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second wind. 5 . xaden riorson (fourthwing)

Xaden doesn't believe in second chances until he meets you.

genre: slowburn, fluff, suggestive content, mentions of death, violence and abuse. Reader is a Healer. iron flame spoilers so don't read if you haven't read iron flame and if you do read it, don't blame me TT.TT

a/n: Happens after the fight at Resson. Don't come after me. Also, thank you all so much for all the love that this story has been getting from the very beginning. Tala has become very dear to me and I hope that you guys are just as invested in their love story as I am <3

taglist: @sorrybaeeeeee @lalameors @skxawngs @nesiris21 @ambivalence-is-me @fourthmarvel @kahlan170 @bubybubsters @shadowmarurader @acourtofmarvels @shadow-dancer37 @smileysunshinesworld @atukiyou @rv19 @sunflouer04 @wildmavs @sherlockholmes08 @jesschalamet @ly--canthrope

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

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"He will come."

You tear your eyes away from the path where your squad had come from a few nights ago. Since then, there's been over three more squads that made it, including Ridoc, Sawyer and Rhiannon. But still, no sign of the face that's been haunting you for days on end.

It's Liam that breaks your little reverie, squatting down beside you and following your gaze in the growing sunset falling over the hills.

"I know," your voice comes out small, "but I'm scared. What if something happens to them? They're the last group, and--"

"It's Xaden Riorson we're talking about," Liam's lips tilt up in a smirk, "he'd never go down without a fight."

"I know," you chew onto the inside of your cheek.

"If it's any help, Deigh has been surveying the path and he reports there's nothing out of order," Liam says.

Your fingers curl over your white cloak, now dusty and streaked with dirt, "thank you," you answer in a small voice.

It's been a week since your arrival to the new territory. Garrick had named it "The North Province" to make it easier for everyone, and it's clear that all riders are putting their hearts and soul into turning this into a stable humble abode. Tents have been set all around the area and the structure of the very first building that will be used as sleeping quarters has already started. Abigail and another rider whose signet focuses on merging and blending items together have started weaving bamboo shoots to create a roof, while you have been occupied tending to all the cuts, the wounds and the injured.

You work tirelessly during the day so that you all but pass out when night time comes around. Since no one else seems to be at ease in the kitchen, you've taken it upon yourself to find stuff for the group to eat, a rather constant challenge considering that all riders seem to have beastly appetites.

Bodhi and a few other first years go hunt for some hare and birds, and with the help of Rhiannon and Imogen, you grill the meat over open fire. Sawyer creates some kind of an oddly-shaped metal bowl that you use to mash cut up vegetables to make some kind of stew, and while it's not the tastiest thing in the world, it's more than good enough for the hungry pack of riders.

It's on a particular cold and dark evening that the last group finally makes it. You're currently seated around a fire, Liam and Swayer flanking your sides as you listen in on Bodhi's story with a second-year girl that had been crushing on him since the moment he'd crossed parapet, when a few excited shouts echoed in the distance.

Your head whips around, eyes instantly squinting towards the edge of the mountain. A dragon's roar echoes throughout the night, and Liam lets out a loud holler, "They're here! They made it!"

"Shit," that's Rhiannon stumbling to her feet, "Xaden's hurt."

You freeze, "what?"

But nobody has the time to answer, for everyone is scrambling towards the said group. Brennan, looking dishevelled with his face filled with dirt and mud, holds up a single luminary as he all but stumbles into Garrick's arms. You trip over your feet as you make a beeline for the group, faltering upon taking note of a familiar silhouette currently slumped against another rider.

"What happened?" It's Dain who takes charge, sweeping in to grasp Xaden's shoulder.

The raven-haired man seems out of it, head rolling against the other rider's shoulders. It's then that you spot the gash starting from the corner of his neck and running down, disappearing past his tunic.

You gasp at the same time that Dain swears, "Fuck's sake, Riorson," he turns, meeting your eyes, "we'll get him to your tent. Get your meds."

You don't need to be told twice.

Adrenaline kicks in and you're off, sprinting down the jagged path filled with brambles and leaves, uncaring that they snag at your feet and scrape your skin as you head straight to your tent. Opening up its flaps to give them more space to enter, you quickly prepare a makeshift bed before moving to your stash of medicine.

