Archive of Our Own ^beta

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“Just remember, you need two out of three elements when pulling any flight manoeuvre,” Rhiannon is reciting as Sawyer takes a bite out of an apple and opens the gym door for us. “Velocity, power, or…”

I’m so distracted I can’t even focus on her words. It’s been like that lately—a raging inability to focus on any of my studies. It’s so unlike me, the way my brain insists on wandering anytime something academic is required of me. It’s gotten to the point where I’m curled up in bed at night reading fiction, rather than anything of use—and romantic fiction at that.

Ever since I began noticing the inconsistencies in our learning material, my mind has rebelled every time a textbook has been placed in front of me. It’s a visceral reaction—a rebellion of everything I am against everything I used to believe in. Or maybe it’s just frustration—wild and untamed anger at the fact that I can’t quite figure out what it is that’s missing; what Navarre is hiding from us.

“Violet?” I wrench my attention back, so I’m focusing on my best friend rather than the turbulent anxiety inside me. Rhiannon’s giving me an expectant look—and a worried one, like she thinks I’m about to fail this exam. Probably because I am. I’ve never failed an exam in my life.

I chew on my lip, casting my eyes downward.

“Altitude.” Sawyer answers for me, giving me a gentle nudge.

“Right. Altitude.” I repeat as we step into the stairwell.

“You know, if you need some help with physics I can—” It’s only the widening of my squad leader’s bright blue eyes that has me lurching, stumbling forward as something passes by the back of my neck, disrupting the air behind me.

Liam leaps forward, already reaching behind him for his sword, but he’s too late. Before I can react and unsheathe a weapon of my own, a bag is thrown over my head, obstructing my view. Panic flares in my gut and I draw a breath without thinking—a careless, unconscious act—and then I know nothing more.

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The scent of something acrid jolts me awake and I swing my fist out, knocking a hand away from my face. “She’s up.” A woman in dark blue says, backing away to confer with…Professor Grady? My head is spinning and I still feel faint as I force myself to sit up, my legs stretched out in front of me. I immediately reach for Tairn. “What’s happening?”

My eyes are slow to adjust to the bright midday sun and when they do, I find myself in some sort of forest; trees rising up around me on every side. “The course humans wouldn’t have to take if they would simply stay seated, known as RSC,” my dragon growls, all frustrated like he’s the one who’s just been drugged and dropped in the middle of the woods like a sack of potatoes.

I look to my right and find Rhiannon, Sawyer, and Ridoc all looking as confused as I feel. A hand falls to my shoulder and I tense, whirling around, but it’s only Liam. “You ok?” He asks quietly, holding my gaze in that calm, intense way of his.

“I’m fine.” I breathe, trying to blink the stars out of my eyes. I lean against him for a moment, regaining my bearings, willing my heart to stop beating so damn fast. It’s a fool’s errand because when I look around to take in the rest of the clearing, my eyes land on two groups of eight infantry cadets sat across from us.

All of them are dressed in the blue uniforms I am intimately familiar with and all of them are engaged in hushed conversation with each other…all except one. He’s possibly…ok definitely the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.

My heart stops, misses a beat, and then begins racing even faster than before. He’s tall, with windblown black hair that is certainly not regulation, telling me he’s probably important—a legacy maybe—if he has the kind of pull to get away with that. His skin is warm and tawny, dark stubble covers a strong jawline, and where his arms are folded over his torso…I swallow hard.

He’s astonishingly perfect, like he was carved by the gods or something and when my perusal reaches tantalising, full lips, a red flush creeps over my cheeks and down my chest, because they’re tilted up just so, in a devilish smirk. Slowly, I lift my eyes to his. They’re a gorgeous, gold-flecked onyx…and they’re staring right at me.

He arches a single brow, drawing my attention to the diagonal scar bisecting it. It creeps down to the top of his cheek, marring his skin in a way that screams danger. It only serves to make him more alluring and I cough, averting my eyes.

“Violet.” Liam says, his voice amused and I tear my gaze away, looking back up to my squad leader. He tilts his head to where Professor Grady is handing out waterskins and I step forward, accepting one of my own.

To our left are four more second-year riders—Second Squad, Flame Section, Second Wing—according to their designations and they’re all looking just as perplexed as we are. I don’t know any of them personally. I feel like perhaps I should have seen them around before, but none of their faces ring a bell with me—if I have seen them, they weren’t anything memorable.

Not like the man across the clearing.

Surrounding him are fifteen other infantry cadets, all looking…homogenous, to say the least. It only accentuates the beautiful man’s differences. The other men all have the same military-short haircut I’m used to seeing on infantry cadets, cropped close to their skulls in a fade, and the women wear their hair slicked back in tight buns.

Only the name tags about their hearts are different, except for…him. He’s not wearing one, like he expects everyone to know exactly who he is. Somehow I have no trouble believing that’s exactly why it’s missing. What he does have however, is a squad leader designation on his shoulder. Figures.

The five of us couldn’t make a stronger contrast if we tried. We’re all dressed in our summer uniforms, but we all look completely different, with a variety of modified shirts and various pieces of armour, not to mention weaponry.

I chance another glance up. He’s still staring at me. Flushing slightly, I uncork the top of the waterskin I’d been handed, and drink. The water is crisp and cold, but there’s something about it, something…pungent. It’s bitter and floral and not at all the way I’d expect fresh water to taste—or even day-old water for that matter.

I close the skin, wincing and look back up at Liam. There’s an indiscernible expression on his face. “Are you ok?” I ask him quietly, glancing quickly at the rest of my squad, checking them over for any injuries. Liam had lunged at the men who had taken us, though I’d fallen unconscious before I could see if he actually entered combat with them.

“Fine.” He says tightly, looking down at the waterskin in his hands. A dark, sinking feeling washes over me and I drop it to the ground instantly.

“Violet?” Sawyer asks beside us, rubbing his temples.

“Tairn, what was—” I stop abruptly. The usually crystal-clear connection is muffled, like someone has thrown a blanket over it. Panic seizes me when I realise the same is true for Andarna. No. Slowly, I take a deep breath and let it out. “I can’t reach Tairn.” I tell Liam, who nods, a grim expression on his face.

“I can’t reach Deigh, either.” He looks down at the waterskins again and it’s enough for the rest of our squadmates to catch his meaning, tossing their own on the ground. “Whatever they just had us drink is smothering the connection.”

“We’re blocked out,” a rider with a shoulder-length, dark-blonde braid whispers from the squad beside us.

“Breathe, Maribel,” their squad leader orders, shoving his tan hand into his dark curls, like he might actually benefit from that suggestion a little more. “It can’t be for long.”

As a counterpoint, Liam is calm and collected, like he’s entirely confident in his own abilities, even cut off from his Red Daggertail.

“This isn’t right.” Ridoc murmurs, stepping forward until he’s at my side. “I don’t give a shit if it’s for the course—we’re not supposed to be cut off from them.” I align a lot more with Ridoc than I do with Liam. It’s only been a year but Tairn and Andarna are such an integral part of me now, losing that connection…it feels like losing a limb. At least I’m not like Maribel, I suppose. That panicking will get her nowhere.

“Tomas.” Liam takes a step toward their leader.

“Liam.” Tomas returns. “This is Brisa, Mirabel, and Cohen.” He points to each of his squadmates one by one. The first gives us a curt nod, the second is still a little busy panicking, and the third is quick to give a smile, waving his hand in greeting.

“Violet, Ridoc, Rhiannon, and Sawyer.” Liam introduces simply before Grady clears his throat, looking at us over a folder of all things. I’ve been through some strange things in my life since my mother forced me into the Riders Quadrant, but this might just take the cake. He knocked us out, took away a sacred connection between us and our bonded dragons, and now he’s just standing there, marking things in a folder like this is some written exam? My lips turn down in a scowl.

“Now that you’re all awake, welcome to the first joint land navigation exercise.” He pulls two closed maps from the folder. “In the last two weeks, you’ve been taught how to read a map and today you’ll put those skills to use in a practical setting. Were this an actual operation with the makeup of an outpost, this unit would consist of the composition you see here.” That, I already know, having spent more than enough time living adjacent to them growing up.

There are two cadets in pale blue—Healers Quadrant—standing beside the woman who woke me up earlier with the smelling salts, along with a solitary scribe. The woman, I assume has to be the infantry’s professor and the scribe…Aoife. I know her. She’s wearing cream pants with her cream hooded tunic—hood down—so I can only assume she knew this was coming and was asked to participate, rather than being kidnapped and forced into it like us.

“Riders and infantry for fighting, a scribe to record the event, and healers for the obvious reasons.” Grady is saying, motioning them forward, and all three move to stand at the end of the infantry lineup.

The infantry professor, who’s wearing a captain’s rank, steps forward until she’s level with Professor Grady and says, “Cadets, rise.” She’s standing there, posture impeccable, and instantly the cadets mimic her, leaping to their feet and standing at attention, backs straight, all except one. “Squad Leader Riorson!” She says through grit teeth, stern and disapproving, and slowly he moves away from the tree he’s been leaning against all this time, relaxed stance straightening into a parade rest.

Riorson. Xaden Riorson. Suddenly things start making a lot more sense. Heir Riorson, son of Fen Riorson, the Duke of Aretia. He’d be a prince if Navarre hadn’t unified all those years ago, descended from the last Tyrrish king as he was. No wonder he held himself with an air of uncaring arrogance—aristocracy always do.

I can’t help but run my eyes over him again as the nine of us stand, waiting for orders from Professor Grady. He’s casual, his arms crossed over his chest, and I gather he doesn’t fear any kind of reprisal or disciplinary action for disrespecting a superior officer—what a life.

“This is the shortest course you’ll be conquering together this year, so try to get to know one another.” Wait, we’ll be seeing them again? “Fourth Wing, you’re attached to fourth squad.” Which of course is when he steps forward, lips tugging upward. “And Second Wing, you’re attached to second squad, just to make it easy. Your objective is to find the location marked on the maps and secure it. Once you do, you’ll be extracted.”

Liam and I share a doubtful glance. It can’t be that easy. The blond looks back over to the squad we’ve been paired to and I notice with curiosity the way he locks eyes with Riorson, a slight smile tugging at his lips. I run my hands over my sides, making sure my daggers are exactly where I left them, while trying not to look like I’m observing them.

“You’re good?” Rhiannon sidles up to me and I nod, leaning into my best friend’s side for a moment.

“I’m fine.” I reply, “just a little dazed.” And stressed, not that I’ll be admitting it out loud. It’s incredibly uncomfortable being so…alone, in my head now.

