don’t want to need him… but right now, he’s the only thing keeping me from falling apart.

"I hate you," I echo, my voice laced with agony as my body trembles beneath him. His response is a soft sigh against my lips. "Liar," he breathes.

He thrusts back into me, deeper this time, and I can’t stifle the scream that rips from my throat.

"I hate… I hate…" The words dissolve into gasps as he continues his slow torment. God, it’s so good that it makes me forget the pain… the cold snow biting into my skin.

"You can hate me all you want, Xena," he says, breaking away from our kiss to rest his forehead against mine. His breath is warm against my skin in the freezing air. "I’m not going anywhere." His eyes, usually so guarded, are raw with emotion, allowing me to see the real him for once.

"I hate you," I rasp out again, but the words no longer hold the venom they once did. His lips claim mine once more, swallowing my protest as his body maintains its steady rhythm.

"I know," he murmurs against my mouth, and there’s an aching sadness in his voice that makes me cling to him. I love him. I love him so much that I’ll endure this pain and sickness just to come back to him, because that’s who we are at our core. Our climax comes together; I clench around him, my moans and whimpers muffled against his mouth. A tear slips from my eye, trailing a cold path down my heated cheek.

"I hate…" I start, but he cuts me off with a stern gaze that chokes my words.

"No more," he says firmly, holding me close as my fever finally starts to break. "No more, Xena," he repeats gently, as he begins to untie me, picking me up and carrying me back inside the cabin. I’m shivering uncontrollably, my skin red and raw from the cold, but he wraps me in a blanket, his touch surprisinglytender.

"You’ll get through this," he murmurs, his lips brushing against my temple. "And when you do, you’ll thank me."

I don’t respond, too exhausted to argue. He lays me down on the bed, tucking me in before lying beside me. I hate how safe I feel in his arms, how comforting his presence is, but I’m too tired to fight it.

As I drift off to sleep, I wonder how much longer I can endure this, how much more I can take before I break completely. But deep down, I know the answer. As long as he’s here, I’ll keep going. Because I have no choice.

I’m his. Completely and utterly his.

Chapter Fifteen

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