Mint. Aloe. With a few other herbs that you barely know the name of yet recognise by scent. You sniff them for good measure and shove them into a mixing bowl before crushing it all into a paste. Meanwhile, the boys have managed to drag Xaden all the way to your tent and with the help of Liam and Bodhi, settle the said shadow wielder across the makeshift bed of blankets and coats that have kept you warm throughout the cold nights.

Xaden's chest heaves with each ragged breath that escapes his lips, but his eyes are still squeezed shut as if in pain as more blood dribbles down the side of his neck.

"Take off his clothes," you command as you make a grab for a clean shirt, rip it in half, and toss a whole bottle of alcohol over it. You move to Xaden with precise efficiency, with the expert hands of a healer in an emergency situation, all while Liam and Bodhi struggle to tear off his flight jacket.

His dark tunic goes next, with Bodhi practically ripping it down the middle so that you take in the huge gash that runs all the way down the side of his body.

Your throat prickles with the onset of nausea and you quickly press the cloth against his wound, wincing when Xaden lets out a pained grunt.

"I'm sorry," you murmur as you try to clean it as quickly as possible. But there's so much blood, so much of it pouring down the sides that you're not quite sure what to do.

"Where's Brennan?" you ask, heart beating a hundred miles per hour. You won't be able to close this wound on your own. It's too big, the gash too deep. You need him.

"He's injured too. Garrick's taking care of him." Liam responds with an urgency, "for now, just try to stop the bleeding as quickly as possible."

Gods. What great timing.

"Bodhi," you call out and motion towards the other end of the ripped cloth, "grab that and press it to his wound. Make sure you stop the blood as quickly as possible. He can't lose any more or it's going to be fatal."

"He already did lose a lot of it already," comes Bodhi's pained response as he does as told.

Xaden is a writhing mess of pain. His body curls in on itself, but you're quick to pin him down.

"Liam," you look at the said man in desperation, and the blonde doesn't need to be told twice, holding down Xaden's arms and ensuring he doesn't move, "I got it," he says, blue eyes glistening with a mixture of sympathy and guilt.

"This is going to hurt," you mutter to Xaden, but mostly to yourself, as you manage to clear off most of the blood. You grab the bowl filled with the healing balm, muttering a string of prayers underneath your breath like that might help, before scooping it out and gently spreading it across Xaden's wound.

The shadow wielder lets out a pained moan, one that vibrates through your very core. Guilt rushes through you, but you continue on despite the tears welling up at the corner of your eyes.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," you keep on repeating as the man beneath keeps on writhing and moving in a desperate attempt to get away. His eyes are delirious when they snap open, gasping out a, "Stop it. Make it stop!--"

"Liam!" You can't help but cry out, desperately applying more down to his collarbone.

Xaden lets out another cry of pain as it consumes him whole and you sob, shaky fingers moving along the wound while Bodhi's busy cleaning around it with deft, efficient movements.

"Don't stop Tala," Bodhi tells you, voice surprisingly firm and controlled, "don't stop no matter what. It's for his own good."

"I know, I know," you murmur brokenly, trying to block out Xaden's cries and calls for help, a clear sign that the balm is working.

You manage to rub it all along his wound and by then Xaden is unconscious, the only sign that he's still alive being his chest rising and falling in steady, calm breaths. You let out a shaky sigh as you lean back and take a look at the wound, satisfied that the bleeding seems to have stopped for now, and it will supposedly start healing by itself if Xaden doesn't move.

Liam slumps back against the tent wall, looking just as tired and as distraught, "fuck that was hard," he mutters.

"Tell me about it," Bodhi says. He glances down at you, at the way you keep on staring into space, and nudges your shoulder with his own, "everything okay, Tala?"

"I'm ...fine," you mutter out, "just tired."

"Yeah I bet," Liam pauses, blue eyes softening when they meet yours, "you saved him, you know."

"It's not a deep wound," you reply, "thank the gods for that."

"But you saved him nevertheless," Liam insists.

You don't answer. You find that you have no words, not when Xaden looked like he had been teetering between life and death, not when his cries of pain still echo through your mind like a haunting melody.

There's a long moment of silence, a silence bathed in relief and comfort as you listen to Xaden's steady breaths. Before Bodhi finally gets to his feet, "we should all get some sleep," he looks down at you, "I'll find Garrick. He can keep an eye on him while you sleep--"

"I'll stay here," you interrupt.

They both blink down at you.

"Tala," Liam starts off gently, "you need to rest. It's almost dawn. We've been up all night."

Dawn? You squint towards the tent opening and sure enough, you spot the first slithers of light making their way across the skies like paint streaks in a watercolour painting.

