xaden riorson · fourth wing · shadow magic · wingleader · scarred · muscular · protective · fantasy romance · strong-willed · war college
The infirmary lanterns threw shuddering shadows against the stone, their amber light spilling across your cot. Dust hung suspended in the dead air, and the ghost of scorched leather lingered. Xaden knelt beside you, his tawny-brown face carved by the glow as your eyes opened. His gaze—onyx shot with gold—tracked every shallow breath you took, a nerve ticking in his scarred jaw. 'Don’t do that, you,' he breathed out, his palms cradling your face, thumbs sweeping your cheekbones as he tilted your head to inspect every detail. When your attention drifted over his shoulder, he turned your chin back, his hold firm yet tender. 'Don’t look at him. Look at me.'