(Kayden POV)

  The lock gave with a soft click.

  Kayden eased the door shut behind them and waited, counting breaths. No footsteps. No voices. He moved immediately, crossing to the desk, scanning the stacks of bound notes with practiced speed.

  “Top shelf,” Tessa murmured. “Second row.”

  She was already moving, efficient, quiet. No nerves. No wasted motion. That steadiness was why he’d agreed to this in the first place.

  They didn’t have long.

  He had just slid the folio free when the sound hit—footsteps in the corridor, unhurried, close. A voice followed, unmistakable.

  The door handle shifted.

  Kayden didn’t think. He tucked the folio in the back of his pants beneath his shirt, turned, caught Tessa by the arm, and pulled her back against the wall.

  “We need to make this believable,” he said under his breath.

  Her eyes flicked to the door.

  He leaned in and kissed her—quick, controlled, enough to sell the lie. It was meant to last a heartbeat. Nothing more.

  The door opened.

  Tessa didn’t freeze.

  She went up on her toes, closing the last inch between them, aligning their bodies more fully. Her hands settled—and she deepened the kiss without finesse, a clumsy, trusting attempt that caught him off guard.

  For a split second, Kayden registered the sound of the professor’s voice.

  Then he registered that he hadn’t pulled away.

  If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  He adjusted without thinking—because stopping suddenly would have been impossible. The kiss slowed, shifted, stopped being an act.

  “Tessa?”

  The name cut through it.

  They broke apart too late.

  The professor stood in the doorway, brows already drawn, gaze sharp. Tessa’s face had gone red.

  “I—” She didn’t finish. She slipped past the professor in a rush, eyes down, gone before either of them could stop her.

  Silence snapped back into place.

  The professor looked at Kayden. “Mr. Kayden, care to explain what you’re doing in a restricted classroom after hours?”

  Kayden straightened, heart still beating too fast, mind already slotting back into place. He held up the folio.

  “I was bringing this,” he said, lifting up the manual on X-17 ethical conduct form. “We lost track of time.”

  The professor’s gaze flicked to the notes, then back to him. A long moment passed.

  “Ethical conduct for X-17. Knights and mages included?”

  “Yes,” Kayden replied evenly.

  Another pause.

  “Fascinating,” Professor Meris said. “You chose to deliver it in my office. After hours. When the door should be expected to be locked.”

  He didn’t answer.

  She set her bag down with deliberate care.

  “I assume,” she continued, “that you’re aware this room exists specifically to discuss boundaries, intent, and the consequences of poor judgment?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “And that you are, by training, exceptionally aware of how appearances and context alter meaning?”

  “Yes.”

  She nodded once, as if confirming a hypothesis.

  “Then let’s be clear,” Meris said. “Affection is not the issue here.”

  Kayden’s jaw tightened a fraction.

  “The issue,” she went on, “is that if this situation had involved someone with less confidence, less consent, or less ability to walk away—would you still be comfortable with how quickly you decided for both of you?”

  Kayden swallowed. “No.”

  “I know,” she said. “That’s why this conversation is happening and not a report.”

  She took the folio from his hand, glanced at the cover, then set it on the desk.

  “The manual is appropriate,” Meris said. “The timing was not.”

  She met his eyes.

  “And for the record,” she added dryly, “if you ever need a private moment, do not choose my office. It suggests a misunderstanding of ethics so profound I would be obligated to revise my syllabus.”

  That almost got him.

  Almost.

  “You’re dismissed,” she said. “And sub-captain?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Next time you wish to demonstrate judgment,” Meris said, opening the door, “try doing it on purpose.”

  Kayden walked out and gently let the door close.

  Kayden didn’t move right away.

  His pulse took longer to settle than it should have. He could still feel the memory of her. The way he hadn’t stepped back.

  Whatever that had been, it hadn’t been part of the plan.

  And it might not be something he could ignore.