"It's fine. I can hold out a bit longer."

"Tala."

"I promise I'll be fine," you throw him the most confident look you can muster, "trust me."

They don't listen. You know, because a few minutes later after they've retreated you spot Brennan's heavy boots behind the tent opening. A minute later, his giant form appears, a small smile dancing across his lips.

"Hey Tala," he seems to sway, still looking like he could sleep for days, "how's he doing?"

"He seems stable for now," you can't help but reach out and brush a stray lock of dark hair away from Xaden's forehead. You turn back to Brennan sharply, only then realising that he should be resting, "what are you doing here Brennan? They told me you were injured."

"I'm--" he heaves a breath and crouches down, sweat permeating his skin as he takes in air through his mouth, "I'm fine. I just--I wanted to see if I could--"

"Brennan, you can barely talk," you cut him off, a gentle hand on his forearm, "rest. Please. You'll mend him when you're better. But not now."

A mixture of guilt and remorse swim in his eyes. But he nods, wearily leaning back against the tent wall with another soft sigh.

"What happened?" you ask after a long, drawn out moment of silence.

Brennan is quiet for a while. Almost like he's measuring his words, trying to find the best possible thing to say without worrying you.

Finally, he murmurs out: "we were caught in an ambush and we had to lead them away, in the opposite direction. That's why we took so long to reach here. That's when we got into a fight. Xaden got hurt trying to protect one of the first-years. Sgaeyl was furious, kept on trying to bite my dragon's head off as we brought him back to camp as quickly as possible."

"Is Sgaeyl here?" you can't help but ask as your heart starts thudding rapidly. Maybe she'd want to know that her rider is safe.

"Think so. She's very worried. I think she can't feel their bond," Brennan rubs a hand over his face and concern fills you, "do you need me to look at your injuries, Brennan?"

"No no I'm fine. I mended myself, for the most part."

The both of you gaze down at Xaden’s sleeping form. Lying there without a frown for once, the shadow wielder looks almost peaceful, a sight that you rarely get to see.

“He will get better,” you chew the inside of your cheek, “right?”

Brennan nods, “he will.”

The mender urges you to take a break after a while, and after protesting that you can hold out a little longer, you’re forcefully pushed out of your own tent with firm instructions to get some sleep.

You wander off, slightly annoyed that you’ve been kicked out of your room makeshift room, when you spot a huge, looming figure in the distance. You can’t mistake this silhouette; grand and imposing and huge. It’s Sgaeyl, and from the looks of it she’s clearly not happy.

Fear trickles down the back of your spine, but you grab onto your courage with two hands and push forward, forcing your breaths to come out controlled and collected as you approach the dragon.

Sgaeyl's golden eyes blink down at you as you approach, the sound of your footsteps sounding a little too loud in the dull silence only broken by the whispers of the wind echoing across the valleys.

You swallow thickly, throat suddenly running dry at the intensity in Sgaeyl's golden orbs.

You swear your knees shake, but you keep advancing until you're a few metres away, close enough that you have to tilt your head back to look up at her massive body.

"Uhm," you open your mouth. Close it. Open it once more, only to realise you're not quite sure what to say, what to do.

"I know you're probably--uhm--well, worried about Xaden," you stutter and bow your head when Sgaeyl's golden eyes merely fixate on you, as unmoving as a statue.

Fear skittles down your spine but you push through, trying to ignore the sweat dotting your hairline despite the cold wind blowing through the mountain, "I put a healing balm. You know, on his wound, so right now he's--he's stable. Brennan will--he will mend him, once he's better. But--But Xaden's okay. I promise."

The dragon's tail swishes from right to left and you're not sure if that's a good sign. Eyes flitting up to meet her own, you quickly look back down upon noticing the she's been staring at you all along, biting down so hard on your lower lip that you draw blood.

"Don't," Xaden's voice replays in your memory. It makes your heart tighten, ache with longing, "you're hurting yourself."

A small sob falls from your mouth. You can't help it, muttering out a soft, broken, "sorry," as you crumble to the ground.

It starts slow at first. The tears threatening to escape the corner of your eyes. And then, once they start, it's like they can't stop. Burying your face in your arms and bringing your knees to your chest, you start sobbing.

You cry. And cry. And cry.

You want to stop. You're telling yourself to stop. But it's impossible, like a dam that's broken, all emotions crashing through you like waves along a cliffside, torturous and unrelenting. You gasp and heave for breath, practically choking on air as you try to regain control of yourself--

Only to be enveloped by soft, warm wings.

