OPERATION WINTERSPINE (Strings Between Us Book 2)

CHAPTER TWO: OF PDA, POSSESSIVENESS, AND THE BOY WHO KISSES LIKE HE OWNS TIME

CHAPTER TWO: OF PDA, POSSESSIVENESS, AND THE BOY WHO KISSES LIKE HE OWNS TIME

RIYEE'S POV

The moment the general assembly ended, the crowd began to scatter like clockwork set free.

Even the Ardent Court moved as if on instinct.

Saichel and Alexie were already holding hands, whispering nonsense only they understood. I caught bits of their plan—Commons, caffeine, and probably a good dose of "stop-touching-me-you're-irritating-no-wait-don't-let-go" energy that was just... them.

Keryn had her fingers looped around Lyle's wrist—not dragging him exactly, but definitely leading him. Their version of PDA was subtle: a shared glance, an almost-touch, like gravity worked harder when they were near each other. They didn't need clinginess. They had connection.

Xythe? Gone. Melted into the background like ink in water. But I knew where he went—he always did this. Commons, north wing. Not just for food. He'd observe the flow of students like he was tracking a pattern only he could decipher, memorizing every tic, twitch, and route.

Thres, Tofer, and Seb were probably neck-deep in surveillance by now—installing whatever sensors and counter-espionage measures Keryn requested. Because after today, Supreme Allievo Academy wasn't just some elite school.

It was territory.
And we were claiming it.

Not just for protection.
But because the Ice President—the boy who ruled this campus like a myth in uniform—was ours now too.

And apparently, said myth was walking toward me like he hadn't frozen the entire auditorium minutes ago.

"You're gorgeous," KD said, low and soft, as if it was just a fact—not a compliment, but a quiet truth. Like gravity. Like time.

His voice slipped beneath my skin like silk.

He was smiling again—the kind of soft curve I knew too well. The smile he only wore when he was this version of himself. The one he kept hidden beneath the ice.

I smirked back, tiptoed slightly, and leaned close to his ear. "You're supposed to be the cold, untouchable Ice President," I whispered. "But honestly, in that uniform, boyfriend... you look hot instead of cold."

He chuckled—low, amused, and unmistakably fond.
And then his gaze dropped. Slowly. Reverently.

He didn't just look at me.
He memorized me.

His fingers didn't move, but I swore his eyes traced every part of me—the tailored uniform, the subtle weapon holsters hidden in plain sight, the Court crest stitched into my blazer, the lip gloss I had debated using this morning.

"You may be claimed by them right now," he murmured. "But you're still mine. And now everyone knows it."

I blinked.

Then punched him—light, fast, and unexpected.

"Ow—what was that for?" he laughed, rubbing his shoulder like it actually hurt.

"For being annoyingly flirty in front of the whole school," I huffed.

"That wasn't flirting," he said smugly. "That was declaration."

"No," I said, arms crossing. "That was you being a walking anime thirst trap."

He frowned, scandalized. "Says the girl wearing an actual royalty-themed uniform."

I rolled my eyes.

And then—like flipping a switch—the laughter cracked the frost in him.

He laughed. Like summer.
Not the polite, regal chuckle of the Ice President.

No.
This was KD laughing.

The boy who kissed me under a broken lamppost last July.
The boy who ruined my sense of control with one look.
The boy who always made too much feel like just enough.

"I actually wanna do something right now," he said, voice dipping low.

And before I could ask, he tugged my hand, dragging me behind the grand podium—shielding us from view, but not from the tension curling around us like heat.

Then he cornered me.

Literally.

One hand planted beside my head, the other resting low on my waist. His eyes flickered down to my lips, then back up again.

"I'm kissing you," he said—like a promise. Not a question.

And he did.

The first kiss was soft. Barely there. A whisper of a moment.

But it lit a fuse under my skin.

His lips moved with gentle certainty—like he wasn't trying to own me but remind me. Of us. Of who we were when no one else was watching.

And before he could pull back, I reached up—fingers threading into his hair, pulling him down.

I kissed him.

He flinched in surprise, then melted into it like he was made to.

His hand slid from my waist to the small of my back, tugging me into him. Our uniforms rustled—too proper for what we were doing now. I could feel the press of his chest, the warmth of his breath between us, the quiet sigh he released against my lips.

Everything inside me twisted. In a good way. In a dangerous way.

Because this wasn't just kissing.

This was possession. This was homecoming.

And I couldn't stop.

Didn't want to.

His hands tightened—one fisting gently into my blazer like he was trying to hold on to the moment, to me. Our kiss deepened. No longer tentative. It burned slow and low, like kindling catching fire.

My knees almost buckled.

He noticed.

Of course he did.
He was Khaizer freaking Dylan.
He noticed everything.

Without breaking the kiss, he angled his stance—supporting me fully, pressing me against the wall like we were the only ones breathing in this building.

Like time had frozen for us, not because of him.

"KD," I whispered against his lips, dizzy.

He hummed.

"I think... we should stop."

He let out a breath—half scoff, half sigh. "Yeah. We should."

He didn't move. Neither did I.

His forehead rested against mine. His hand on my waist lingered. His breath still tasted like sugar and something addictive.

He hugged me.

"Should we finish this later?" he asked, all wicked grin and velvet threat.

My eyes widened. "What?"

He grinned. "Your room? Or mine?"

I shoved him lightly, flustered. "Khaizer Dylan!"

He just laughed.

And I just knew—
This wasn't over.
Not by a long shot.

And I wasn't sure if I wanted it to be.