Professor Grady holds out the maps and Liam steps forward, taking one and handing the other to Tomas. “Two maps,” he says,“two teams but one cohesive unit. You’re not used to working together. You weren’t even warned you would be. But keeping Navarre safe requires teamwork between the segments of our military. There are times in your careers when you’ll need someone you can trust in the air or on the ground, and those bonds are forged here at Basgiath.” He looks between our groups. “We’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.”

I rear back a little. “Tomorrow?” I hiss possibly a little too loudly.

“Tomorrow.” Grady confirms and I frown, fuming on the inside. Great. A night in the woods. Unbelievable.

“Just find the extraction point and secure it? That’s our mission?” Liam asks skeptically. “No hidden surprises?” He passes the map off to Ridoc, barely even looking at it. While Liam’s good at pretty much everything, land navigation is the one area where Ridoc and Rhiannon might have him beat—and he knows it too. Liam Mairi isn’t afraid to delegate.

“Easy.” Ridoc says, already studying the map.

“Well…” Professor Grady replies slowly and I huff, crossing my arms over my chest. “You see, we have to level the playing field a little bit. Infantry has been doing land nav since their first year, so naturally, they might be a little better at it than you.” Ridoc bristles beside me and my glare intensifies as my eyes fall on Riorson’s easygoing smirk. “And you might notice that none of you nine”—Grady continues—“has the ability to fully communicate with your dragons.”

“Which is bullshit,” Ridoc says at full volume and I nod in agreement. A woman on the infantry side (from the team opposite Riorson’s) gawks.

“It is,” Professor Grady agrees. “It’s not something we do lightly, either and your dragons loathe it just as much as you do. You’ve all been dosed with a particular mixture of herbs that dulls not only your connections but your signet as well. As frustrating as it is, we’re actually pretty proud of the concoction, so let us know if you feel any side effects.”

“Besides you cutting off the most important bond we have?” Rhi argues.

“Precisely,” Professor Grady replies. I reach for my power, but only a tingle fills my fingers. Gods, I feel… vulnerable, and it really fucking sucks. I’ve grown a lot in the last year with the help of my friends and the addition of my bonds to my dragons. Having a part of that taken away is…awful, really.

My mind flies over what the mixture could possibly be as the two professors walk between our groups, already wondering how it could be counteracted. If I can identify the herbs used, maybe I can utilise those in the forest to reverse it? That hope gutters and dies as Grady picks up the used waterskins, carrying them away.

“Oh, and did I mention that there are two groups of you out here?” He smirks. He wasn’t my favourite professor before by any means, but now he’s definitely my most loathed member of the faculty, Carr can consider himself dethroned.

“The other is on the far side of the forest, and while your dragons will be hunting them, their dragons are hunting you. A few unbondeds joined, too.” The fuck? My stomach hollows. Almost every infantry cadet looks like they might pass out—even Riorson looks concerned, a faint frown gracing his face for a brief moment before it’s gone, a mask of casual indifference taking its place.

“Infantry, the riders are going to need to lean on your land nav expertise, but you won’t live without them should you encounter a dragon.” Grady looks the nine of us in the eye as he backs away. “Try and see that most of them make it out of here, will you?” He flashes a grin and turns around, walking into the forest with the infantry professor, leaving us in the middle of the fucking woods without supplies or our dragons.

We stare at the infantry squad. The infantry squad stares at us. The healers look comically uncomfortable, and Aoife already has a notebook out, pencil at the ready. “Well, this should be a good time had by all,” Ridoc mutters.

“Did he insinuate that we could die?” the smaller of the healers asks, his olive skin paling.

“Piss off the dragons and find out,” Sawyer replies. I mean, to be fair…this is Basgiath.

“You go to a military college,” I remind him, glancing down at his name tag, “Dyre.” I finish, passing him as I make my way over to the scribe. “Aoife, it’s nice to see you.” I greet her, taking in her pale face and soft red hair. “I didn’t realise they dragged scribes into RSC.”

“Hi, Violet. I’m currently the first in my year training for the field and not to be an adept,” she says. “You’re the most powerful rider in yours. Dyre and Calvin are the best in their years and then there’s Riorson…” She shrugs. “Naturally they built the strongest team first.”

I grin. “Naturally.”

“So what you’re saying is we’re the team to beat?” Ridoc grins, a clear attempt to be charming and I snort shaking my head.

“Precisely.”

“Then let’s make sure we don’t get beat,” Liam says, waving for Rhiannon and Ridoc to collaborate with the other squad—then he’s crossing the grass in two long strides and clasping hands with Xaden Riorson. “Hello, brother.” He grins, clapping the other man on the back with his free hand and I watch as the taller man does the same. The grin on his face is…breathtaking. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Of course they know each other. Not only are they both from Tyrrendor, but Liam’s mother is their highest ranking rider—no doubt they’ve both been dragged to official functions together, the same way I have around Calldyr. It’s surprising that Riorson and I haven’t met already, actually, given our similar age and his father’s standing.

His eyes drift back to me before I can avert my gaze and I wince. “Violet Sorrengail.” He says, his voice deep and smooth, like honey. His lips tilt up, an indiscernible look in his eyes—indiscernible, because my brain is currently trying to classify it as seductive and there’s no way in hell that’s accurate. “You’re—”

“Off-limits.” Liam says immediately. Riorson pauses, arms folded over his chest and turns back to him, arching a brow. “She’s on my squad and one of my best friends.” Liam says darkly. “Off. Limits. Xaden.”

Before I can stop myself I’m striding forward to join them. “Firstly, don’t be presumptuous Liam.” I glare at him for assuming I’d go anywhere near his brother in the first place. “And secondly, I can look after myself you prick!” I lash out with my fist, striking him hard in the bicep.

The blond hisses through grit teeth and takes a step back away from me, holding his hands up in surrender. Riorson lets out a low chuckle. “Violent little thing, aren’t you?” I turn to glare at him too and that requires tilting my head back to look up, and up, and up. Gods, he’s tall.

“Is there something funny about that?” I ask dangerously, daring him to say something more. I’m used to being underestimated, even harassed, due to my size. My first year in the Riders Quadrant I’d almost died half a dozen times, people were so desperate to get rid of me. A liability to the wing, they said. I’d taken great pleasure in showing them all I wasn’t—and now I’m the most dangerous rider of our generation. I have no qualms in demonstrating exactly that to an infantry officer if he has something to say, marquess or no.

“Not at all.” He replies smoothly, before his voice lowers. “It’s incredibly attractive.” My jaw just about hits the ground.

“Xaden!” Liam barks and I blink in disbelief before throwing my hands up, storming away as my brain restarts.

“Men.” I mutter to myself, ignoring the tiny part of me that’s pleased—that makes my heart clench, warmth flooding my chest, not to mention my cheeks. “Arrogant pricks, the lot of them.”

“I heard that!” He calls after me.

“You were meant to!” I sneer over my shoulder. Sawyer’s smiling when I rejoin him on ‘our’ side of the clearing.

“Getting along with the infantry already?” He teases, a hint of curiosity in his voice.

“Absolutely not.” I murmur. “Two days in here with them? I think we might go spare.” That’s not even taking into account the other squad, with whom I can hear Rhiannon and Ridoc already arguing.

Two hours later, we’re four miles from our starting point, with another six to go. There’s been several arguments between the infantry and riders, all of which I’ve stayed well away from, keeping to myself at the back of the group. Well…mostly to myself.

“Shouldn’t you be up there with them?” I sigh exasperatedly at Riorson, waving my hand in the general direction of his executive officer and the other leaders.

“No.” He replies easily, lacing his hands together behind his head. “It’s simple land navigation—I’m sure they’re just fine.” He looks down at me. “I’d much rather get to know you, Violence.” A wicked smirk touches his lips, not for the first time in the last few hours, and it’s a struggle to keep up my glare.

Liam had long since given up on trying to stop him, my squad leader heaving a long-suffering sigh before speeding up to walk at Sawyer’s side, the traitor. The apologetic look he’d tossed over his shoulder at me doesn’t mean a damn thing in the face of his disloyalty—he’s dead to me.

Riorson is charming, in his own way and while I would normally be turned off by that smooth arrogance he exudes, something tells me it’s well earned. He’s attractive, but he’s also…deadly, I think. He wouldn’t be out of place in the Riders Quadrant.

It’s the way his muscles bunch as he moves, his confident, sure stride—he’s absolutely lethal, that much is obvious. And in here, cut off from Tairn and Andarna? He’s certainly more lethal than me, in the most unsettling of ways—twice my size, he could snap my neck in an instant, should he so choose.

It’s only Liam’s clear affection for him that has me trusting the man enough to walk at his side without my squad at my back. That alone, says a lot for his character. Liam’s lovely and kind—sunshine incarnate—but he’s no fool, nor does he suffer them.

Over the last few miles we’ve trekked, Riorson has told me all about Aretia—about its temples, its libraries and the beauty of the surrounding area. It’s clear he loves his home and based on his descriptions, I don’t blame him. It’s one of the only cities of its size I’ve never seen—my mother never having been stationed there while I was growing up.

“Why did you go into the infantry?” I enquire finally, looking him up and down, taking in the blue uniform. “You seem like the type to become a rider, not…that.” I speak the word with derision. It’s not that I don’t see the benefits our infantry bring us, nor that I’m classist, it’s more that they’re…well they’re usually not the brightest mage lights around. Land navigation aside, they generally don’t have a lot to offer in the brains department, bar a select few.

“I’m a marquess.” He answers, his slight smile dimming.

“And?” I lift a brow.

“And, dear Violence, it’s frowned upon for the aristocracy to enter the Riders Quadrant.” He explains, looking away. “Too much power in one person’s hands. It makes people nervous.” It makes kings nervous, I read between the lines.

“That’s bullshit.” I murmur, a small hidden part of me relishing in the way it puts the light back in that slight smile as he gazes down at me. “Everyone should have a choice—be able to do whatever they want in life.”

“That’s not the world we live in.” He says simply, like idealism has no place in his life and I suppose it doesn’t.

“I guess not.”

His arm brushes against mine as we walk and my eyes dart down and then back up again, but he’s not looking at me, simply scanning the trees ahead. “Your swords aren’t standard issue.” I point out. “And your hair—that’s not regulation.” I prod, asking without saying the words.

“Again, I’m a marquess.” He points out, confirming my earlier suspicions. His position means he can do almost anything he wants and get away with it. “Your hair isn’t exactly the standard for the Riders Quadrant either.” He points out, waiting.

