The love of me

s dream. Under the soft glow of chandeliers, Selene stood near a sculpture, her fingers lightly grazing the rim of h

rty

ams she had shelved, how many walls she had learned to live behind. She didn't expect anything from tonight. Anot

he saw

d horses, hands tucked into his pockets, a soft curl in his dark hair falling over his brow. His posture was r

aught before she

e was a stranger in a room of suits and champagne, and yet he belonged in a way no one else did. And when his eyes finally la

just slightly-but enough to

pable of

ble of bei

d her-unhurried, unafraid. And with every step closer, S

s voice smooth, with a warm, low t

but didn't really look at it. "I think th

still on her. "That's what I t

disbelief and the warmth s

line," she

lied. "But I me

but her eyes held the tremb

taste in music probably leaned toward things she didn't recognize. That he'd live fast, burn brigh

aning slightly closer. From breathin

seemed, her soul whispered some

m be t

doesn't m

cause it does

ly-accidentally?-against hers, a qu

of something she

didn't