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“My name is Tairneanach, son of Murtcuideam and Fiaclanfuil,
descended from the cunning Dubhmadinn line.”
“You are the smartest of your year. The most cunning.”
“You defended the smallest with ferocity. And strength of courage is more important than physical strength. Since you apparently need to know before we land.”
“They’re accommodations for me. I’ve seen your memories. I’m not about to have you sticking daggers into my leg to climb up. Now let’s go.”
“The closest translation for humans is probably ‘for fuck’s sake.’ Now. Are you going to stay in your seat this time?”
Xaden Riorson is kneeling before me, his black hair at the perfect level for me to run my fingers through the thickness.
“I am annoyingly aware of everything you do.”
“Fuck it.”
“Maybe it was when I saw Oren holding a knife to your throat,” he says. “Or maybe it was when I realized the bruises on your neck were fingerprints and wanted to kill them all over again just so I could do it slowly. Maybe it was the first time I recklessly kissed you or when
I realized I’m fucked because I can’t stop thinking about doing more than just kissing you.”
“Fuck, that stubborn, feisty look always makes me want to kiss you.” Xaden’s expression remains bland, bored even, but his eyes heat as his gaze drops to my mouth.
“And you say this now, where people will see if you actually do.” My breath catches. “When did I ever give you the impression that I give a fuck what people think about me?” A corner of his mouth rises, and now it’s all I can concentrate on, damn him. “I only care what they think about you.”
“You walk into a room, and I can’t look away. I get anywhere near you, and this is what happens. Instantly hard. Fucking hell, I can barely think when you’re around.”
“Fuck me, this hair,” he says, then hovers his mouth over mine. “And this mouth. All I ever want to do is kiss you, even when you piss me off.”
There’s nowhere in existence you could go that I wouldn’t find you, Violence.”
Trust me, she wasn’t looking at me, and even if she were…” He pauses, his hand slipping to cradle the back of my head as he holds us steady despite the gusting wind. “Gods help me, I’m only looking at you.”
“I fucking love your hair. If you ever want to bring me to my knees or win an argument, just let it down. I’ll get the point.”