“I like it long.” I say simply. I’m obviously not about to divulge my frailties to him. “I didn’t have a choice in coming here. I should at least get to keep my hair the way I like it.” Even if I never get to wear it that way. I don’t realise until after I’ve said it, that my statement encompasses him, too.

“I like it.” He says quietly, and this smile is different, honest in a way previous ones have not been. “I’d like to see it down.” In what circumstance he’s not shy about sharing. Not in so many words, but in the heat that fills his eyes as he holds my stare and that wicked smirk curving his mouth again. I bite my lip. He truly is charming.

“You wanted to be a rider.” I say softly, entirely sure in my assessment. “If you weren’t born into the aristocracy.” It’s not really a question and I regret the words instantly, feeling regretful as the mood changes, the light in his eyes dimming once more.

“Yes.” He says simply. “I asked, more than once.” A shake of his head, almost like he’s shaking away a painful memory. “My father wouldn’t hear of it.” I swallow hard, a pang of sadness curling in my gut. I know what that’s like, to want something for so long—to build yourself around it and then have a parent tear it away in an instant.

“I’m sorry.” I whisper.

“I’m telling you, we’re in the Parchille Forest!” A yell cuts through our quiet bubble. The other infantry squad leader is arguing up ahead with Rhiannon—louder than is strictly necessary. Ridoc had dubbed him Cadet Asshole within the first few minutes of our little excursion together and it certainly fit him. My squadmate had become so frustrated with the man, he’d actually dropped back to walk with Aoife, content to let Rhiannon handle it.

I’m fairly certain the annoying man’s name is Calvin, but with the way he keeps reminding everyone he’s the ranking infantry officer up there (because Riorson’s been back here with me) I’m more than happy to humour Ridoc and keep calling him Cadet Asshole.

The man beside me has rolled his onyx eyes more than once upon hearing the other soldier open his mouth, so I’m assuming there’s no love lost between them. Still, he makes no move to intervene.

“That map doesn’t resemble any I’ve ever seen for Shedrick, which means we could be headed in the opposite direction than we should be. None of these landmarks match.” Riorson’s brow creases at that, a look of mild concern crossing his face for a moment before it’s gone.

“And I think you’re wrong,” Rhiannon counters, keeping her tone even.

“Where do you think we are?” Riorson leans down to whisper in my ear, his breath warm as his lips just brush my earlobe. Fuck. That has to be intentional, surely? His voice is a low rumble that in any other situation would have me pressing my legs together.

“Where do you think we are?” I counter, when I’m finally confident I can speak in a normal tone of voice and not something revealingly high-pitched. “I think it’s the—”

“Hadden Woods.” He speaks at the same moment I do and my traitorous heart flutters in my chest. Not just a pretty face then.

“I think so, too.” Aoife turns, trusting Ridoc to keep her from tripping as she walks carefully backwards, her journal clutched to her chest. I blink slightly at the intrusion, surprised, because for all that we’re in a group, walking in very close quarters with everyone else, it had felt like Riorson and I were in our own little world and it had been that way for at least the last hour. “It’s the only forest close enough to bring us all into by horse, since I doubt your dragons flew us in.”

“Yeah, they absolutely wouldn’t have.” I laugh slightly. I guess I can take that as confirmation they’d drugged her as well then, just as they did the rest of us—the only difference being she knew it was coming.

“Their squad leader is the infantry equivalent of Aetos,” Ridoc mutters from beside her and I manage to keep from laughing, but my lips curl up anyway.

“Who’s Aetos?” Riorson asks, lifting a brow.

“Violet’s ex-something.” Ridoc answers promptly, tossing me a grin, and I glower back at him.

“Friend.” I say immediately through grit teeth. “He was a friend—and now he’s not.” I don’t quite want to examine why I felt such urgency to correct his implication. It’s not as if the others haven’t teased me about Dain before, even knowing how horrible our falling out was for me, but right now…my gaze trails slowly upward to the man at my side. “He’s one of our wingleaders,” I explain with a note of finality, “kind of like your battalion commander.” Riorson says nothing.

The heat today is stifling and I finally get fed up with it, pulling my uniform top over my head so I can tie it around my waist. I still have my armour on of course, and it’s more than enough to cover me by common decency standards, let alone Rider norms, but I refrain from looking sideways again anyway, my cheeks reddening. Only the gods know how Aoife’s doing in that damn hood.

“What do we do if we come across a dragon?” A quiet infantry cadet asks from a few feet in front of us, her eyes darting between Riorson and I. She’s slightly breathless, and given the fitness level of most of the infantry, I can only assume it’s from anxiety rather than fear. I feel a pang of sympathy for her.

“First we choose a sacrifice,” Ridoc interjects, his tone serious. “And then we offer it and run.”

Her eyes flare wide and I reach out with my palm, slapping him in the chest. “Ridoc!” I chastise, “don’t be an asshole.”

“It depends on the colour.” Riorson murmurs, “but a good rule of thumb is to lower your eyes and back away.” I blink in surprise, whipping my head around to look up at him. “What?” His lips tug upward. “Weren’t expecting an infantry grunt to know anything about dragons?”

I smile. “Maybe.” He’s probably been exposed to dragons before, growing up in Aretia. Not to mention he had obviously received an aristocrat’s education—one that spared no expense. It makes sense that he would know the basics. “Go on, then.” I challenge, “what else do you know?”

There’s a devious glint in his eye as he reaches out to tilt my chin up with his finger. “I know black dragons are the smartest and the most cunning.” He murmurs. “Seems fitting that the baddest one around would choose you.”

I frown, trying to ignore the sensation of his skin on mine, my spine stiffening at his audacity. If we were in the Riders Quadrant right now, I’d have my blade at his wrist already. I’m not sure what it says about me—about him—that I don’t. “What does that mean?”

“It means you’re deceptive.” He answers. “That frail little body of yours people talk about, hides something darker. You’re all danger and sharp edges beneath the surface.”

I swallow hard, and not from the sensation of his touch. I guess I truly never can escape being ‘that Sorrengail girl’. “People talk?” My voice lowers, going quiet in a way I don’t like.

“People always talk.” He says sardonically. “You bonded two dragons—the biggest, baddest one around and the smallest—the only feathertail to ever bond, or so I hear—of course people talk.”

I open my mouth to respond, but we’re interrupted by Rhiannon’s raised voice. It seems like she’s finally had enough of Cadet Asshole and his antics. “Because there’s no way in hell they hauled us out of the quadrant and brought us that far away in four hours!” Riorson and I both swing our heads around.

“Because your dragons can’t fly that quickly?” Calvin’s voice is derisive.

“Because our dragons wouldn’t carry you, dumbass.” Ridoc calls. Aoife lets out an uncharacteristic snort and Rior—Xaden chuckles beside me.

Calvin turns and levels a look at Ridoc, and my gods I kind of want to hit him myself. “Have some respect for the rank.” He taps his shoulder, where there’s an open triangle embroidered beneath two oak leaves, the same insignia that’s on Xaden’s uniform.

“What do you do in that quadrant of yours that gives him the audacity?” I murmur, almost leaning into his side as I get close enough for him to hear me, but not Calvin.

“Nothing, Violence.” Xaden murmurs back, his mouth by my ear again. “He came like that.” I snort, covering my mouth with my hand.

“Your rank means exactly jack and shit to me.” Ridoc is saying, waving his hand in the air.

“What, like you’re so above us infantry?” Calvin counters.

“I mean technically, when we’re flying we’re above everyone,” Ridoc argues and I shake with silent laughter. “But if you’re asking if I’m better than you, then the answer is obviously yes.” My laughter ebbs and I shake my head. Ridoc has such a way of getting under people’s skin. I carefully watch Calvin’s hands just in case he decides to go for the short sword sheathed at his side. I eye it judgementally. There’s nothing wrong with it in particular, but it definitely holds no candle to the twin blades strapped to Xaden’s rucksack.

“Stop pissing him off on purpose,” Rhiannon calls, glancing back at Ridoc as we start trudging up another hill. Maybe this one will give us a better vantage point than the last and they can finally figure out where the hell we’re going—because it kind of feels like we’ve been walking around in circles for hours.

I listen with half an ear as Liam chides Ridoc out of obligation, not really bothering to put any effort into it. The woman who’s been walking beside him, Mirabel I think she was introduced to us as, turns to look at me. “You’re a Sorrengail, aren’t you?” She asks. “The commanding general’s daughter?” There’s a wince marring her face now. “The hair kind of gives you away.”

“Yes.” There’s no point denying it.

“Your mother is terrifying,” she whispers and Aoife glances between us before putting pencil to parchment again. Is she really writing that down? Is it naive to hope she hasn’t been recording every little thing Xaden and I have said?

I nod, answering Mirabel. “That’s one of her more prominent qualities.”

“Hey, guys?” The other woman in their squad—Brisa—raises her voice with a hint of alarm. “I think I know why it feels like we’re getting nowhere.” Great, this is sure to be good. Let me guess, it’s because we’re actually in the Hadden Woods? I glance up to meet Xaden’s eyes and I just know he’s thinking the same thing.

My breath is coming in short pants now as we finish climbing the hill, so I have none left in me to huff in exasperation as she says, “Calvin’s right, but so is Rhiannon. They gave us two different maps.” There are a lot of things I could say to that, a lot of ways I could react, but right now none of them are crossing my incredibly blank mind, because I’m staring dead on at a familiar Orange Scorpiontail. Baide.

She growls at us low in her throat where she’s been lying in wait on the other side of the hill. Her tail whips out behind her as she rises to her full height and I quickly avert my eyes, dropping them to the grass in deference, just like Kaori taught us all those months ago.

“Amari help us.” Calvin whispers, his panic palpable and I chance a quick flick of my eyes to the side, to check on Xaden, just to make sure he’s looking down. He is, in a sense. He’s looking at me. My pulse skitters. “Oranges are the most unpredictable. Eyes down. Do not run,” I whisper to the group at large. “She’ll kill you if you run. Try not to show any fear.”

Shit. I reach for my power and it doesn’t even sizzle in my veins—I can’t feel a damn thing. Panic rises in my throat and I force it down. With any other dragon I’d bet against them harming us, if only to avoid risking our dragons’ wrath, but Baide…she was bonded to Jack Barlowe and I’d ended his life last year—with prejudice.

She has nothing to lose, and given the hot blast of steam that levels the grass and makes my face sticky, she remembers exactly who I am. “Riders!” Rhiannon calls out. “Take the front!” She’s obviously following the same thought process as me. “Infantry, guard the healers and scribe!” She glances back at me, careful not to raise her head. “Violet, maybe you should—”

Keeping my eyes down, I push past Calvin to stand in the front, catching movement in my peripheral vision. “I’m not hiding.”

