Chapter 20 20: Elroy's party deserves a life

Chapter 20 20 ENEMIES
SORAYA
His lips were on mine and the world stopped making sense.
For three heartbeats, I forgot everything. Forgot my mother. Forgot my mission. Forgot that Daryl Ender was supposed to be dead by my hand, not kissing me like I was oxygen and he was drowning.
His hand was still on my neck, thumb pressed against my pulse point, he could feel how fast my heart was racing. The leather of his glove was warm from his skin, and even through it I could feel him trembling.
Or maybe that was me.
His other hand found my waist, pulling me closer, and I let him. My fingers curled into his shirt of their own accord, and when he made this sound—half growl, half groan, something in my head cracked wide open.
This was wrong. This was completely and utterly wrong.
I shoved him back hard enough that he stumbled.
My palm connected with his cheek before my brain could catch up with my body. The crack echoed through the library.
"Don't you ever fucking try that with me, Ender!"
My voice came out shakier than I wanted. My lips were still tingling. I could taste him, mint and something that made me want to grab him again and—
No. Absolutely not.
Daryl touched his reddening cheek, and the bastard smirked. "You kiss better than you slap, Karter."
Heat flooded my face. Anger. Definitely anger. "You arrogant, insufferable—"
"We need to talk about what just happened."
"Nothing happened!" I was backing away from him, trying to put distance between us because the pull was still there. That magnetic thing that had been building since the first day, now amplified a thousand times because I knew what his mouth felt like on mine.
"Soraya—"
"It was adrenaline!" I snapped. "I almost died. People do stupid things when they almost die. It meant nothing."
Something flickered across his face. Hurt? No—certwinly not. "Right. Nothing."
"Exactly. So we forget it happened and never speak of it again."
He stepped toward me. I stepped back.
"What if I don't want to forget?" His voice dropped low, intimate in a way that made my stomach flip. "What if that's all I'm going to think about?"
My back hit the wall. When had I run out of room?
Daryl stopped just short of touching me, hands braced on either side of my head. Caging me in. His eyes—gold bleeding into brown—searched my face like he was trying to read a language he didn't quite understand.
"Tell me you didn't feel that," he said quietly. "Tell me it was just adrenaline, and I'll believe you."
I couldn't. The lie stuck in my throat.
Because I had felt it. Felt everything. The six months of training to be cold and efficient had evaporated the second his lips touched mine, and now I was just a human girl who was terrified of what she was feeling.
"Daryl—" His name came out as a whisper.
"I'm going to kiss you again," he said. Giving me time to move, to protest, to slap him again.
I should have. I should have pushed him away and run and never looked back.
Instead, I fisted my hand in his shirt and pulled him to me.
This kiss was different. Desperate where the first had been impulsive. I kissed him like I was trying to memorize the shape of his mouth, the taste of him, the way he gasped against my lips when my fingers slid into his hair.
His hands stayed on the wall. Not touching me. Like he was giving me control even as he kissed me back with enough intensity to make my knees weak.
I broke away, breathing hard. "This is insane."
"Completely." He was panting too, forehead pressed against mine. "We hate each other."
"You're my assignment."
The word slipped out before I could stop it.
Daryl went still. "What?"
Fuck. Fuck.
"Guard assignment," I corrected quickly, my mind scrambling. " I'm supposed to keep you alive."
His eyes narrowed. For a long moment, I thought he'd caught the lie. Then he laughed. "Of course. Duty. Is that why you kissed me back? Protecting your charge?"
"You kissed me first!"
"And you didn't stop me. Either time." He pushed off the wall, running both hands through his hair. Making it stand up in ways that shouldn't be attractive but absolutely were. "So what now, Karter? Do we pretend this didn't happen? Go back to sniping at each other and pretending we don't—"
"Don't what?"
He looked at me then, and the raw honesty in his expression made my chest ache. "Want each other. Even though it's the worst possible idea."
I should deny it. Should laugh it off. Should do anything except stand there staring at him like he'd just spoken some terrible truth I'd been trying to ignore.
"It is the worst idea," I said finally.
"Agreed."
"You don't trust me."
"I don't."
"And I don't like you."
His mouth curved. "Liar."
Before I could respond, voices echoed from the corridor. Multiple footsteps approaching fast.
We sprang apart like we'd been electrocuted.
By the time Adele burst through the doors with Sir Owen and the guards trailing behind, Daryl and I were standing a respectable distance apart. Professional. Appropriate.
But I could still feel the ghost of his lips on mine. Could see the way his gaze kept flickering to my mouth when he thought I wasn't looking.
This was a disaster.
___
DARYL
I'd lost my mind. That was the only explanation.
Kissed her. Twice. And would have done it a third time if we hadn't been interrupted.
What the actual fuck was wrong with me?
I barely heard Sir Owen's questions, I gave answers on autopilot about the wolf, the attack, my reasoning for killing it. My thoughts were still tangled up in the girl standing too carefully across the room, arms crossed, refusing to look at me.
Soraya Karter had kissed me back.
Both times.
And right before we'd been interrupted, she'd said something that was nagging at the edges of my mind. You're my assignment, and then she'd flinched like she had caught herself saying too much.
What did that mean?
"Prince Daryl." Sir Owen's sharp voice cut through my thoughts. "Are you listening?"
"No," I said honestly.
His jaw tightened. "I said you're both to report to the Principal's office. Now."
Of course we were. Twice in a week was a charm, wasn't it?