More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
Andarna scurries between Sgaeyl’s claws, galloping toward us. She skids the last dozen feet,
“Yes, I want a word. What the hell kind of powers are you channeling to her?” Xaden demands, staring up at Tairn like he isn’t…Tairn. Yep. Ballsy. Every muscle in my body locks, sure that Tairn is about to torch Xaden for impudence. “None of your business what I choose or do not choose to channel toward my rider,” Tairn answers with a growl. This is going well. “He says—” I start. “I heard him,” Xaden counters, not sparing me a glance. “You what?” My eyebrows hit my hairline, and Andarna retreats to stand with the others. Dragons only talk to their riders. That’s what I’ve always been taught.
...more
“He’s just a little freaked out. Don’t scorch him.” “At least we agree on something.” A feminine voice sounds through my head. Sgaeyl.
“You make it sound so pleasant.” “It’s not.” He turns to face me. “But you and I are exactly that, Violence. We’re chained. Tethered.
“The first thing is we shouldn’t bond until we’re full-grown.” She cocks her head to the side. “Or maybe the first is where the sheep are? I like goats better, though.” “This is why feathertails don’t bond.”
“I am not!” Andarna puffs steam into the air. “I’m two! The hatchlings can’t even fly!”
“Hold on. Is Andarna yours?” Xaden walks a step toward Sgaeyl, and the tone in his voice is one I’ve never heard. He’s…hurt. “Have you hidden a hatchling away from me these last two years?”
“Her parents passed before hatching,” Tairn answers. My heart sinks. “Oh, I’m sorry, Andarna.” “I have lots of elders,” she responds, as though that makes up for it, but having lost my dad…I know it doesn’t.
“Tell me what she said. Please.” His mouth tightens and I know that last bit cost him.
“At some point, you and I are going to have to start trusting each other, Sorrengail. The rest of our lives depend on it.” Fury swims in Xaden’s eyes. “Now tell me who
Accusing a wingleader of wrongdoing is the most dangerous of all accusations. If you’re right, then we’ve failed as a quadrant to select the best wingleaders. If you’re wrong, you’re dead.
Oh shit. This feeling right here—the way my breath catches and my entire body draws tight when he’s near—is why I haven’t taken anyone to bed or celebrated like the rest of my perfectly normal friends. This feeling is why I haven’t wanted anyone…else. Because I want him. There aren’t enough curse words in the world for this.
“I do not need a bodyguard,” I snap at Xaden. Am I out of line speaking to a wingleader that way? Absolutely. Do I care? Not one bit.
“I. Do. Not. Need. A. Bodyguard,” I repeat, a little louder this time. I could give two fucks who hears me. One of the first-years behind me gasps, mortified by my audacity, no doubt. Imogen snorts. “Good luck with that approach.”
“He is not sleeping in my room.” “Of course not.” He freaking smirks
He freaking smirks,
“Someone’s in trouble,” Rhiannon whispers. “Think Ridoc finally got caught in Tyvon Varen’s bed?”
Mine drops open again when I realize it’s Xaden climbing the steps to the dais. My stomach lurches as I suck in a tight breath. “This is about me,” I whisper.
I feel the weight of a dozen glances, but it’s Xaden’s I feel most of all.
“Wingleaders are beyond reproach—” “Then why are you so quick to call our own wingleader a liar?”
“You’re using this to get your revenge on my family!” Amber shouts at Xaden. “For not supporting your father’s rebellion!” That’s a low fucking blow.
“Xaden’s up there fighting because I told him it was her. Help him.” And gods, I admire him for it.
“This really isn’t necessary.” I glance sideways at Liam as we make our way toward the door of the Archives. The cart doesn’t even squeak anymore. He fixed that the very first day. “So you’ve told me for the last week.” He shoots me a grin, revealing a dimple.
revealing a dimple.
Immense, incredible hunger strikes, my stomach gnawing on emptiness that demands to be appeased with the blood of—
“Tairn’s awake,” I manage to say, clutching my stomach like I’m the one who craves a flock of sheep. Or goats.
clutching my stomach like I’m the one who craves a flock of sheep. Or goats.
“So Tairn hasn’t channeled to you, either, right?” Liam asks, a look of uncertainty, vulnerability on his face. I shake my head. “I think he has commitment issues,” I whisper. “I heard that.” “Then stay out of my head.” Another wave of paralyzing hunger assaults me, and I nearly crush Markham’s scroll in my hand. “Don’t be an ass.” I swear I hear him chuff a chuckle in response.