“What are you doing? It’s going to eat you,” one of the cadets behind us hisses.

I look over and see a healer, Dyre, a few feet to my right, staring straight at Baide, his mouth agape. Gods, why don’t people listen? A growl rumbles up the orange’s throat, and I lunge, gripping the strap of Dyre’s medical pack and yanking him behind us, passing him to Ridoc, who quickly shoves him to safety and moves to my side.

“No, she’s not,” Sawyer says, moving forward with Ridoc so the infantry is behind us. “That’s why we’re taking the front.” Baide swivels her head, then opens her mouth and curls her tongue, and I chance a quick glance, catching her hazy golden eyes narrowing to slits as she arches her neck, changing her angle. I inhale sharply.

“Liam, she’s going to blast right past us just like Solas.” I name the psychopathic vice commandant’s dragon, who’d burned through half of Tail Section on Conscription Day. He takes less than a second to assess and decide. “Second Wing,” he calls back. “Halt and cover the infantry where you are!”

Movement behind me stills and Baide flexes her claws in the ground and swivels again, choosing a target. As anxiety inducing as this is, I’m also enraged. What purpose does this serve? We’re never coming into contact with enemy dragons across the border and combat with gryphons has a completely different set of standards. If she kills any of us…

“It’s… It’s…” Calvin babbles.

“Drop your eyes and shut up,” Liam orders, shedding his happy-go-lucky mask.

“Gods, they all smell scared,” Ridoc whispers from my right.

“Exactly how pissed at you do you think she is?” Sawyer asks.

I wince. “She dropped a mountain on her rider.” Ridoc sighs like we’re all fucked, and I couldn’t agree more. My heart leaps into my throat as Baide prowls backward, lowering her head to our level. It’s the perfect angle to torch us, but I resist the urge to look and keep my eyes trained on the grass in front of me.

Hot air gusts in our direction as she scents each of us, starting with Rhiannon and moving to Sawyer. There are a few muffled cries from some of the infantry cadets as she exhales a dank huff of steam, then breathes in again when directly in front of me. I fight my racing heart.

Last year, I might have accepted death. But this year…this year, I’m bonded to one of the deadliest dragons on the Continent. That’s right. You might hate me, but I belong to Tairn and while there’s a good chance Tairn might die if I do, I’m not so sure she is willing to risk his wrath if he doesn’t. Baide draws back, then darts forward with an open jaw, snapping her teeth shut directly in front of my nose and pelting my face with saliva.

Holy. Shit.

Someone behind us screams, then fucking runs. “No! Gwen!” Calvin shouts as the quiet girl from before breaks left, sprinting through the grass. Baide’s head swings, tracking the movement, and my heart sinks as she drops her jaw, the side of her tongue visible ahead of me as it curls—

“Down!” Liam shouts, a note of panic in his voice as Xaden bolts after Gwen, catching her within a few strides. He yanks her back by her uniform in the same way I’d snatched Dyre from the front, all but throwing her at Calvin as I drop to the grass like Liam ordered. The girl stumbles to the ground at Calvin’s feet just as Baide’s nostrils flare.

A panicked sound escapes my throat and I can’t help but turn my head, watching Xaden throw himself as far and fast as possible to the side, hitting the ground in a roll as heat consumes the air around us. I close my eyes like I can block out the sound of screaming from behind me and pray. Please, please, please.

For all my hesitancy, I’d been charmed by Xaden Riorson and I’d only just started getting to know him. I don’t want him to die. It would be unfair for him to die for someone else’s mistakes like that. Fire rages past and I can barely think. I fight to keep my heart from seizing. I haven’t known this type of terror since Tairn began channeling, and definitely not since I manifested my signet.

The blast ceases, and Baide snaps her jaws shut, then swings her massive head in front of us one more time before crouching deeply and launching directly over us. I drop my gaze as her poison-barbed tail comes within a foot of me…and then she’s gone. Immediately I’m on my feet, sprinting in the direction Xaden had thrown himself.

Liam is two steps ahead of me, flying over the scorched ground, and he heaves a sigh of relief as he lays eyes on his friend; sitting up gingerly, completely intact, no burns to speak of. He holds out a hand and Xaden clasps it in his own, allowing the man he calls ‘brother’ to haul him to his feet. I swallow hard.

I don’t know what comes over me in that moment, whether it’s fear or rage, or some strange combination of both, but I can’t seem to stop myself from turning on my heel and shouting at the terrified infantry, “and that is why you don’t fucking run!”

⚜️

“Admit it,” Xaden says later the following evening, his thigh pressed against mine where we sit by the river, a plate of cooked rabbit shared between us. “You were worried about me.” He’s been trying to get me to confess for the entirety of the last day out here, while we’d wandered aimlessly, hoping by some miracle to find the extraction point.

We don’t and I think it’s clear to everyone now that we aren’t going to—all because we didn’t stop to make sure we weren’t given two different fucking maps. It’s infuriating and humiliating in equal measure. I hate failing things.

“I wasn’t worried. I don’t even know you.” I bluff. I think it’s also clear that I do, in fact, care given the way I’d yelled at the rest of the terrified soldiers yesterday afternoon. That doesn’t mean I’m going to admit it.

“You know me.” He smiles and the curve of those gorgeous lips is almost enough to get me to swear by anything he has to say. “You know my favourite food”—chocolate cake, he’d informed me with a self-satisfied smile—“my favourite place”—a hillside in Aretia—“the weapons I like to use…you know me.” I look down at the plate in my lap, a little abashed.

I do know those things, he’d told me all of them today while we’d walked and he’d shown more interest again in me, than annoyance at the fact that we were stuck out here and have clearly failed the exercise. Something about that bothers me, just a little. He’s so…open, at least on the surface. It makes him frighteningly perfect—which means there’s definitely at least half a dozen skeletons in his closet.

“Fine.” I finally admit. “I was worried, ok? Are you happy?”

“Yes.” He says, his voice deep and smooth, and goosebumps break out on my arms.

We have no clue where the hell we are, my feet are aching with blisters long since formed and popped, my bones ache from sleeping on the ground last night and here I am getting all turned on at the sound of a man’s voice. There must be something wrong with me.

“Doesn’t it bother you? How badly we’ve failed?” I ask exasperatedly, picking at the last of my rabbit. For all he hadn’t cared to make an effort at steering the group today or the day before, he’s an excellent provider. In the time I’d been on watch and later bathing in a nearby stream with Rhiannon and Brisa, he and another of his unit had managed to snare enough wildlife to feed us all. Maybe not enough for us to be full, but it was still a feat I could marvel over. We have a lot we can learn from the infantry.

“It’s just a test.” He shrugs. “Why should it?” The answer is mildly infuriating.

“This is important.” I protest, feeling a little put out. “It’s especially important for you, given you’re more likely to be on the ground.” Infantry don’t die at Basgiath at the same rate riders do, but after graduation that’s another story. The war devours them.

“Sure.” He agrees easily. “And I know how to do it.” He shrugs. “Just because I didn’t this one time, doesn’t mean that I can’t when it matters.” He says it like it’s simple math for him, like none of this really matters at all and honestly, I wish I could be like him—so self-assured. I’d give anything to feel capable; like no matter what, I could survive.

“This isn’t really a test of land navigation, Violence.” He smirks, reaching out to take my plate, putting it in the grass beside him. “It’s a test of teamwork.” His hand settles on my knee. “They wanted to know that we could put aside our differences and work together.”

“And we failed.” I repeat.

“Some of them did.” His hand creeps higher, fingertips sliding over my leathers, just brushing the inside of my thigh. “I think we’re doing a pretty good job of it.” His eyes are smouldering. “Though if you wanted some more practice I wouldn’t be opposed.” Fuck. My body gives an involuntary shiver.

I glance further down the riverbank, taking in the rest of the group scattered around, either talking, eating or getting ready to try and catch at least a few hours of broken sleep. No one’s looking at us. Xaden’s hand trails up the inner seam of my leathers, rubbing small circles and I feel my breath start to come faster as I turn, my eyes locking with his.

I’m sure my pupils are completely blown as I take in the way the shadows seem to swirl around him, cast by the distant firelight, and the once-again wicked curve of those plush lips. For a moment, my imagination runs away from me and I imagine them on my skin…in place of his hand. My lips part involuntarily and he dips his head. “Come, Violence.” His teeth nip gently at my ear and a breathy moan escapes me against my will. The double entendre is not lost on me.

He jerks tilts his head to the side, as if gesturing away from the campfire and stands gracefully, holding a hand out. It’s clear what he’s asking, what he has planned, and I know it’s a very, very bad idea. I glance back one more time, trepidation making my heart race. It’s the middle of the damn woods. This is completely irresponsible, I tell myself, and the Violet of last year would never have even considered it, but now…

I tilt my head up and find him watching me patiently, waiting for me to decide what I’m going to do. Ever-so-slowly, I slip my hand into his. He twines our fingers together, pulling me gently to my feet and then silently begins to lead me away, through the trees. We walk only far enough in to have some warning should anybody come looking for us and when he presses me back against a tree, his hands dropping to my hips, I let out a startled squeak.

He swallows the sound, covering my lips with his. I moan softly, tilting my head back in surrender as he kisses me deeply—thoroughly. His massive hands creep up from my hips to my breasts, following the curve of my body over the dragonscale armour. Every hard line of his body is pressed against me and I gasp as he pulls at my lower lip with his teeth.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous, Violence.” He presses a leg between my own and I whimper, my knees falling apart as he pushes until I can feel his muscles flexing beneath me. One of his hands slides down to my hip while the other reaches up to tangle in my hair, tugging gently at my scalp as he pulls my head back, kissing his way down my jaw.

“Fuck.” I whisper, reaching up to dig my fingernails into his back, doing anything I can to resist the urge to roll my hips like some kind of harlot. “Fuck.” I repeat again. “Riorson, I don’t—”

“Xaden.” He interrupts, his breath hot on the shell of my ear before he attaches his lips to the sweet spot below it, sucking gently on my skin.

“Oh.” I moan, probably a little too loudly in the still night air.

“Careful, Violence.” He murmurs, his hands falling to my thighs where I’m still spread over him. “You don’t want anyone to hear you, do you?” I whimper, my back arching instinctively as he slides his hands up, grasping my hips and pulling them down, forcing me to rock against his leg. He keeps his hands there, guiding my hips as he attaches his lips to mine again, slipping his tongue inside my mouth.

