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The engine still purred in protest, cooling from the hellish chase they'd just pulled off. The night air in the N109 Zone was thick with dust and leftover adrenaline. The street was empty, moonlight glinting off the shell of Sylus's black car, its paint scorched, bumper almost dented, and a few bullet grazes giving it a war-torn charm.
Sylus hadn't even cut the engine when you ducked back down through the open sunroof, boots landing squarely on the passenger seat before you climbed over the gear shift—furious, fuming, and fire in motion.
You straddled his lap without ceremony, knees pressing into the sides of his thighs as you planted yourself down and grabbed a fistful of his jacket. His breath caught—not from surprise, but from how close you were. He could count the flecks of rage in your eyes.
"You absolute idiot," you snapped, jabbing a finger into his chest. "You destroyed it? Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?"
Sylus raised both hands in mock defense, that infuriatingly cocky smirk already curling on his lips. "I mean, I could take a guess—"
"Don’t," you hissed, tightening your grip. "The Protocore, Sylus. The one thing—the only thing—I was supposed to secure and report to Jenna. Not for you to blow it up like some reckless trigger-happy jackass on a joyride!"
"It was either the protocore or your organs scattered across a five-mile radius," he said smoothly, eyes never leaving yours. "I picked the option where your head stays attached to that pretty neck of yours, Kitten."
You stared at him, chest rising and falling hard. You hated that he cared. The fury didn’t dissipate—it just twisted, deeper, more personal. "I needed that core. You promised you’d help me get it back. You—"
"I did help," he interrupted gently. "I helped you survive."
You opened your mouth to snap back, but his hands had moved—one settling lightly on your hip, the other ghosting over the small of your back like he was grounding you, not restraining.
For a moment, there was only the sound of your ragged breathing and the hum of the idling engine.
"I didn’t promise to let you die for the Association, Sweetie," he said softly. "I promised I’d keep you alive."
Your fingers trembled where they still clutched his collar. Your jaw clenched. But you didn’t move.
Didn’t leave.
Instead, you said, "You’re impossible."
"Kitten," Sylus murmured, smile lazy and laced with heat. “Don’t deny that you don't love every chaotic second of that.”
You shot him a glare sharp enough to cut steel. “Don’t push it.”
"Wouldn't dream of it," he said, though his hands stayed exactly where they were, warm and secure. "But if you’re gonna scold me, I might need a little more motivation to listen."
Your eyes narrowed. “What kind of motivation?”
He leaned in just a little, enough for his voice to drop like velvet. “The kind that makes surviving worth it.”
Your glare didn’t waver, but Sylus could see it—the crack in your fury. That split-second flicker where your eyes dropped to his mouth before snapping back up, full of warning.
He wasn’t imagining it. He knew your tells now, the way anger gave you adrenaline, and adrenaline made you reckless in ways you didn’t always admit.
“I said don’t push it,” you warned again, your voice lower, tighter.
“Too late for that, Sweetie,” he said.
Before you could respond, he moved.
In a fluid, calculated motion, he leaned forward, flipping the switch of power between you two with swift precision. You let out a sharp gasp as he caged you between his arms and the steering wheel, your back pressing into it, knees still bracketing his hips. Your hands flew up instinctively to his chest, ready to shove him away—but he didn’t lean in. Not quite.
He just hovered, smug and close, the faint smell of his spiced woody scent and the heat of his body wrapping around you like smoke and thunder.
“Wanna yell at me some more?” he murmured.
You scowled, fingers fisting in the collar of his jacket again—but your breath caught when he started to move again. Slow. Deliberate. His predatory gaze watching you the entire time, ruby eyes gleaming like fiery embers.
He peeled off the cracked leather jacket, the fabric whispering as it slid down his arms, revealing the tight black shirt beneath—soaked in sweat, clinging to every sculpted line of his torso. Your mouth opened, no words ready. Not when he popped his collar opened and pulled that shirt up next, dragging it over his head and tossing it into the back seat like it owed him money.
Your eyes widened. “You—what are you—?”
He smirked, knowing exactly what he was doing.
“I figured if I’m getting scolded,” he said, voice a husky drawl, “I should be comfortable for it.”
“You’re—You’re not even sorry,” you sputtered, but your gaze betrayed you—dragging over the cut of his chest, the curve of his abs, the damn veins on his arms. Why did he have to be so fucking hot?
“Nope,” he said unapologetically. “But you’re making it hard to regret anything.”
He leaned in closer, breath brushing your cheek, mouth hovering near your jawline. You froze, lips parting slightly, eyes fluttering shut in reflex—waiting.
And then—
Click.
Your eyes flew open.
You blinked in confusion, then followed the sound to see him calmly open the dashboard compartment beside you. Your mouth dropped open.
