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For everything that Xylo Forbartz had grown used to in his time as a hero, he was all too aware of his streak of stubbornness.
Though he stuck to orders as best he could—he wasn't keen on dying yet, not before he'd settled his score—there were always gaps to slip through. Always some way to be the man he'd been before: someone who pulled the innocent out of harm's way, even when they spat at him for the mark he carried.
Not everyone appreciated this, naturally. Commander Kivia least of all—but what did Xylo care what she thought? The woman was arrogant, ambitious, and hell-bent on marching herself and her soldiers straight into the grave.
Besides, Xylo didn't answer to her, so unless she'd suddenly become his handler, she could curse him out till her voice gave and he'd still do what he damn well pleased.
Except, that didn't seem to be the case this time. Because if there was one line he wouldn't cross, it was attacking a Holy Knight—unless he wanted to be blown to smithereens. So he had no choice but to stand there and let the Commander slam him against the wall, screaming in his face about how reckless he was. Though all Xylo could really focus on was—this is the first time she's actually put her hands on me like this.
Her fingers dug into his collar, her breath ragged and hot against his jaw, and despite the venom in her words, there was something almost desperate in the way she held him there.
Xylo met her glare with a flat, unimpressed stare of his own. "You done?"
Kivia snarled. Xylo had seen her angry before, but never like this—never this raw, this sharp-edged. Then again, it had been a close call. Too close. And Teoritta had been right there in the line of fire. That had to be it—the Commander was furious because a Goddess had nearly gotten herself killed. Not because of him. Couldn't be because of him.
"Careful, Kivia. You're starting to make it look like you give a shit."
"Shut up you piece of—" She let out a frustrated snarl. "You bastard!"
"That's the fifth time you've said that. Getting repetitive, don't ya think?"
"Shut—"
"Yeah, shut u—"
She kissed him. Hard.
Xylo froze. Every sharp retort, every deflection he'd had lined up died in his throat the moment Kivia's mouth crashed against his—furious, frenzied, and utterly unforgiving. For a heartbeat, maybe two, he didn't move, didn't breathe, just stood there pinned between her and the wall while his brain tried and failed to catch up with what was happening.
He lifted his hands to her shoulders—meant to shove her back, maybe, or at least try—but instead his fingers curled into the fabric of her uniform without any real conviction. His eyes fluttered shut despite himself, and somehow his mouth was moving with hers.
It wasn't that he couldn't push her away, she was shorter, slighter in build, but she felt immovable all the same. Kivia hadn't earned her reputation by being soft, and she proved it now when he tried to push forward experimentally and she only shoved him harder against the wall.
For one moment, Xylo let himself fall into it. The rage and feral fight churning in his chest went quiet, the fact that she was a Holy Knight—the order that betrayed him and collared him like a dog—slipping clean out of his head.
Then Kivia pulled back just as suddenly as she'd lunged forward, her chest heaving, eyes wild and bright with something that looked dangerously close to panic. She released his collar and stepped away, putting distance between them like the contact had burned her.
"Don't," she said, voice hoarse and shaking, though whether from anger or something else entirely, Xylo couldn't tell. "Don't you dare say a word about this."
Xylo stared at her, chest rising and falling just as hard as hers, mouth still tingling and brain still scrambling to catch up. For once in his gods-damned life, he had nothing to say.
"What the hell was—" Xylo started eventually, but Kivia was already turning on her heel, heading for the door like she couldn't get away fast enough.
"This never happened," she snapped over her shoulder, her voice clipped and commanding despite the tremor beneath it. "And if you breathe a word of it to anyone, I'll make sure you regret it."
Then she was gone, the door slamming shut behind her hard enough to rattle the frame, leaving Xylo alone with the ghost of her mouth on his and absolutely no idea what the hell had just happened.