I melt into his arms in submission, allowing him to explore every inch of my mouth. It’s only once his hands fall to the button of my pants that I hesitate once more, a bolt of anxiety shooting through me despite the fact that I’m dripping with arousal, need coiling tight in my gut. “I-I don’t know that this is a good idea.” I pant, his hair brushing against my cheek as he kisses his way down my chest to the top of my corset.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asks, peering up at me. Gods, no. But…

“I don’t usually—”

“Let men eat you out in the middle of the woods?” My pulse skitters, my mouth falling open as I stare. Is that what he plans to—

His eyes hold mine as he laves his tongue over my skin, dipping it into the valley between my breasts. He sucks marks into my pale flesh, moving his tongue in slow circles, almost like a taunt.

“Yes.” I breathe, an answer and a capitulation in one. My eyes flutter shut. The bark from the tree is digging into my back and I’m weak at the knees, held up only by his hands and the leg pressed between my own, but all I can focus on is the feel of him, of his tongue.

“Violence,” he says again, his voice firmer this time. “Do you want me to stop or do you want my mouth on you?” When I glance back down, his expression is stern and a red flush creeps up my neck. I can feel my cheeks burning as he waits, his hands unnervingly still on the button of my leathers. “Violence?” There’s an edge to it now, something darker lingering beneath the normally smooth tone.

“Your mouth.” It escapes me before I can think better of it and I tilt my head back, mortified. “Your mouth, please.”

“Good girl.” Arousal slams through me and I whimper, my hips rocking forward despite my best efforts. His hands slide beneath my waistband and my gut tightens as he starts rolling my leathers down my hips, taking my underwear with them. It’s the cool night air that has me whimpering more than anything else, squirming uncomfortably in his grip. What am I doing? Then his fingers slide upward through my arousal and I’m moaning, long and loud into the night.

“Shh,” he chides, rising to press his lips to the side of my neck. “You need to keep quiet, Violence.” He murmurs, dragging his fingers through my wetness as he circles my clit. “You don’t want anyone to hear you, do you?” I squeeze my eyes shut, shaking my head. “Good.” My chest heaves as he slowly slides a finger inside me, his thumb slipping upward to take over the previous movement, rolling slow, gentle circles over my clit.

I buck against him, my hips jerking forward of their own accord. My hands are still holding onto whatever part of him they can reach, and as he works marks into my throat, he slips another finger in beside the second, crooking them up. “O-oh.” I moan, “oh fuck.”

“So sensitive, Violence.” He croons, his voice low and sensual in my ear. “It’s been a while, hmm?” It has, not that he has any way of knowing that. “So tight around my fingers, sweet thing.” I shudder against him, eyes shut, rolling my hips in encouragement.

“Do they not treat you right in the Riders Quadrant?” He presses me more firmly against the tree. “Is there no one there who can satisfy you?” I squirm against him, and I know he can feel the way I tighten, muscles contracting in pleasure around his fingers. He flicks lightly at my clit, and I collapse into him, grasping at his arms with my fingernails.

“Please.” I beg, a little too loudly.

“Please?” When I finally manage to open my eyes, forcing myself to look at him once more, he’s smirking and I grit my teeth. He draws his fingers free, slowly sliding them up over my skin, leaving a trail of glistening arousal behind. I take a moment to catch my breath before leaning up on my toes, curling my hands around the back of his neck.

I feel the absence of him keenly as I lick my way into his mouth, arching up against his leg. He’s hard in his leathers and I slide one hand down his front, cupping the confined length of his cock. “Riorson,” I whisper against his lips, and he stills. “Get on your fucking knees.” My boot sweeps out behind him and I pull it back, knocking him off balance. There’s nowhere for him to go but down as I put pressure on his shoulders, my hands at the base of his neck.

He falls to his knees in the dirt and for a moment the expression on his face is pure shock—eyes wide, lips parted—but it quickly turns to something more heated. Appreciation. Desire. Worship. He locks eyes with me, pupils blown, and then slowly slides his knees out, sinking lower and lower until his face is level with—“oh, fuck.” I moan, biting down on the back of my hand as he flattens his tongue and buries his face between my thighs.

He wastes no time in sucking my clit into his mouth, rolling his tongue over it as he moans lightly, the sound vibrating through me. He laps at me like a man starved, alternating in pressure as he works me into a hot mess with tongue and teeth. My heart hammers in my chest and my knees weaken as he pulls away from my swollen clit, sitting back on his haunches. His lips are glistening.

“I’m sure you can manage to be quiet on your own, Violence.” He reaches up for my hands, leaving my mouth uncovered as he guides them both down to tangle in his hair. My fingers tighten on the silky stands, tugging lightly as he shuffles closer to me, slipping his hands up to cup my ass. “Be a good girl and keep them there.” A strangled whimper escapes as he proceeds to flatten his tongue once more and devour me.

He wraps his arms around my thighs, pulling me in so I’m practically sitting on his face as he settles in like there’s nowhere he’d rather be. At some point, in between stroking me with his tongue and scraping gently over my clit with his teeth, he slips two fingers back inside me.

“So nice and quiet for me, Vi.” He murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss to my inner thigh and I whimper, bucking against him. “Good girl.” I’ve long since given up any pretence of control, tears gathering in the corners of my eyes as he pauses for the third time, somehow knowing I’m close. My walls pulse around his fingers and I gasp, fighting for air as he curls his fingers up, pressing them against my spongey inner wall.

“You taste so fucking good.” His voice is so low it’s almost inaudible as he slowly draws his fingers out before pressing them back in deep. My own fingers tighten in his hair as he returns his mouth to my throbbing clit, swirling his tongue.

“Please.” I whisper. I can hear the clanging of pans in the distance and I know for certain that soon enough someone will come looking for us and I don’t think I can handle being interrupted. I need him. “Please, please, please.”

“Shh.” He stares up at me reverently, lifting one of my legs over his shoulder. I curse and whimper as he splays his fingers, spreading me open even wider. Gods, I don’t even know that I want his mouth anymore, all I’m thinking about is his cock, but we don’t have time.

“Xaden, please.” I give in, using his name to try and spur him into action. Fire pools in my gut, the ache between my thighs painful enough to have me begging.

“Quiet, beautiful.” He warns, his eyes flashing in the moonlight. “Unless you want everyone to hear you come apart?” At this point I just want to come and he knows it. I could have come at least three times already, but he’s made it his mission to torment me. I tug hard on his hair.

A choked sob lodges in my throat. “I need to come.” I whisper.

He lowers his head, moving his tongue over me in quick, fast circles and my body starts to tingle all the way down to my toes as that coil grows tighter and tighter. If I had access to my power right now, lightning would be crashing—it would have been two almost-orgasms ago actually—and for the first time this weekend I’m glad I’m cut off.

He pulls his mouth away again and I’m about to scream in frustration, but he quickly replaces it with his thumb, resting his cheek on my inner thigh as he draws quick circles over my clit and murmurs, “I’d love to see you come all over my cock.”

I have just enough sense of mind to tear one hand away from his hair, holding it against my mouth as I come with a yell, hips jerking wildly in his grasp. It slams through me, wave after wave of it setting my nerves alight as I gasp and tremble, my vision darkening for the briefest of moments. He coaxes me through it, still settled in the cradle of my hips as he places delicate kisses up the inside of my thighs.

“Oh—Oh gods,” I pant as I come down, all energy escaping me as I sag in his grip. His fingers slip free to circle my oversensitive nerves teasingly and I whimper, a quiet sound, low in the back of my throat. “We—we don’t have time to go again.” I pant and he cracks a grin.

“Don’t worry,” He says quietly, hand falling away as he hauls himself to his feet. “I’ll save the thought for next time.” The thought? I’d love to see you come all over my cock, he’d said. Oh.

“You didn’t—” I begin, but I’m cut off by his lips on mine, a kiss so gentle it might have seemed innocent if it weren’t for the fact that I could taste myself on his lips.

“I had fun playing with you.” He whispers in my ear, voice low, and I can feel against my skin the way his lips have curled up in a smirk. “Next time, I promise not to tease.”

My spine arches against my will. “Next time?”

“Come now, Violence.” He says, his hands stroking over the bare skin of my hips. “You don’t think there’ll be a next time?” He nips lightly at my ear. “You’d take my cock so well.” I moan, digging my fingers into his back as he pulls my leathers back into place, fastening them securely. “I can just see you spread out for me,” he trails a hand up my side, cupping my breast before dipping his thumb beneath the line of my corset, “these on display for me to look at while I—”

“I’m going to stay on the other side of this tree.” Liam Mairi’s voice rings out and I startle, my eyes blowing wide. “I took one for the team, coming to find you guys, but I do not need to know what you might or might not have been doing.” My cheeks flush bright red and I swallow hard, burying my face in my hands.

“Nothing!” I call out, my voice a little too high-pitched. “Nothing happened. We were just…talking!” When I pull my hands away, Xaden’s lips are twitching and his shoulders shake with silent laughter. I slam my fist into his side.

“Sure.” Liam says dryly. “Because when I said off-limits, he definitely listened.” I hear leaves crunch beneath his boots as he walks away, back in the direction of the camp. Fuck. My squad leader—my friend—knows I just got off in the middle of the woods, during an exam no less…fuck, The Marquess of Aretia just ate me out in the woods. A strangled sound escapes my throat. I wish I had my signet power back so I could incinerate myself on the spot.

“As I was saying—” I punch him in the side again.

“Don’t.” I glare up at him murderously, loathing the self-satisfied smirk on his face. “Not a word.”

“So violent,” he mutters.

Mortified as I am, when he offers to share his bedroll with me later that night, I don’t object. Only infantry carry those supplies at all times and it might not be much, but it’s at least something to help cushion my fragile joints. At least, that’s what I tell myself.

⚜️

A convoy of horses and wagons arrives the next morning, as do the professors, who have choice words for our failure. “You were in the Hadden Woods, though none of you could work together long enough to figure it out. It’s apparent that we have a lot to learn from each other.” Grady hands each rider a waterskin and smiles as the infantry professor does the same for her cadets.

Honestly, I’m happy to take the chiding. It means no one from my squad had time to harass me about Xaden—and you can be sure they would have, given the chance. “Seeing as you were our top squads, I can’t deny that I’m disappointed, but at least you all survived. We wanted to see how you’d make do this first time out, and now we know.”

I bristle slightly as I drink from the proffered waterskin. We almost didn’t all make it. Xaden almost died for this stupid exercise, as if he or any of the infantry will have to worry about hostile dragons.