“Sylus—what the actual hell.”
He grinned, utterly pleased with himself as he pulled out a small pack of towels and a rolled-up shirt.
“I was sweating like hell back there, Kitten. Needed to wipe down,” he said nonchalantly, dabbing at his neck with a towel as if he hadn’t just weaponized his body for the sake of teasing you into a state of half-lustful confusion.
You looked away with a pout and a flustered growl, swatting his chest. “You’re such an ass.”
“I think you like this ass,” he said with a wink, tossing you one of the towels.
You caught it mid-air, glaring. “I liked the part where I thought you might kiss me. I’m not so sure about this part.” You mumbled out, obviously annoyed, not caring if he heard it or not.
Sylus chuckled as he leaned in again, towel over his shoulder, voice dipping low and rough against your ear. “Then stick around, Sweetie. That part might still be coming.”
You stayed pressed against the steering wheel, towel forgotten in your lap, eyes narrowed into slits of betrayal.
“You’re unbelievable,” you muttered.
Sylus tilted his head. “And yet, here you still are.”
“Because I’m stuck,” you snapped, though your voice lacked venom. “Because we’re in the middle of the damn N109 Zone and if I step out, some crawler beast might—”
He cut you off by leaning in further. Close. Too close.
His forehead graze yours, just barely, and the change in the air was instant—charged, thick, unbearably slow. Your breath hitched.
He didn’t touch you. Didn’t kiss you. Just hovered—close enough to burn, far enough to ache. Letting the tension build like lightning waiting to strike.
“You’re not stuck,” he murmured, voice low and velvet-dark. “You’re just waiting, Sweetie.”
“For what?” you whispered, your lips inches from his.
His hand came up, fingers threading into your hair, cradling the back of your head like you were the most fragile, furious thing in the world.
“For this.”
He kissed you like he’d been holding back for miles and missions and moments too long. No hesitation, no teasing. Just raw heat and hunger, poured into the press of his lips against yours. And you met him right there—fisting the towel, the collar of his pants, anything you could grab as you kissed him back with the fury of someone who hated wanting him this much.
The feeling of his soft and firm lips on yours was enough to fire another shot of adrenaline cruising through your body. His tongue swept your bottom lip and you parted for him instantly—desperate, needy, starved. The kiss turned molten, deep, claiming, like he was pouring every reckless choice and stubborn smirk into it. His hand tightened in your hair. Your nails scraped across his bare back, and he growled softly into your mouth, like you’d sparked something dangerous inside him.
You gasped as he shifted, pulling you closer by the hips until there was no space left between them, until your body molded against his like they were designed to clash like this. The gear shift dug into your thigh. The steering wheel pressed into your back. It didn’t matter. Nothing did. All that matters was that his lips shouldn’t leave yours anytime soon.
You broke the kiss just enough to breathe, mouths still brushing, your voice shaky and wrecked. “You’re such a damn menace.”
His lips traced the corner of your mouth, teasing. “Then stop kissing me.”
You kissed him harder.
It was wild. Unfiltered. Like both of you were making up for lost time and every stolen glance across the chase. Every unsaid thing. Every intentional or unintentional touch. Every night you and him pretended this wasn’t inevitable.
By the time you and Sylus pulled apart again, your lips were swollen, eyes glazed with something dangerously close to wanting more. His forehead rested against yours again, both of you breathing like you’d just sprinted through hell.
“Next time,” you whispered, voice ragged, “I’m still punching you for that protocore.”
He didn’t answer at first. Just pulled back slightly, one brow raised, lips curled in a slow, smug smile that made you suspicious instantly.
“What?” you asked warily.
He reached past you, sliding his arm into the other side of the dashboard, fingers tapping a hidden latch inside the compartment. Something metallic slid loose.
Your eyes widened the moment he dropped it into your palm.
The protocore. Intact. Untouched. Gleaming.
“You—” you started, eyes snapping to his face in disbelief, rage turning into something muddled and electric. “You had it this whole time?!”
Sylus just leaned in again, grinning like the arrogant, glorious bastard he was.
“Did I ever tell you that I’m a big fan of your frustrated face, Kitten?” he whispered.
And then he kissed you again—even harder this time. Like punctuation to his sin. Like he meant to break every rule and kiss you senseless doing it.
You tried to be mad. You really did. But your fingers curled tighter around the Protocore as your other hand tangled into his silver hair, pulling him deeper into that kiss, heart pounding against your ribs like a war drum.
You weakly hit his chest as you broke the kiss, lips already missing his, your breathing uneven. “I'm so gonna punch you, Sylus.”
Sylus grinned, cocky and flushed. “Go ahead, Sweetie.”