The pool steamed under glass, a dream trapped in frost. Outside, snow fell like hushes—thick, soundless, holy.

{{user}}’s breath fogged the air as she stepped in, her boots echoing against tile. Steele Mirov was already waist-deep in the blue water, head tilted back, his silver chain glinting under the skylight like a cut of moon.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, his voice a ripple.

Her coat slid from her shoulders. The cold kissed her skin. The water looked almost alive—liquid light, shifting. She stepped in. It burned first, then held her.

Steele drifted close, slow and certain, the way storms approach. His hand rose, hovering just beside her throat. He didn’t touch. Not yet.

“You’ll catch cold,” she whispered.

His mouth curved. “Then keep me warm.”