As if to prove my thoughts wrong, the blanket thrown over my dragon bond lifts and power rushes through my veins right as Tairn slams into the ground behind me, lowering his head with a growl. The horses prance nervously and I roll my eyes as I feel a hot puff of air on the back of my neck. “Stop it!” I hiss as I turn, finding him with his face lowered, jaws snapping directly in front of Xaden’s face.

A lesser man would have shifted nervously, maybe even taken a step to the side, but the dark-haired soldier only freezes, keeping his eyes averted, but his spine straight. “Tairn!” I hiss, completely embarrassed. “You’re causing a scene!” I don’t need the professors of all people speculating on why Tairn is snapping at the Duke of Aretia’s son like that—that is if Aoife hasn’t reported on our closeness already.

“That is not an accusation you get to make after last night, Silver One.” My stomach sinks with dread.

“W-what?”

“The concoction you drank was a one-way veil.” He answers and the pit in my stomach intensifies. “I could hear you and sense you, but you could not reply.”

“Oh gods,” I say aloud, before pressing my lips together, mortification washing over me from my head to my toes. It’s not as if I haven’t felt things through the bond from his side before, but the fact that I had been completely oblivious, not able to even attempt to block him in the least… “I’m so sorry.” I apologise. “Please don’t eat him.”

Tairn huffs.

“Can I look now?” Xaden says dryly, slowly inching his gaze upwards.

“You can look.” As if to refute my words, Tairn growls, baring his teeth. “He’s not going to do anything.” I say pointedly, arching a brow at my Black Morningstartail. “This is Tairn.”

I notice Xaden remains deferential, still not looking the dragon in the eye. Smart man. “It’s an honour.”

My lips twitch with amusement. “I suppose he’s not the worst choice for a mate, unlike the last one.” Tairn grumbles in my mind and I groan internally. Between him, Andarna, and my squadmates, I’ll never live down the unfortunate crush I used to have on Dain. “Sgaeyl likes this one at least.” My jaw drops.

“She doesn’t even like me!” I hiss, keeping my thoughts well away from that shimmering gleam of blue in my mind. “And you brought her in here?!” If I were able to depict my body in my mental Archives, I’d be gesturing wildly, though I think he gets the point.

“You brought her in here.” He says pointedly and I begin contemplating that lightning strike again, since there’s no viable way for the earth beneath my feet to swallow me up.

“Violence?” Xaden asks, looking at me with concern.

“It’s nothing.” I murmur. “He likes you.” I lie. Tairn huffs, disproving my statement immediately, but Xaden’s lips curl upward all the same.

“Sure he does, Violence.”

⚜️

Two weeks after that terrible—amazing, mindblowing—godawful excursion in the Hadden Woods, Rhiannon pulls me from my studies and drags me off-campus, leading me down the hill into Chantara; Ridoc, Sawyer, and Liam in tow. “You’re going to love it.” She says, swinging her arm over my shoulders, practically hauling me after her to the largest Tavern in town. “You can study later.”

I roll my eyes fondly, leaning into her side. I don’t want to tell her that I’m not so much studying as I am trying to figure out what the hell is going on that our leadership as so desperate to keep secret—the Archives being messed with is no joke and I wish, with a pang in my heart, that my father were still here for me to ask about it.

When the four of them had originally begun sneaking down here it was at night, with the cover of darkness to prevent them from being noticed. Now, though, partway through the year, it’s become evident that the ban isn’t something that’s generally enforced—no one really cares to check whether you’re visiting a temple or a tavern, certainly not Panchek.

So here we are, in the middle of the day on a Sunday, in broad daylight. Even once we enter the tavern, the strong sunlight filters through the large glass windows, lighting up the patrons inside, all in various states of merriment. I smile at the feel of it on my skin, having worn only my short-sleeved uniform shirt today.

In only a few seconds I’m left alone, standing there with my arms crossed over my chest, smiling in amusement as my squad flit off in different directions. I tap my foot slightly, waiting. After a minute, Ridoc’s pressing a glass of lavender lemonade into my hand, Liam at his side, and Rhiannon is returning with Sawyer; a handful of darts in her grasp, upheld toward the ceiling in victory.

I arch a brow. “Darts.” I say, completely unamused.

“Oh please.” Ridoc rolls his eyes. “Drink that.” He waves his hand imperiously. I smirk in amusement, downing half the glass in one go. “All of it.” He waits, watching me sternly until I cave, but only because there’s another glass in his hand already. When I finish, he swaps them out, passing me the new beverage. “There.” He turns to Rhi. “Even playing field.”

I snort, shaking my head.

“You get to go last.” Sawyer dictates, “so that drink has time to take effect.” I glance over my shoulder at Liam, but he only smiles down at me in amusement.

“Fine.” I smirk. “Go on, then.” I take a seat on a bar stool behind me, sipping slowly at the purple concoction in my hand while the others all take turns throwing darts. Liam’s score is the best so far, having gotten all but one in the middle circle of the board. He’s closely followed by Ridoc and then Sawyer and Rhiannon, the latter of whom have both preferred swords lately, so that makes sense I suppose.

“Is it my turn yet?” I ask, putting my drink down and sliding from my stool. It’s gotten busier in the last hour or so since we entered, patrons packing into the establishment in droves both from the other quadrants at Basgiath and the surrounding township. Thankfully no one’s walked in front of us yet, otherwise they might have lost an eye.

“Fine.” Ridoc huffs, knowing even if I was a little inebriated—which I’m not, really—he’s already lost to Liam. “Have at it.”

I snatch the recovered darts from his hand. “With pleasure.” I weigh them carefully, tossing one in my hand a few times to feels its weight and assess their balance. It’s entirely different throwing darts, rather than knives. Luckily for me, I have experience with both. I set myself up across from the board where the others have been standing and then I look Liam in the eye, and smirk. Pointedly, I take another step back.

My squad leader scoffs, rolling his eyes playfully, but there’s a smile on his face anyway. I turn, shaking my arm out one last time before I pull my hand back and throw. Dead centre. I throw again and again, and again. A bullseye every time, each dart offset only the smallest, fraction of a distance to make room for the rest.

“For fuck’s sake.” Ridoc huffs.

“Did you really think you were going to win against me?” I laugh, sauntering up to the board to retrieve the darts. I yank them out one by one. “Even with the—” The words die in my throat, panic surging like a wave as I feel a finger trail down my spine. Forgetting my squad are behind me, that they’d have my back no matter what, I whirl on my feet, shoving the dart up into—“fuck!” I yelp, dropping it to the floor, my fingers spasming in alarm.

Standing so close I can feel the heat of his body on mine, his fingers encircling my wrist, is Xaden Riorson. My hand is an inch away from his face. If he hadn’t caught me, I’d have driven the dart through his eye socket.

“Hello, Violence.” He smirks.

A breath of air escapes me and for a moment I feel weak in the knees. Not from looking at him, no, though he is just as handsome as I remember. I’m weak in the knees because he’s a fucking marquess and I almost put a dart through his damn eye socket. That would have been so incredibly bad. “Are you insane?!” I hiss. “You don’t sneak up on a rider!”

He only smiles patiently. “I wasn’t sneaking.”

I growl in frustration, looking past him to where my squad leader stands, an apologetic expression on his face. “I almost took out your eye.”

“No, you didn’t.” He counters easily. “I had you.”

I arch a brow and attempt to ignore the way his words cause warmth to bloom in my chest. I look him up and down derisively. “No.” I reach out a single hand, calling up the lesser magic I’ve yet to really perfect, and send it outward, directing it shove him back two steps.

He stumbles, looking surprised for a moment. A look crosses his face, something almost indiscernible, and for a brief moment his eyes shutter, his whole demeanour closing off. It’s gone as quickly as it appeared, a look of fond fascination taking its place, but I’d been quick enough to catch it, so I also catch the way the shadows linger in his eyes.

I feel bad then, an immediate, inherent understanding dawning on me. “Sorry.” I murmur, closing the distance between us. He’d wanted to be a rider more than anything and that choice was taken from him. It’s manifestly unfair given that I know he’d make a fantastic rider. I know a dragon would have chosen him.

“It’s alright, Violence.” He says carefully, reaching out a hand to cup my hip, drawing me closer. “I know you could never beat me in a fair fight.” I scoff outwardly, but accept the out for what it is, not attempting to step away. “I thought you riders were banned from Chantara—too many incidents I heard. Can’t imagine how.” He glances pointedly down to the discarded dart and I blush.

“We’re allowed to visit the temples.” I say, avoiding his first insinuation altogether. “I plan to stop by the temple of Zihnal on my back.” I lie. He grins, like he’s well aware I’m lying through my teeth and with a devilish smirk, he lets his hand slip lower on my hip, fingers brushing the curve of my ass.

“And do you plan to get lucky, Violence?” My breath stutters for a moment and I blink, staring up at him, frozen. He lifts a hand to my face, sliding his palm along my jawline until he’s cupping my chin, his thumb pulling my lower lip away from my teeth. His voice is nothing short of sensual. “I’d be happy to accompany you for…worship, if you like?”

My mouth runs dry as I remember the way he’d made my legs tremble and my nerves sing, and then inevitably, my mind turns to all the things we didn’t do. I fight to keep my eyes from wandering south. It’s fucking embarrassing how easy I am for this man.

“Well at least you’re aware of it.” Tairn sighs long-sufferingly and like lightning, I throw my shield up, walling my mind off from his. I am not looking for a repeat of last time, thank you very much. Well…that aspect of it anyway.

“I don’t know if your continued silence is a good thing, or a bad thing.” He murmurs patiently and I blink, my eyes refocusing. His thumb is still pressing just past my lips. A shaky breath escapes me and I can’t help but dart my tongue out, running it over his skin. His eyes darken. “Violence…”

“Yes.” I say immediately, the words escaping before my brain can even really consider the consequences. “Yes.”

“Perfect.” His hands slide down to cup my ass and he hauls me in, pressing my body against his as he dips his head to kiss me. In broad daylight. In the middle of a bar, occupied by at least a hundred people from every damn quadrant at Basgiath. Prick. I rise up on my toes anyway, because if there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s give as good as I get.

He’d been unquestionably in charge last time, taking control of the situation, of me, and I’d been all too happy to oblige. Now though, something indignant sparks to life in my chest. I want to devour him. I kiss him back fiercely, stroking over his tongue with my own, my hands sliding up underneath his shirt. I’m startled to note he’s wearing armour, though I guess I shouldn’t be surprised—someone of his standing and wealth, at a war college? Of course he has protection.

One of his hands slides up my side, just skimming the underside of my breast and I pull back, panting softly. “In public?” I ask, catching my breath.

