Don't Touch That Book Novels & Stories

"If you want me to touch it..." The runes above the book flared violently. Donato froze. Something invisible squeezed around his wrist— warning him, threatening him and restraining him. He could not touch it, not alone. "A trap," he whispered. And the truth struck hard. He was never meant to take the book. The temple lured him here— knowing he would be the one to sacrifice himself. Knowing he would stay behind. Knowing Alessia would not let Luca stay. Knowing Luca's love would force the choice.

Forbiden fruit. It just popped into my mind, and I'm really annoyed right now. I closed the book with its heavy cover making a 'buk' sound amongst the silence of the library. My eyes widened as the click of the library door hit my ears, and, as if my mind had bewitched him, Nicholas de Sanctis stepped inside.

Martin walks so close to Kate and grabs her neck and pulls her towards him in force as he whispers in his dark angry voice "Who gave you the permission to touch this book! Don't you know that no one is allowed to touch any books from the library other than royal family!" "I... I am so sorry Mr. wood... I just wanted to read that book, but I promise you that I won't do this anymore, so... so please let me go!" kate started to beg, looking at him in her teary eyes. She tried to free herself from him but it was so hard, She don't know what to do.

“You can’t, all your books are on the floor.” “What crazy talks are yo spewing now, there’s nothing,”— he made swift movements with his hands and my locker opened. All my books came pouring out. I stretched my hand in front of me pushing him away till he landed on his butt. He is so rude. I didn’t realize immediately that Theodore didn’t touch the locker or the books. Neither did I realize that I didn’t touch him. “Oh shit.” The books I managed to gather fell to flow. “Oh shit is right.” Theodore forced out, looking as startled as I felt.

“I don’t know what supernatural pheromones you people pack, but I don’t want to be touched by you!” Oh shit!

I told him. "Where," he asked, as his eyes darted around. "What do you mean where? It's right in front of me," I told him and pointed to the book in front of me. "I don't see anything babe," Izaak said, which got me confused. "What do you mean?" I asked irritatedly. "It's right there," I reached out to get it, but withdrew my hand immediately, as there was a spark like an electric shock when I touched it.

there was…' An image flashes in my mind, so brief, I almost cannot comprehend it. I close my eyes and it comes again, clearer this time; a large book, back as hard as stone, among the various ones on the top shelf. "You must never touch it. Ever again", father had snapped at me when he found me balancing precariously on the ladder, the leather-bound pages in my hands. The thrill that ran through my fingers, my very bones. The light that flashed in father's eyes as he ripped it from my hands. The elders' talk about sacred objects…

I despise him so much and it is so hard to hide from this world when you know that every corner of this Academy is shouting Cayden's name. We just went to the shelves and I looked for a book to read because. I was thoroughly checking the books when I touched a book and it felt like I was suddenly electrocuted so I immediately let go. Shit, is this what they call static? I was curious, I looked at the book and I raised my hand again to touch it and this time I was not electrocuted. I took the book and looked. It is a brownish color book with moleskin. It looks old but still, it is in a good condition. I just read the title of the book.

Maybe it’s just in my mind, but the only thing I feel as his hand touches my upper arm is sparks. No sizzling, no burning.

“Because symmetrical arrangements make rich people feel judged.” I blinked once. “That might be the stupidest thing I’ve heard since arriving here.” “It’s called design.” “It’s called a cry for help.” One of the servants nearby choked on a laugh before quickly pretending to dust something. Kael shot him a look sharp enough to peel paint. Then he turned back to me. “You’re moving them too close together.” “No, I’m fixing them.” “You’re making the table look crowded.” “And you’ll make it look haunted with your “design””