Page 34 of Frozen Obsession

I inhale deeply, taking in her scent. "Not enough. With the storm coming and Christmas Eve only days away, I would rather we stay in."

She shrugs, mumbling something I can’t quite catch before turning back to me. "I can go with you."

I shake my head. There’s no way she’s going into town. Not with her boss still looking for her, not with that goon still hanging around. It’s just not safe. At least here,she’s home. She’s safe.

"No. I’ll go," I say, heading toward the kitchen table to grab the keys.

Surprisingly, she doesn’t argue, which throws me off. It makes me wonder if I should even be leaving at all.

"I’m going to get dressed and head out. Cedarworld will be closing by midnight," I say, glancing at the clock. It’s already a quarter to nine.

She nods, turning back to the window. Something isn’t right. I feel it, but I push the thought aside. No one’s going to come here. I’m sure of it.

Once I’m ready, I head back downstairs, finding Xena curled up on the couch watching one of her murder shows.

"Heading out now. Want anything?" I ask.

She yawns and shakes her head.

I nod and walk to the door, the uneasy feeling creeping back in as I step outside. Climbing into the truck, I start the engine and make my way into town.

Chapter Nineteen

Xena

"It was later determined the wife, Lorna McKnight, was the culprit. There was never any robbery," the TV narrator drones as a picture of what seems like a normal couple flashes across the screen. From the couch, I can see the snow outside has picked up, swirling in heavier gusts. Something tugs in my stomach like a warning, a subtle twist that makes me feel like something bad is about to happen. But it can’t be, right? It’s probably just my anxiety kicking in—without the pills, I’m a walking mess of emotions.

"During the trial, she was found guilty of first-degree murder of her husband, Taylor McKnight, and sentenced to life in prison," the narrator continues, but my attention shifts back to the window. A chill runs down my spine. The feeling of being watched gnaws at me, though it makes no sense. The cabin is deep in the woods, off the beaten path. No one comes out this way after dark unless they’re delivering drugs, and the only two whoever did that are dead now. I highly doubt anyone’s coming for the town’s scum.

Still, I can’t focus on anything but the window, this sinking feeling in my gut refusing to go away. I grab the remote, turning off the TV and putting on the music player instead. Funny howNo Time to Dieby Billie Eilish starts playing. My eyes widen, and my hands start to tremble as I sit up from the couch.Roman,I think, panic gripping me. Something must have happened to him. My heart pounds so hard it feels like it’s trying to escape my chest.I’m losingit. I’m alone.

"Fuck this," I mutter, getting up and tearing through my stash spots like a madwoman. Too many emotions, too much racing through my head. Roman’s been gone for so long, and now this fucking feeling won’t leave. Something’s wrong, but I can’t pin down what it is. Maybe I just need another hit…NO,I think, shaking my head.

"NO!" I say aloud, sliding down the wall, my voice cracking. "He shouldn’t have left me alone. How stupid… he’s gone." I repeat it over and over, the words unraveling me until tears well up, spilling over as I sob into my hands. The panic inside me is unbearable, every breath I try to take makes me feel like I’m suffocating, drowning in my own anxiety.

"Get it the fuck together," I growl, slapping my hands against my face. My head falls back to rest on the wall as I breathe raggedly, my eyes finding the family portrait hanging nearby—our last Christmas photo. Everyone was smiling, even Roman. Warmth spreads through me as I fixate on that memory, on how Roman had fingered me while we waited for our parents to finish taking pictures. He just wanted to taste me on his fingers.

The corner of my mouth twitches into a small smile, and I slowly rise from the floor.I just need a bath. Yeah, that’ll fix this.

Walking to the bathroom, I turn on the hot water, adding essential oils and Epsom salts while I wait for the tub to fill. The warm steam rises, and the scent of lavender starts to calm my racing heart. Having Roman back has made me so dependent on him it makes me sick—physically sick when I’m away from him. But I like it, this twisted need. He’s more than an obsession; he’smine.My frozen obsession has thawed with his return, turning into something far darker.

A smirk plays across my lips as I dip a hand into the water, feeling the soothing heat. I make a mental note to find a word stronger thanobsessionbecause I’ve long since passed that point. I’m terminally ill, infected by this stupid little heart of mine.

Slipping off my black batman nightgown and tossing it to the floor, I ease into the hot bath, the water immediately soothing my aching body. I sink deeper, resting my head on the cool porcelain edge, not the most comfortable position,but it’ll do.

"Cyrus, play music," I command softly, closing my eyes.Nothing’s Gonna Hurt You Babyby Cigarettes After Sex begins to play, the soft, lulling voice washing over me. The gentle melody wraps around my senses, pulling me toward tranquility.

For the first time in so long… I feel safe. He’s back and I'm sober. Everything is right at this moment.

Closing my eyes, I think back to our first Christmas together.

My arms wrapped around his neck, pressed up against the wall as he devoured my mouth. I grind my exposed pussy against his chest, desperate for more of him. "Take it," I breathe into his lips, my voice barely a whisper. "Merry Christmas, big brother." He groans into my mouth, his tongue swirling and twirling with mine, tasting like weed and whiskey—the two things his dad had always told him to stay away from.

Suddenly, he pulls away, resting his forehead against mine, his breath ragged. "You have to get out of my room, Xena," Roman says, his voice tight with restraint.

"No, I won’t," I say, defiant, my lips brushing against his as I speak. "Not until you take the gift, I’m offering you. Make me yours." I grind against him harder, my wetness soaking into his skin, the need clawing at my insides. He groans again, his eyes falling on my lips as I pout, trying to drive him wild. I know what I’m doing to him. I can feel how much he wants me.

"Stop it," he growls, his voice strained. "You’re my sister." His words cut, but I refuse to back down, even as tears well up in my eyes, blurring my vision of his perfect face.

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