Page 36 of She Walks with Broken Things

NYSSA

“You broke the rule.”

My pulse boomed. My pulse stammered. But it was my leg that roared. A cramp that ran deep from my hip gnawing deep into my thigh. My leg shook, the tremor coursing all the way into my foot. Hard enough to make me catch my breath.

I didn’t want to turn. I wanted to keep staring at the flowers in front of me.

But something else rose.

Anger.

I turned too fast. My knee gave in, buckling just enough for me to drop the book of poetry.

It hit the ground with a thud.

All I thought about was that tiny perfect dried flower on the damp, cold earth. I swallowed the pain, bending fast to grab it from the ground. I grasped it, rising before a heavy hand wrapped around my arm and yanked me forward.

The curl of his lips was all I saw as I slammed into his chest.

“Did you hear me?”

Too close.

My breath caught.

His didn’t.

Those wide, pale eyes didn’t see me but pierced me all the same.

“Well?”

I yanked my arm. My anger rose. “Get your hand off me!”

He stilled. Stunned. Like I hadn’t just collided with him. Like my body pressed against his meant nothing. But he didn’t let go. His grip shifted. Not tighter—just different. His hand moved to mine. To the book.

His fingers traced the cover. Slow. Deliberate. Too slow. The back of his knuckles brushed my skin. Barely there. And still—I felt it. Every inch of it. His touch didn’t take. It lingered. That was worse. Something in me tightened. Something I didn’t understand.

His fingers found the spine, running over the worn grooves before stopping. Something moved through him. He went still. Lips parting. “Where did you get this?” His voice dropped. “What other rules have you broken?”