You swallow the lump of surprise echoing from your throat, looking up.

It's Sgaeyl. Sgaeyl's wings, closing around you in a soft cocoon.

A silent gasp falls from your mouth, jumping when you feel the warmth of her dragon body pressing against your back.

There's a vibration that rumbles through Sgaeyl's chest, the kind that causes comfort to spread through you slowly. Tears silently dribble down your cheeks as you allow yourself to lean against her, tired from having to fight with your emotions, tired of being strong.

"I'm sorry," you murmur against her thick dragon scales that are surprisingly warm to the touch, like hovering your fingers over a campfire.

She rumbles out a reply, as if responding to your words, and it might be your imagination that makes you believe she shifts even closer still, as if trying to protect you from the outside world.

That night, you fall asleep surrounded by her wings.

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"Welcome back to the world, Riorson."

Xaden's first thought is a swear word when the light that pricks at his eyelids makes them burn from its brightness. He hisses and holds a palm out to shield his gaze, trying to blink away the dots of white stars filling his vision until he finally makes out two figures standing before him.

Garrick has a huge grin on his face, "you're looking horrifying, but alive."

"Good to have you back, dear cousin," Bodhi adds from the other end of the bed. They both seem extremely pleased with themselves.

"Move over."

Brennan's voice rings out from the other side of the room-- no, a tent. Xaden soon realises -- as he pushes through their figures. His face looks lined with worry, blue aprons underneath his eyes and stubble running along his jawline. He looks like he can use a good night's sleep, and Xaden wonders briefly if he looks just as shitty as the oldest Sorrengail.

"You really have a knack of being at the wrong place at the wrong time, Riorson," Brennan lets out an exasperated sigh as he takes a seat by his bedside, "but I'm glad you're still alive."

Xaden's eyebrows furrow in confusion, "what happened?"

"You don't remember trying to save that first-year from the wyvern?" Brennan asks, "you practically got skinned alive."

That brings back a very distant memory; he'd been fighting, there were wyvern, and he'd merely wanted everyone to be safe, for you to be safe--

Tala.

The name makes him jolt up from the bed. Garrick's arms lash out to hold him by the shoulders, "not so fast, Riorson. You're still recovering."

"Where is Tala?" Xaden's eyes are ablaze with fire. He struggles against Garrick weakly, "where is she?"

"She's fine. She's safe, and she's been worried sick about you," Brennan answers, "but she's with Sgaeyl at the moment."

"With--" the words don't compute. Xaden's brow creases in growing confusion, and he looks at Brennan like the latter has grown an extra head.

Brennan then motions for Garrick, "bring him out. He might actually burn the place down if he doesn't see her at this rate."

Garrick and Bodhi help him to his feet and he staggers in-between them until he can feel his legs, before one of them shoves a cane in his right hand so that he can have some bit of his dignity left.

But what Xaden isn't prepared for is the world that greets him as soon as Bodhi pushes the tent door open.

It's not much, but the place is clearly filled with life, the kind of life that's buzzing and alive with people. It's clear that it's not the same desolated land that it had been just a few days ago. Tents litter the area in a wide circle and in the middle of the terrain stands a metal structure that looks like a foundation.

Garrick, sensing Xaden's eyes taking in the scene, says, "Sawyer and another fire-signet cadet have been working together to wield the metal together. We're planning to make our first sleeping quarters so that we can get our riders to shelter as quickly as possible."

Xaden nods, letting out a soft breath as he takes it all in.

Everyone's safe.

Everyone seems content. Happy, even. There's an air of freedom that even Arethia didn't have. But he can definitely feel it here.

And then, his ears pick up on a laugh.

A familiar soprano that springs through the air like a melody. Xaden's head turns on instinct and what he sees almost makes him topple over.

He starts forward, ignoring Garrick and Bodhi's protests:

"Xaden, mate, I don't think you should be walking that quickly--"

"Yeah man take it easy, you might--"

But Xaden isn't listening. Or rather, he doesn't care about what they say, only interested by the scene unfolding in front of him the closer he gets.

Finally, he stops. A few meters away as his dragon senses him. Sgaeyl's head lifts from previously sneezing at a bouquet of wildflowers you had blown in her face with a giggle.

It's mesmerising. It's ...impossible. Sgaeyl would never let anyone so close to her.

And yet, here she is. Here you are, practically hopping around her like a child with an easy-going smile. And his dragon, looking as appeased as a pet cat.

