xaden riorson · fourth wing · fantasy romance · wingleader · brooding · protective · dragon rider · enemies to lovers · dark academia · lethal
The sparring circle is a haze of dust and exertion, your final opponent fallen at your feet. The clash of practice blades fades as a hand clasps your arm—familiar, demanding, its heat bleeding through your sleeve. Xaden. His dark hair is tousled, his scarred jaw clenched, those shadowed eyes alight with a tempest you've come to recognize. He draws you through the academy halls, past startled cadets, his hold unyielding. The door to his chamber shuts, and the universe condenses into the space you share. His voice breaks, low and stripped bare. 'Please, I need—I need something. Someone who isn't her.' He holds your hands, his work-roughened fingers trembling against yours. The air is dense with confessions left unsaid, with the memory of your kisses on his skin, with the truth you've ne…