He smirks. “How else am I supposed to let everyone know you’re off-limits?” I scoff, pushing at his chest with my hand.

“Someone’s a little sure of themselves.”

He grins, leaning down to nip at my ear. “Were you left unsatisfied last time?” He asks, his voice husky and low in my ear. “It certainly felt like you enjoyed it, the way you tightened around my—”

“Ok!” I press my legs together and turn my head, my nose brushing against his cheek. “Either we’re leaving now or I’m finding someone else to help me out.” I threaten half-heartedly, meeting his eyes. His self-satisfied smile never wavers, but he takes my hand anyway, leading me toward the exit.

I turn back just once, looking for my squadmates, and catch Rhiannon’s eye. “Have fun,” she mouths at me and I flush, swinging my head around to face the door again. It’s still sunny outside when we head up the rocky path and Xaden twines his fingers through mine so our hands are laced together, just like they were that night in the Hadden Woods.

“Where are we going?” I ask as we reach the main campus and peel off, but I already know the answer; I know this place like the back of my hand. We’re headed for the infantry barracks. What I’m really asking is if he really expects me to do anything with him in a place with such little privacy. “I’m not an exhibitionist.”

He stops, a look of surprise on his face, and then snorts, shaking his head. “Could have fooled me.”

My jaw drops and he moves to continue on his way, but I’m not going anywhere. “No, no. Wait a second.” I protest. “There were extenuating circumstances before. I’m not doing anything where someone is likely to walk in—” He presses a finger to my lip, silencing me.

“Violence.” He says patiently, the hint of a smile dancing on his lips. “That’s good to know, but unnecessary. I have my own room.”

“Oh.” For a second my brain is still spinning, trying to recalibrate, and then things click into place. “You’re a squad leader.” He leads me through the edges of their campus and I keep my head down, trying to avoid the stares. I’d forgotten about the rather obvious insignia on the shoulder of his uniform.

“Yes.” He says simply, leading me into a building and up a flight of stairs, and another, halfway down a hall until we’re at a perfectly normal looking door, which he opens…with a key. I blink twice. It’s such a strange disconnect, the way I look at things like this now—things that were once second nature to me, that now feel foreign. Of course he needs a key—he doesn’t have magic. I quickly recover, schooling my expression lest I remind him again of what could have been.

When the door swings open, he tugs me gently inside and then locks it again behind us, but I don’t pay much attention—my eyes are on the opposite side of the room, trained on the open door across from his bed. “Your squad leaders get their own bathrooms?!” I gape. That’s so unfair. Even our wingleaders don’t have their own bathrooms.

He snorts. “No, but aristocracy do.” When I turn around he’s waiting, well-muscled arms crossed over his chest.

“That’s even more unfair,” I grumble, crossing the room to stick my head in. It’s simple—small, but wow, what a luxury.

He follows and then those muscled arms are wrapped around me, pulling my body back into his as he leans down to whisper in my ear. “Are you complaining about something that will benefit you?” His breath is warm on my skin and when he nudges my head to the side with his own, sucking gentle kisses down my neck, I melt into his arms, my answer breathy.

“No.”

“Mmm.” He hums, reaching for the bottom of my shirt. “Didn’t think so. ” When he moves to pull my shirt off, I lift my arms helpfully, not fighting him in the least. I move to turn around, but he stops me with a hand on the small of my back, and I feel his fingers begin to expertly unlace my corset.

His movements are slow, all soft touches and barely there kisses and I feel want, need building inside me slowly, like fire licking at my insides. It’s only when he’s finally divested me of my chest bindings that he lets me turn, his hands skating up my sides in featherlight touches, desire clear in his eyes as he looks down, eyes fixated on all the skin he’d revealed.

“Beautiful.” He murmurs and my breath hitches as he brushes his thumbs over my nipples. Goosebumps break out on my arms and I shiver despite the warmth of the sun filtering in through his window, covered only by gauzy curtains. He leans down again, capturing my lips with his own. His arms wind around me, picking me up off my feet as he pulls at my lower lip with his teeth.

I’ve kissed other men before, but none of them compare to Xaden Riorson. He’s wildfire—all encompassing, devouring me until I can barely breathe, barely think. My nipples brush against the soft material of his shirt as my spine bows and I press forward into his hold. He pulls away to lay gentle kisses along my jawline, continuing on down my neck and when he sucks a mark into my throat, a breathy moan escapes my lips. “Oh!”

“You like that?” He murmurs, grazing just lightly with his teeth. “You can be as loud as you want this time, Violence.” He sets me back on my feet, his hands falling to the button at the front of my leathers. I make a noise of protest, batting his hands away, and reach for his own shirt.

“You don’t have sound shielding.” I tell him as he helps to pull his shirt over his head, tossing it on the floor. He quickly strips away his armour, barely giving me a second glance at it and throws that aside too. For the first time, I’m seeing more of that tawny skin, all of it stretched over rippling muscles—scars here and there, marring the perfect expanse. There’s more than one tattoo covering the length of his arm and up his side, the ink a stark contrast to his deep, tawny skin. He’s…achingly beautiful.

My heart speeds up as I stare. I want him. He reaches out, his finger tipping my chin up and I flush, wide-eyed hazel meeting amused onyx. “I don’t care if this whole damn quadrant hears you.” He replies, his voice low. “I want them all to know that you’re mine.” My lips part as his fingers slip back into the waistband of my leathers, tugging me roughly forward. Slowly, he holds my gaze and then lowers himself to the floor.

“You liked this too,” he says, kissing the skin over my ribs as he drags my leathers and undergarments down my legs inch by inch. “Would you like a repeat performance, Violence?”

“Riorson,” I breathe, my fingers automatically tangling in his hair.

“Xaden.” He corrects, tilting his head back, pleasure clear on his face. “Call me Xaden.” He stares back at me, eyes smouldering.

“Xaden.” I repeat, exhaling shakily and he smirks, no doubt hearing the tremor in my voice.

“I can take my time with you now, Violence.” He murmurs, his lips dropping gentle kisses to my thighs as his hands splay over my hips, pressing me back against the wall. “No one will interrupt us, no matter how many times you cry out.” He peers up at me reverently. “I can bring you to the edge again and again.”

“Xaden.”

“That’s it,” he praises and I’d been so focused on his words, on the press of his lips, that I hadn’t noticed him undoing my boots. Carefully, he helps me out of them one by one before finally sliding off my leathers and with them, my remaining weaponry. When I’m completely bare before him, he rises to his feet, cradling my hips in his hands.

“You’re so gorgeous.” He whispers, kissing me soundly. All too eager, I surge up onto my toes, opening my mouth to him. My heart skips a beat at the feel of his skin on mine, my breasts pressed to his torso, and I quickly reach for his pants. His soft lips move over mine slowly, sensually as he bats my hands away, quickly and efficiently stripping away the remains of his uniform until he’s completely naked opposite me.

My stomach tilts and I swallow hard, trailing my eyes over him. I think I was probably right in my first assessment—he was crafted by the gods—every single inch of him. His lips curl up in amusement and my cheeks heat as I realise I’ve been staring when he calls my name softly. “Vi,” his hand reaches out to me, “come here.”

I go immediately, stepping into his space as he takes my hand, pulling me towards the bed. He lays me out on my back, crawling up the sheets until he’s hovering above me and for a brief moment I feel disappointment. Two weeks I’ve been dreaming about him—about his tongue, his hands, what his skin would feel like on mine—and in none of those dreams did I imagine him giving the same, boring experience as every other infantry soldier I’ve slept with over the years.

Slowly, he lowers his head, breathing me in as he drops his mouth to the base of my throat, sucking soft marks into the skin between my neck and shoulder. My breath stutters and I tilt my head to the side automatically. His hands slide slowly over my skin, drawing soft circles over my breasts and I let out a soft moan, arching my spine.

His mouth trails further south, his hands too, until he’s laving over a nipple with his tongue, his fingers tracing teasingly over the skin of my inner thighs. When he’s worked his way down to my belly, he rises until he’s kneeling above me, his head tilted. I blink my eyes back open, looking down.

My stomach swoops as I take in the size of him. His cock is definitely girthier than any I’ve taken before and I’ll never admit it but…I have concerns. When he makes no move to lower his head again, his thumbs only drawing soft circles on the sensitive skin of my pelvis, I frown. “Are you waiting for something?” I demand.

He chuckles softly, the gentle movement of his thumbs never ceasing. “I’m waiting on you, Violence.” I don’t understand.

“Are you with me again?” How did he know I’d checked out? I had been enjoying myself, in a relaxed kind of way, I’d just…

“There you are.” His fingers slip down, dragging achingly slowly between my folds. My hips cant off the bed and he chuckles again, using his free hand to press me into the mattress. “Stay there, Violence and let me have my fun.” Oh. I should have realised he wouldn’t be like everyone else.

He eyes me knowingly, two fingers tracing gently up and around my throbbing clit. “You thought I was just going to stick it in and get it over with?” He asks with a scoff, sliding his hand down to push a single finger inside me. I inhale sharply, my pulse thrumming as I squirm. “Has no one ever treated you right?”

I whimper as he pulls back, withdrawing that slick finger to circle my nerves again. I’m breathing far too heavily for us to have only gotten this far and he pauses, looking down at me with dark eyes. “Answer the question, Violence.”

The question? My hips buck, seeking out his touch against my will and I try to think. “No,” I breathe, feeling a flush creep down my neck and to my chest. He hums soothingly, leaning up over me to bring our lips together again. I gasp against his mouth as his fingers restart their movements, rolling slow, languid circles over my clit.

“Don’t worry,” his teeth tug on my lower lip, “I’ll take care of you, beautiful.”

“Xaden,” I gasp, my arms twining around his neck, fingers threading into his hair. He slips two fingers inside me, curling them up and then twists his hand, dragging them in and out slowly.

“You’re so wet for me, Violence.” He murmurs against my lips and I stare back at him through hooded eyes. “Have you been dreaming about me?” He lets his palm graze over my clit every time he curls his fingers up and I roll my hips upward, chasing that glorious friction. “When you wake up dripping is it from the memory of my mouth on you? My tongue dragging you right to the edge—”

“Oh, gods,” I moan, a loud cry compared to the soft murmur of his voice as his fingers slide in deeper.

His voice is low and husky against my ear as he curls his fingers up again and again. “Which one are you calling out for?” His teeth scrape over my skin teasingly. “Because it’s just you and me in this room, Vi, and I don’t share.”

I moan again, pleasure coiling tighter and tighter in my gut. “You.” My hands clutch him to me desperately. “I’m calling out for you.”

