OPERATION WINTERSPINE (Strings Between Us Book 2)

CHAPTER FIVE: OF BALCONY INVASIONS, HEARTBEAT SPIKES, AND A STOLEN BED

He pulled back just enough to meet my gaze, then calmly climbed onto my bed. Like it was his. Like I'd actually stop him.

Spoiler: I didn't. Because apparently my spine decided to take the night off and let him do whatever he wanted.

He sat against the wall first, long legs stretching out over the edge of the mattress like he belonged there. Then, with an almost childlike calm, he shifted one of my throw pillows aside, flicked his eyes toward me, and said with that insufferable smirk,

"Unless you want me on the floor, Princess."

I mentally rolled my eyes at the way he said Princess. Mocking. He knew exactly what he was doing—throwing the Ardent Court's title for me back in my face like it was some kind of private joke.

I stared. "You are not serious."

"Deadly," he replied without hesitation. "And tired. And very warm. Your bed smells like vanilla and violence. I'm staying."

I pinched the bridge of my nose. Only he could make trespassing sound poetic and illegal at the same time.

He patted the space beside him.
My brain was screaming. My heart was doing backflips. My dignity was waving a white flag and packing its bags.

Still, I folded my arms. "What if someone checks into your dorm?"

He gave me a lazy shrug. "Let them. I'll pull the classic 'I got lost looking for the restroom' line."

"You're Supreme Allievo's Ice President. They'll never buy it."

His lips curved—slow, deliberate, infuriating. "They will, if you kiss me again."

I blinked. Once. Twice. My whole nervous system short-circuited.

"You're—insufferable," I muttered, but my voice didn't come out nearly as steady as I wanted.

"Mm." He tilted his head, utterly unbothered. "You sound like you're considering it."

That grin again. That weaponized charm. I rolled my eyes so hard I nearly blacked out.

But even as I turned away to grab my hair tie, I could still feel it—that infuriating warmth creeping up my face. Because he was still on my bed. Because, apparently, my standards for self-preservation were now as low as my dignity.

Then morning came and I still couldn't believe it. The President of Supreme Allievo Academy was snoring beside me.

Okay—not snoring. Khaizer freaking Dylan didn't snore. Of course he didn't. The boy was genetically incapable of being unflattering.

But he was definitely sleeping. On my bed. After jumping my balcony like it was some casual Thursday night activity and not a major violation of dormitory regulations that could land us in a school-wide broadcast of "WHY YOU SHOULDN'T DATE YOUR PRESIDENT."

And there he was. Perfectly calm. Perfectly at ease. Like he belonged here. Like this wasn't the most reckless, heart-attack-inducing thing he could have done.

Meanwhile, I was wide awake. Overthinking. Cataloguing every possible scenario that could go wrong if someone found out he slept here. And worst of all—trying not to stare at the way his lashes brushed his cheekbones.

I stared at the soft rise and fall of his chest, at the way his ridiculously long lashes rested against his cheek, at the way his brows had finally—finally—relaxed. No tension. No Ice President mask. Just... KD. My KD. The same boy who thought balcony break-ins were romantic gestures and that my bed was apparently part of his presidential privileges.

The same KD who used to sneak into my room back at Home for Angels just because he "forgot" to say goodnight. The same KD who would pass out on my floor with a manga volume half-open on his chest, legs hanging off the beanbag like he owned the place. The KD who learned how to braid my hair in silence when I refused to talk.

I should've been mad. I should've kicked him out the second he smirked and said, "I'll sleep here." But I didn't. Because apparently my self-control packs up and leaves whenever it comes to him.

Because deep down, I wanted him to stay. Just tonight. Just one more night like the old days—when the world was quiet, when KD wasn't the Ice President, and I wasn't the girl people either hated or worshiped. Back then, it was just us. And maybe I needed that again.

Just Riyee and KD. And a very illegally shared bed.

I groaned softly, shifting on the sheets as I propped myself up on one elbow. KD stirred, his head tilting faintly toward me, and a few strands of his hair slipped over his forehead. I reached out and brushed them back—slow, careful, like touching something I shouldn't. And I didn't stop myself. Not this time.

I leaned down, pressing the barest kiss to his cheek. Just a breath of skin against skin. Warm. Familiar. Dangerously real.

And that was when I felt him smirk.
"So you knew how to steal kisses now?" he murmured, voice hoarse with sleep, smug even half-conscious.

I froze, heat flooding my face. Of course he was awake. Of course he'd catch me in the act.

"I wasn't stealing," I hissed, pulling back, but his eyes cracked open—light hazel glinting even in the dimness, amusement carved into them like he owned the moment. "You were asleep!"

He didn't open his eyes—just grinned, arms lazily pulling me into a sleepy hug.
"Still counts," he murmured. "Stealth move, Riyee."

"It was not!" I protested, but he was already pressing me to his chest like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"You kissed me."

"I—ugh! You're insufferable."

"You love insufferable."

Maybe I did. More than I should. More than I was ready to admit.

I buried my face in the crook of his neck, letting his warmth unravel the walls I'd spent years perfecting. His hand found mine beneath the blanket, fingers threading through mine as if he didn't have to think about it. As if he already knew the shape of me in the dark.

And the worst part? He did.

Somewhere in the link, I felt Xythe's pulse slip back to calm. Not silence—just quiet control. Like he'd locked that spike behind a steel door and thrown the key into a memory he didn't want to revisit.