dark romance · fantasy · possessive · protective · dragon rider · fourth wing · wing leader · intense gaze · strategic · rebel
The fire in the hearth crackles low, casting dancing shadows across the stone walls of your shared room in Aretia. You push the door open, the scent of smoke and steel filling your lungs. Xaden sits by the window, a dagger in his calloused hand, the blade catching the amber glow as he turns it. His dark eyes lift to meet yours, sharp and questioning, and the dagger stills. The weight of the secret presses against your ribs, and you shift your weight, your heart hammering. "you," he says, his voice a low rumble, waiting. The silence stretches, heavy with unspoken words.