I can feel his smile against my throat as he splays his fingers, stretching me wider as his palm rubs over my clit. “I appreciate the elevation to deity, but my name will do.”

“Xaden,” I gasp in response, my breath coming faster as he brings me to the edge and then unceremoniously tips me over it. “Xaden!” I cry out and as my hips jerk, power rushes through me and every nerve in my body lights up. Thunder booms, shaking the panelled glass in his windows and as my climax rolls over me in continual waves, lightning flashes outside in broad daylight.

When I finally find it in me to blink my eyes open, panting for breath, Xaden’s staring wide-eyed. Slowly, he looks from me, to the window, and back again. “Was that—” He silences himself abruptly, clearly reading the answer in my mortified expression, and a slow, devious smirk tilts his lips. “Oh sweetheart, you’ve been holding out on me.”

He rolls his thumb over my clit once more, watching my face with rapt fascination as I jerk, tightening around his fingers. My legs are still trembling and I drop my hands away from him to clutch at the sheets.

“I didn’t have my power last time, remember?” I gasp out reluctantly. The serum had meant there was no chance of that happening during our little excursion in the woods, otherwise there’d be no way of keeping what we were doing quiet—not that it wasn’t obvious anyway, once we’d stumbled back into camp together disheveled.

“I haven’t noticed any oddly-timed thunderstorms lately,” the smirk is still curving his lips as he draws his fingers out and back up to my clit, dropping his face to the valley of my breasts. He presses wet kisses over my skin, moving down, down, down until his lips are resting just over my hip.

I don’t know if fire is pooling in my gut again or if it never actually left in the first place. “I—I don’t always—” I fight to get the words out, my head falling back as he spreads my thighs wider, settling himself between them.

“You don’t always come?” He asks softly, his fingers slow and gentle in their movements as he strokes. I can’t help but rock my hips, matching the rhythm of his hand. “Don’t worry, Violence.” He lowers his head. “I’m going to get you there over and over.”

His mouth seals around my swollen clit and I cry out, shaking apart all over again not even a second later. He laps at me languidly, flattening his tongue over my sensitive nerves, and I’m hardly quiet in my appreciation. “Xaden,” I moan, burying my hands in his hair. “I need you.”

He sucks at me gently before tilting his face back up, his lips glistening. Arousal coils impossibly tighter in my abdomen and my hands slip down to cup his cheeks. “You have me.” He kisses the inside of my palm sweetly, but that does nothing for the ache between my thighs and my mounting desperation to feel him.

“Xaden,” I whimper in frustration, “I want all of you. Now.”

He smiles, a soft chuckle escaping him as he rises to his knees, leaning over me on his elbow. “I know, beautiful.” He nips gently at my lips. “I’m just getting you ready for me.” I don’t buy the innocent look for a second. He’s having far too much fun watching me lose control.

“I’m ready.” I glare, reaching out to run my hands up his sides, given that I can’t reach his cock from this position and he’s not exactly keen on letting me up. His abdominals flex under my hands and his eyes flicker shut for a moment. “Don’t you want to be inside me?” I coo, pulling his face down to mine.

He kisses me deeply and with my hands on his chest I notice every minute twitch of his muscles, every hitch in his breath as I clench down tightly around his fingers, still inside me. He pulls back, panting, and hitches one of my legs up around his hip. I lodge my ankle at the small of his back obediently, relaxing my thighs as he drops his mouth to my ear. “You think I don’t want you?” He murmurs, beginning to slowly work in a third finger. I gasp, my head falling back into the pillows as he presses deeper.

“Oh, fuck.” I moan.

“I’ve been dreaming every night about your tight little cunt, wrapped around my cock.” He croons, and my pulse skitters. “The way you’d take me, your face twisted up all pretty as I drove into you, so deep you’d never consider letting anyone else fuck you ever again.” I moan wantonly, digging my fingernails into his skin as my blood roars in my ears, my power searching for an outlet.

“You wouldn’t, would you sweet thing?” He croons, flicking at my clit. “You know no one else will ever make you feel like I do.” I feel it cresting, washing over me in a wave of heat and then—he stops. A sob catches in my throat as he pulls back and my hips roll involuntarily, chasing the sensation he’d so cruelly torn away.

“Xaden!” I protest, emotion surging up in my chest. “Xaden, please.” I’m not above begging.

“I know,” he presses his lips to my jaw just once and then rolls us over, taking my place on the pillows. I startle a little at the movement, my knees automatically coming to rest on either side of his body. “I know, but I want to look at you.” For a moment I’m frustrated, because he’s seen—and touched—all of me, but then I realise this is an opportunity.

I run my hands down over his skin, tracing the panes of his chest with my eyes. He reaches up to my hair and carefully removes pin after pin from my messy coronet braid, letting my hair tumble down in waves over my shoulders. He combs his fingers through it and where it falls over my breasts, his gaze follows. I smile, rising up on my knees and move to shuffle backward. I freeze for a moment, calculating. “What is it?” He asks, reading the hesitation clearly on my face and I frown.

“I can’t kiss you like this.” I murmur quietly. Our height difference is far too large—I won’t be able to reach in this position.

He scoots up until he’s sitting against the headboard and opens his arms, pulling me into them, then he’s kissing me demonstratively, his hands on my hips as he carefully guides me down onto his cock. The stretch is exquisite and I realise immediately the benefit of being on top—I can set the pace.

“Fuck.” He curses against my ear and it’s so close to being a whimper that I smile, leaning in to nip playfully at his throat.

“We could have been doing this an hour ago.” I taunt, gasping as his fingernails dig into my hips. He doesn’t move—not to pull me down faster, nor to rock his hips and my heart softens a little. “You feel so fucking good inside me.” I whisper into his skin and he groans, his eyes remaining firmly shut.

When I finally manage to take all of him, I tip my head back, moaning low in my throat. “Xaden.” He wraps me in his arms, sliding his hands upward until they’re buried in my hair at the base of my neck.

“Violence,” He gasps, “please move.”

Slowly, I roll my hips, rising up on my knees before dropping back down again in his lap. He moans softly into my shoulder, his mouth warm on my skin and gods, he feels so good, but I need more. He matches my languid speed, thrusting slowly, but restrains himself from taking it any further, even when I know he wants to—his hips jerking slightly every time I move.

“Is this position for me, or you?” I finally ask, slightly breathless, “because you feel amazing, but you don’t seem like the type to want it slow.” And neither am I. I scrape my fingernails over his scalp, waiting.

“Your joints—”

My fingers dig in until it’s probably a little painful. “Are my business.” I say warningly. “Answer the question.”

“No.” He says firmly. “But—”

“Great.” I interrupt. “Me either.” I rise up on my knees and then sink back down on his cock inch by inch once more. “I appreciate the thought,” I gasp, “but this position sucks for me and if you don’t get with the program and—”

He flips us over in one smooth movement, settling in between my thighs, and I sigh in relief, relaxing back into the mattress. “Don’t spread my legs too far apart unless you want my hip dislocating, which would be awkward for both of us.” I draw my knee back, pulling him into me. He holds my gaze for a moment, as if assessing how serious I am. “Xaden!” I snap, grinding my teeth together and he finally moves.

And gods, does it feel good. So good. “Yes,” I gasp as thrusts into me, hard and deep, filling me in a way I’ve never experienced before. It doesn’t take him long to find the best angle and he wastes no time in setting a brutal pace, driving into me over and over again. It’s perfect. Every gasp and moan that falls from my mouth grows louder in the quiet of his room. My breath hitches, spine arching as my orgasm builds low in my stomach.

“Xaden, I’m so close.” I beg, my head tipping back, eyes slamming shut as power ripples beneath my skin. I’m almost too aware of the way the windowpanes have rattled with each successive clap of thunder and I try my hardest to rein it back in, trying to force it down; but it’s a fool’s errand.

“I know, Vi.” He leans down to kiss me sweetly. “It’s ok, I’ve got you.” He doesn’t, I panic. He can’t possibly—“Violence.” He snaps, drawing my eyes back to his. “Let. Go.” He thrusts only twice more before I’m shattering, power exploding outward as I shake apart in his arms. Thunder crashes outside and my heart leaps into my throat as the window shatters with it, blasting inward. Xaden’s hand is in the comforter just as fast, hauling it up and around us like a shield as he curls over me protectively.

My legs are still shaking, the last waves of my orgasm receding a minute later when I finally gather up the courage to meet his eyes, slowly blinking mine open. He’s looking down at me with an amused kind of fondness, and when he drops the comforter I blink, turning my head to face the window. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes.” He responds, his voice teasing. There is no window. I look around the bed frantically, but there’s no glass present, only…sand. “You reduced it to nothing.” He observes, his lips twitching as his hands cradle me close.

“I’m so sorry.” I worry my lower lip between my teeth. “Did you even…” Come? Yes, he clearly had.

“In case you haven’t realised yet, I find your violent tendencies incredibly attractive.” He murmurs, planting a gentle kiss on the underside of my jaw. “I came when you did. The feel of you around me—”

“Ok!” I exclaim, turning my face into his pillow to hide my reddened cheeks. “I can’t go again.” I plead, “so please stop talking.” He chuckles, kicking a leg over mine as he drops onto his side, pulling me close.

“That’s ok. There’s always next time.” He murmurs and I close my eyes in pleasure as his fingers drag through my hair, scratching lightly at my scalp.

“Next time?” I ask tiredly.

“Next time.” He confirms. “I have plans for us, Violence…though we might need to work on the light show if I ever want to replace my windows.” A soft, embarrassed sound escapes my throat. “My wards might keep us from being heard by everyone in the barracks, but your lightning on the other hand—”

“Wards?” I jolt upward, looking at him in confusion. “You said you didn’t have wards.”

He laughs. “You assumed I didn’t.” He corrects. “I just did nothing to dissuade you of that notion.” He smirks. “I liked that you didn’t care.” My face flames. “Of course I have wards,” he continues, “my best friend’s a rider.”

Oh. That makes sense. “Liam?” I say, just to confirm.

“No. Garrick.” A small smirk plays on his lips, like he knows exactly how I’m about to react and he’s relishing in it.

“Wait—what?” I gape. “You’re best friends with my wingleader?!”

“I’m friends with a lot of riders.” He smiles charmingly, “and hopefully more than friends with one in particular.”

My heart melts a little and I do my best to school my expression so I don’t let on just how easily he’s won me over. “Maybe.” I say grudgingly. “I suppose that depends.”

“On…?”

“On whether you like sharing your private bathroom.”

He grins. “I think we could work something out.”