The Thorn in His Touch

 The library was silent, save for the steady patter of rain against the windows. Soft candlelight flickered along the towering shelves, casting golden shadows that stretched and shrank like restless spirits.

Selene knew she wasn’t supposed to be here.

Yet, she was never one to follow rules.

Her fingers hovered over the spine of an old leather-bound book when she felt it—an undeniable presence, the air shifting, thickening with something unseen yet felt deep in her bones.

“You enjoy testing limits, don’t you?”

The voice sent a shiver down her spine, deep and smooth, like velvet wrapping around steel. She didn’t turn, didn’t have to. She already knew who it was.

“I wasn’t aware the library belonged to you,” she murmured, feigning nonchalance.

A low chuckle. “Everything here belongs to me, Selene. Including you.”

Her breath caught as he moved closer, the heat of him brushing against her back without touching. A cruel game. One she had played before and lost every time.

“I don’t belong to anyone,” she said, forcing steadiness into her voice.

A gloved hand reached past her shoulder, plucking the book from the shelf. His fingers grazed hers—just a whisper of contact, yet it sent a dangerous thrill through her.

He leaned in, his lips so close to her ear that his breath was warmth against her skin. “Lying never suited you.”

Her pulse betrayed her, hammering in her throat, her chest, everywhere he wasn’t touching but might as well have been.

“This is a mistake,” she whispered, though she didn’t step away.

“Perhaps.” He turned the page absentmindedly, his gaze fixed on her instead of the words. “But you keep making it.”

Selene swallowed. She should leave. Walk away before the inevitable happened. Before she found herself ensnared once more.

But then his fingers brushed the curve of her neck, tilting her chin just enough to make her look at him. And she knew.

Some mistakes were meant to be repeated.