“You may be cool, but you will never be as cool as I am!” Ridoc pushes past Liam and throws his arm over my shoulder.
My scalp prickles, but I fight the urge to turn around. “Riorson just got here,” Liam says from the seat to my right, breaking from the little dragon figurine he’s carving and looking up the rows toward the third-years. “Figured.” I hold up my middle finger and keep my eyes forward. Not that I don’t like Liam, but I’m still pissed at Xaden for assigning him. Liam snorts and grins, flashing his dimple. “And now he’s glaring. Tell me, is it fun pissing off the most powerful rider in the quadrant?” “You could try it yourself and find out,” I suggest,
“Riorson just got here,”
“Figured.” I hold up my middle finger and keep my eyes forward. Not that I don’t like Liam, but I’m still pissed at Xaden for assigning him. Liam snorts and grins, flashing his dimple. “And now he’s glaring. Tell me, is it fun pissing off the most powerful rider in the quadrant?” “You could try it yourself and find out,” I suggest,
“They’re just threats. The only time I’ve actually been targeted was at night, and it’s not like Liam here is sleeping in my bedroom.” “I mean, I’m not opposed—” he begins, his knife hovering over the piece of wood. “Don’t even start.” I whip my head to face him and can’t help but laugh. “You are a shameless flirt.” “Thank you.”
and it’s not like Liam here is sleeping in my bedroom.” “I mean, I’m not opposed—” he begins, his knife hovering over the piece of wood. “Don’t even start.” I whip my head to face him and can’t help but laugh. “You are a shameless flirt.” “Thank you.”
“I’m sorry I don’t make the cut,” Liam teases. “But I’m sure Riorson would be fine with my reviewing a couple candidates, especially if it means you’ll stop flipping him off in front of his entire wing.”
“Oh, are we telling dick jokes now?” Ridoc asks from Liam’s side. “Because my entire life has led up to this very moment.” Even Sawyer laughs. “Fuck me,” Liam mutters under his breath. “I’m just saying that since you’re protected at night now—” We laugh harder, and he blows out a deep breath.
I fumble my quill and it falls to the ground, but before I can lean over, the shadows beneath the arm of my desk lift the instrument like an offering.
Then again, most everyone in this room can stay on their dragon. “So can you.” “Don’t you have better things to do with your day than listen in on my self-loathing?” “Not particularly. Now pay attention.” “Stop butting in and maybe I can,”
keeping a lot to myself these days. “Not entirely,” Tairn grunts. “No comments from you, not after you almost let me hit the side of a mountain today.”
“No comments from you, not after you almost let me hit the side of a mountain today.”
Whatever Imogen has you doing is working.” “You’re not ready to channel yet, Silver One.” “As if there was ever any doubt,” Imogen calls from the next mat over, where she casually holds Ridoc in a headlock, waiting for him to tap out.
Then I make the mistake of glancing over her shoulder, toward the center of the gym. Holy. Fucking. Hot.
Xaden and Garrick have stripped off their shirts and are sparring like their lives depend on it, a blur of kicks, punches, and rippling muscle. I’ve never seen two people move that fast. It’s a beautiful, hypnotizing dance with lethal choreography that makes me hold my breath whenever Garrick goes in for the kill and Xaden deflects.
And I know exactly how that body feels on top of
mine, just how much power—
“Serves you right,” Tairn lectures. “Pay attention!” Rhiannon yells, drawing back her staff. “I could have… Oh.” Clearly, she sees what I do, what nearly every other woman—and several of the men—are happily watching.
“Stop objectifying our wingleader,” Liam teases. “Is that what we’re doing?” Rhiannon asks, not bothering to look away. My mouth waters at the muscled expanse of his back and that sculpted ass. “Yeah, I think that’s what we’re doing.”
He only tolerates my existence because our dragons are mated, and here I am salivating over his half-naked body. It’s a really nice half-naked body, though.
“She’s only alive because of you,” Jack spits, but the blood drains from his face. “Right, because I’m the one who buried a dagger in your shoulder at Threshing.”
Garrick’s hulking frame appears to the left, and I begrudgingly add him to my list of protectors.
