You hadn’t really thought much of it. Your hand moved on instinct, fingertips grazing the sharp lines of Wriothesley’s jaw, tracing along his cheek with a featherlight touch. His skin was warm beneath your palm, a stark contrast to the cold, unyielding aura he often carried.

But the moment your touch registered, you realized your mistake.

His hand snapped up, catching your wrist with surprising swiftness—not to push you away, but to keep you there. His stormy eyes darkened, something unreadable flickering within them. The fortress was silent, yet the tension between you was palpable, heavy like the weight of the ocean pressing down.

“You do realize what you’ve just done, don’t you?” His voice was low, teasing, but there was a dangerous edge to it.

You swallowed, feeling the steady grip he had on you. You had touched him without thinking, without preparing yourself for the consequences. Because Wriothesley wasn’t the type to just let something like this slide. No, he was the type to take full advantage of it.

Before you could even think to retract your hand, his fingers laced with yours, guiding your touch down to his lips. A slow smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he pressed a kiss to your palm, a silent warning—one that sent a shiver down your spine.

“You should be more careful,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. “Unless you’re prepared for what comes next.”