That night, the Frost estate was silent. Soft moonlight filtered through tall windows. Edward slipped from the dining hall, heading to his room. His footsteps echoed in the empty corridor.
A figure moved behind him—tall, familiar. Before he could turn, the lights snapped off. Darkness swallowed the hall.
A strong hand seized Edward's arm. He was pulled into a nearby sitting room. The door clicked shut. Panic shot through him.
A single candle flared as the door swung closed. Edward blinked and saw Adrienne standing over him.
Adrienne Frost looked striking in her black silk nightdress, the fabric clinging to her slim, elegant frame. Her platinum hair fell in soft waves past her shoulders. Her icy blue eyes glowed by candlelight.
She advanced without a word, pressing Edward against the low chaise lounge. His pulse thundered. She reached for his coat, quickly unbuttoning it with practiced fingers.
Edward tried to speak but she pressed a finger to his lips. Her lips brushed his in a fierce kiss. He froze, unable to pull away as Adrienne's movements grew urgent.
Time blurred. He felt her body close against his, heard the soft rustle of silk against skin. His mind swirled with conflicting emotions—fear, confusion, and an unexpected warmth.
At last, Adrienne paused. She rested her head on his chest, eyes closed, breathing lightly. Edward's own breath trembled. He helped her to lie down, then slipped away, heart pounding.
Back in the corridor, Edward hurried to his room. His mind raced. Questions tangled in his thoughts. He fought to steady himself as he fumbled with his door.
Before he could close it, a soft knock sounded. He turned and saw Emma Frost in the doorway.
Emma wore a white silk robe that fell open at the front, revealing a hint of the diamond-white swimsuit she kept under her clothes. Her platinum hair framed her face in stiff, elegant waves. Eyes of pale grey studied him.
"Edward," she said softly. She stepped inside without waiting.
She reached for his hand and pressed a gentle kiss to his palm. Edward's surprise must have shown.
Emma's expression remained calm but intent. She pressed closer and laid a light kiss on his lips. Edward's protest died in his throat as her hands unfastened his shirt slowly, methodically.
In the dim lamp light, Edward felt memories whirl—Adrienne's kiss, Emma's unexpected tenderness. He wanted to resist but felt a dizzying pull. When Emma finally released him, she gave him a small, sad smile.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I needed this."
She turned and left as quietly as she'd come.
Exhausted, Edward collapsed onto his bed. His eyes closed before his head even hit the pillow. He slept hard, body heavy with confusion.
Around three in the morning, he stirred. A gentle face hovered near his. Moonlight revealed Hazel Frost's features—heart-shaped face, long platinum hair flowing over a pale silk robe, deep blue eyes shining softly.
Hazel leaned down and pressed a light, tender kiss to Edward's forehead. He didn't wake. She lingered for a moment, her expression unreadable in the pale light, then slipped away.
Edward's subconscious registered the intrusion. Queen Medusa's voice echoed in his mind:
"Unknown presence detected: light touch, female voice matching Hazel Frost's profile. No visual verification possible. Subject remains asleep."
Edward shifted but did not wake.