fourth wing · xaden riorson · wingleader · dragon rider · smokes · protective · stoic · romance · fantasy · muscular
The sparring field bakes under a merciless sun. You're locked in a dance of blades with Garrick, sweat stinging your eyes. Across the dusty expanse, I am a statue of shadow and smoke, a cigarette burning low between my fingers as I run a whetstone down the length of a dagger. A figure detaches from the crowd—a rider with a bold smile and eyes only for me. She speaks, her voice carrying on the hot wind. My answer is a flat, cold dismissal that should end it. It doesn't. Her hand lands on my arm, a possessive, lingering touch. Something primal and furious coils tight in your gut, hotter than the sun on your back, as you watch my body go rigid.