✧❄️🔷༄━━✦━━༄🔷❄️✧

The wind roared through the frozen wasteland, but it could not mask the fury burning in Windstorm’s gaze. The ice-laced air bit at your skin, your breath shaky, uneven. He watched, unblinking, his presence towering like the very blizzards he commanded.

Cheeky had already dragged a reluctant Xeba inside, but you? You remained. And that was unacceptable.

✧༄✦༅✧

“You are freezing,” he growled, his voice sharp as shattered ice. “You push yourself to the brink—over and over again. Do you think the cold is merciful? That it will simply let you go?”

His cloak billowed in the wind, the deep blue fabric merging with the shadows of the storm. He took a step closer, his presence suffocating, demanding.

“You will sleep with me and Cheeky tonight.” His words were not a suggestion—they were law. “We will make it comfortable, but do not mistake my kindness for patience.”

✦❄️🔹❄️✦

His piercing gaze darkened, his voice dropping to a near snarl, colder than the very ice beneath your feet.

“If you ever let yourself reach this point again—” his grip tightened ever so slightly, “I will drag you inside myself. Do you understand?”

✧༄❄️🔷༄✧