Fourth Wing (The Empyrean, #1)

by Rebecca Yarros

“It’s been. My honor.”

Xaden’s head bows, and my breath freezes in my lungs as shadows momentarily whip out around him, like a blast of menace and sorrow. Seconds later, his soundless, soul-rending scream fills my head with such force that my heart shatters like glass against a stone floor.

“We’re targets on the ground,” Tairn says as the wyvern flies away. “Then let’s be the ones who hunt.”

“You can kill them.” He yanks me close and kisses my forehead. “There is no me without you,” he says against my skin.

There’s no need to ask him to launch, not when our emotions are aligned like this. We want the same exact thing. Revenge.

I reach for her golden power, and it spreads down my spine and explodes through me, time pausing around us.

Damn, sometimes I forget just how beautifully lethal he is.

My back slams into something, knocking the breath from my lungs, slowing my descent but not stopping it, and shimmering gold rises and ebbs around me. Wind stills, the cries of mayhem and destruction pause, but the burn inside rages on, consuming me with fiery teeth. Time. Andarna has stopped time with what strength she has left.

It takes all my strength, but I manage to lift my eyelids for a second, and the blatant fear in his eyes jolts my heart before I lose consciousness.

“I don’t give a fuck what happens to me!” Xaden yells at someone. “We are going and that’s an order.”

“No need for orders, man. We’ll save her.” That’s Bodhi. I think.

Love me some Bodhi

“Live up to your nickname and fight this, Violence,” Xaden whispers against my ear. Then he says louder, to someone farther away, “We have to get her to him. We ride.”

“You have to fight, Vi,” Xaden whispers against my forehead as we move. “You can hate me all you want when you wake up. You can scream, hit, throw your fucking daggers at me for all I care, but you have to live. You can’t make me fall for you and then die. None of this is worth it without you.” He sounds so sincere that I almost believe him.

It’s been three fucking days, and Violet hasn’t woken up. Three never-ending days I’ve spent in this armchair, walking a knife’s edge between sanity and madness, studying every rise and fall of her chest just to be sure she’s still breathing.

My lungs only fill when hers do, and the time between my heartbeats is filled with sharp, all-consuming fear.

She’s never looked fragile to me, but she does now, lying in the middle of my bed, her lips pale and chapped, the ends of her hair duller than their usual bladelike hue. For three days, everything about her has felt as though the life was leache...

But today, at least, the morning light shows her cheeks have a little more color along the darker line of her...

I should have grabbed on to her after that first kiss the way I wanted and kept her at my side, should have let her all the way in.

She can’t die, and not just because there’s a chance I won’t survive. She can’t die because I know I can’t live without her even if I do. Somewhere between the shock of our attraction at the top of that turret to realizing she risked her own life by giving up a boot for someone else on the parapet that first day to her throwing those daggers at my head under the oak tree, I wavered. I should have realized the danger of getting too close the first time I put her on her back and showed her how easily she could kill me on the mat—a vulnerability I’ve allowed no one else—but I brushed it off as an undeniable attraction to a uniquely beautiful woman. When I watched her conquer the Gauntlet, then defend Andarna at Threshing, I stumbled, stunned by both her cunning and her sense of honor. When I burst into her room and found Oren’s treacherous hand at her throat, the rage that made it so easy to kill all six of them without batting an eye should have told me I was headed for a cliff. And when she smiled at me after mastering her shield in mere minutes, her face lighting up as the snow fell around us, I fucking fell. We hadn’t even kissed, and I fell.

Ughhh heart shattered 🥹

Or maybe it was when she threw her knives at Barlowe or when jealousy ate me alive seeing Aetos kiss the mouth I’d dreamed about countless times. Looking back, there were a thousand tiny moments that pulled me over the edge for the woman asleep in the bed I always pictured her in.

Her eyes are open. “You’re awake.” My voice sounds like it’s been dragged across gravel when I thought it’d only been my heart.

She’s awake. She’s alive. She’s…smiling? That must be a trick of the light. This woman likely wants to set me on fire.

“I thought I was going to lose you.” The confession comes out strangled, and maybe it’s pushing my luck after all I’ve put her through, but I can’t keep from leaning forward and brushing my lips over her forehead, then her temple. Gods, I’d kiss her forever if I thought it would keep the coming argument at bay, keep us in this one pristine moment where I can actually believe that everything might be all right between us, that I haven’t irrevocably fucked up the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

“You aren’t going to lose me.” She gives me a puzzled look, smiling like I’ve said something peculiar. Then she leans in and kisses me.

She still wants me. The revelation makes my heart fucking soar. I take the kiss deeper, swiping my tongue over her soft lower lip and gently sucking on the tender curve. That’s all it takes for need to flood my system, hot and demanding. It’s always like this between us—the slightest spark sets off a wildfire that consumes every thought that isn’t related to how many ways I can make her moan. We’ll have a lifetime of these moments ahead of us, when I can strip her down to her skin and worship every curve and hollow of her body, but this isn’t one of them, not when she’s barely been awake for five minutes. I draw back, slowly releasing her mouth. “I’ll make it up to you,” I promise, holding her delicate ...

“Yes.” Brilliant. Fucking. Woman.

I can’t help it. I smile. This brilliant fucking woman is mine. Or was mine. Will be mine again if I have anything to say about it. Which I probably don’t. I sigh, losing the smile immediately. Fuck. No, I’m not giving up until she tells me to.

Funny how people rename everything that makes them feel uncomfortable.

An hour later, I’m bathed and impatient as I wait outside my room in a fresh set of leathers with Bodhi, who’s doing his best to lighten my mood just like he always does, when the door opens and Violet stands there. I nearly swallow my tongue at the sight of her unbound, damp hair curling just under her breasts. I can’t even articulate what it is about the strands that pushes me straight into need-to-fuck-her-now territory, and I’m too busy fighting to keep my hands at my sides to question the why of it.

She exists, and I get turned on. I’ve come to accept that particular truth over the last year.

Gods, I want to haul her into my arms and love her until she forgets everything except how good we are together, but I’m sure that’s the last thing she’ll ever want again. “Come back in,” she says softly, and my heart lurches. “As long as you’ve invited me.” I walk in, loathing the distrust in her eyes.

I’m not going to lose the only woman I’ve ever fallen for without a fight.

“I fell for you.” I lower my head and look straight into her gorgeous eyes. She might be rightfully pissed, but she sure as Malek isn’t fickle. “And you know what? You might not trust me anymore, but you still love me.”

with a quick blink. Never again. Those eyes will never reflect hurt I’ve inflicted ever again.

“I’ll tell you anything you want to know and everything you don’t. I’ll spend every single day of my life earning back your trust.”

I’d forgotten what it felt like to be loved, really, truly loved—it’d been so many years since Dad died. And Mom… Not going there. But then Violet gave me those words, gave me her trust, her heart, and I remembered. I’ll be damned if I don’t fight to keep them.

“I’m not afraid of hard work, especially not when I know just how sweet the rewards are. I would rather lose this entire war than live without you, and if that means I have to prove myself over and over, then I’ll do it. You gave me your heart, and I’m keeping it.” She already owns mine, even if she doesn’t realize it.