--
The music still throbbed faintly in the distance, but Emory wasn't listening anymore.
Not to the beat, not to the voices, not even to the footsteps behind her.
She walked fast across the quad in the cold, every step echoing with the last thing he whispered in her ear.
> "Selene."
It wasn't just the name.
It was the way he said it. Like he owned it.
Like he owned her.
---
By the time she reached her suite, her hands were shaking.
She shut the door, leaned against it, and closed her eyes for a long, long moment.
That name.
That touch.
That look.
It was supposed to be over. Two years ago.
But Skye Thorne didn't stay gone.
Not from Braxton.
Not from her.
---
Emory pulled off her mask and tossed it onto the velvet armchair. Her dress followed—black satin slipping from her body, corset loosened with trembling fingers. She didn't care about the mess.
In just her lace underthings and stockings, she crossed the room and stared at her reflection in the mirror.
She didn't look fragile.
She looked like a girl who should've said no.
But didn't.
And a deeper part of her hated how much of that had felt like… remembering.
---
She poured herself a glass of water. Took two sips.
Then—
Knock.
She stilled.
Not Jessie.
Not Mariah.
She already knew who it was.
---
She opened the door.
He stood there like a shadow — dark, tall, unreadable.
His mask was gone. His coat hung open, boots slightly scuffed from the stone halls. But he didn't look tired.
He looked focused.
> "You left fast," he said.
"You touched me."
> "You let me."
"I didn't—" she started, but he stepped forward, slow and calm, into her room. She didn't stop him.
The door closed behind him with a soft click.
She crossed her arms, standing straight.
> "You need to leave, Skye."
> "You're shaking."
"I'm cold."
> "You're still flushed."
"Get out."
> "Tell me the truth."
His voice was low, almost gentle. It disarmed her more than the sharp edge he usually carried. And it made her mad.
"Why are you here?" she asked. "Just to prove you still get a reaction out of me?"
> "You think I planned that?" he asked. "That dance? That moment?"
He stepped closer.
> "I touched you because I forgot how to stop myself. And you—"
"You didn't pull away."
She swallowed.
Her breath caught, but she didn't want him to see that.
> "You're confusing old mistakes with unfinished business," she said, trying to keep her voice steady.
> "I'm not confused," he said.
There was silence.
Then his eyes dropped, scanning her — not lewdly, not hungrily — just intimately. Like he knew the landscape of her skin and was remembering the map.
He reached out and gently lifted her hand.
She almost pulled away.
But didn't.
> "You've changed," he said quietly. "You're colder. Sharper."
> "Because I had to be."
He nodded once.
> "I can still read you."
"No, you can't."
He let go of her hand. But not before his thumb lightly brushed across her knuckles.
> "You hated when I called you Selene," he murmured. "But you melted when I said it."
Her jaw tightened.
> "That name was never yours to keep."
> "It still fits."
She turned her back to him, walking to the window. Cold air seeped through the crack in the glass, cooling the heat rising in her skin.
> "We're not the same people we were," she said. "Whatever happened back then… it didn't survive."
Skye didn't respond immediately.
When he did, his voice was softer.
> "It survived in me."
She turned.
His eyes met hers — and for the first time since his return, there was something exposed in them.
Not just confidence.
Not hunger.
But memory.
> "You left me," he said. "That chapel… You walked away."
> "You let me."
He inhaled like her words hit somewhere deep.
Then he looked down, tongue resting against his teeth.
> "You kissed me first, Emory."
> "And you stopped kissing me second."
A silence bloomed between them.
Not empty.
But full of every word they never said.
---
He stepped closer again, eyes locked on hers.
> "Say the word and I'll leave," he whispered.
She said nothing.
> "Or say Selene, and I'll stay."
She didn't speak.
But she didn't move either.
Not when he gently reached for her again. Not when his hand brushed the curve of her waist. Not when his lips hovered just near hers, not quite touching.
> "You feel it too," he murmured.
> "You're mistaken."
But her voice trembled.
He didn't kiss her.
He just stood there, too close, breathing her in like sin.
Then—
Knock.
They both froze.
> "Emory?" Nick's voice, muffled from the hallway. "You in there?"
Her eyes widened.
Skye's mouth curved, slow and wicked.
> "Guess we're not done"
He stepped back toward the balcony door, slipping into the shadows again.
> "Tell him whatever you want," he said. "But don't lie to yourself."
And then he was gone.
Leaving her in the quiet.
Heart racing.
Skin warm.
And name still ringing in her ears—
> Selene.