"Xaden?"

Your voice permeates through the air. But Xaden is still dazed, his heart practically melting and fuck if that's not the cutest thing he's ever seen in his life.

He has never wished for anything before. His life had been a series of battles and lies, of concealing truths and making sure that everyone else around him, everyone he was responsible for was safe from whatever danger lurked. He'd never had the luxury of sitting back and actually reflecting on his life. Nor does he picture what the future looks like.

But now, looking at you and his dragon, at the way you've snuck into the grooves of his heart and made yourself at home in the most unruly of places has him wondering whether there is a life outside of whatever he's dealing with, a life with you.

And gods does he suddenly want it so bad that the thought hits him straight in the chest like a well-aimed arrow.

"Xaden?"

You're blinking at him now, a mixture of worry and wonder on your face. The bouquet is still in your hand, half-raised, and he can feel the surge of Sgaeyl's warmth through his bond, as comforting as falling into a hug on a warm summer's day.

Glad to see you shadow wielder, she purrs.

"You're awake," you murmur out in a shaky breath.

Xaden's heart squeezes tight with a pressure that leaves him short of breath. He just looks at you, words dissipating along his tongue. Emotions swirling through his chest like a storm.

"Are you--" you stumble closer, "are you hurting?"

He shakes his head, hating how adorable you look just by gazing up at him and--fuck those wide doe eyes. Could you be any cuter?

"No," he manages to reply, "It doesn't hurt."

Relief floods your face, "I'm glad. I--your wound was so big, so deep. I thought--I thought you wouldn't make it."

"I promised you didn't I?" he shifts on his good side, the cane stable under his right palm. His eyes slide up to his dragon who seems to be looming close by, her hot breath a warm welcome from the cold morning breeze, "seems like you two are getting along."

"We are, actually. Kept her company while you were unconscious," you tilt your head up to smile at his dragon and his heart practically melts, "she was really worried about you. Would bite any dragon's head off if they came too close to the tent."

"Typical," Xaden rolls his eyes at his dragon, "can't stay still for a minute, can you?"

Old habits die hard, comes Sgaeyl's reply. But the little healer's right. She has taken care of me.

Since when do you need to be taken care of? Xaden's lips tilt in amusement.

Do not make fun of me. I have become quite fond of her.

“I’m—“ the words are choked when you speak next, and Xaden notices the way your eyes glisten, “I’m really happy you’re looking well, Rider Riorson.”

He takes a step closer. And closer.

Until you’re barely inches away. Until he can smell the mild scent of mint and sweet vanilla and something else— something reminiscent of herbs basking in sunlight.

“Thank you,” he murmurs out, onyx eyes searching your face, tracing every feature with the reverence of a man fully captivated.

“There’s nothing to thank me for,” your lips tilt up in a timid smile, “Brennan mended you, for the most part.”

“You took care of Sgaeyl. And that—“ he throws the said dragon a glance, “is not something anyone can do.”

“She’s really not that bad to be around.”

“You’d be surprised how insufferable she can be,” Xaden says with amusement.

He shifts a little closer. You notice the distance, but don’t move back. Instead, your eyes flutter up to meet his, your face an open invitation to your emotions; a mixture of happiness and relief that’s painted over every single crevice he can’t even doubt your intentions. You’re smiling so wide that his heart practically skids at the sight.

Curling his right hand around his supporting cane to grip it tight, Xaden’s other arm comes up to push a stray lock of hair behind your ear. He lingers there for a moment, dark eyes locking on yours with burning intensity that has you pinned, frozen in place.

Heat bursts through your cheeks, “Xaden, there are people staring—“

“Let them look,” his voice has dropped an octave as his hand finds your chin and tilts it up to his face. He ducks to press a single, chaste kiss atop your forehead.

Butterflies erode your stomach without warning with such intensity that you suck in a sharp breath.

You look up at him, dazed that this man — this strong rider that leads rebellions, that helps fight them, who’s at the forefront of every single battle that comes your way — has chosen you. You, of all people, when he can have practically anyone he wants. And to say that there is a lack of strong women would be a lie.

A small thought punctuates you straight to the gut then, the thought that still, you’re not Violet. And you will never be. And she’s gotten everything that you have right now.

She went first. She had him first.

And that hurts.

Xaden, sensing your sudden shift in mood, stiffens. His thumb brushes over your cheekbone, “what is it?”

Sgaeyl seems to sense your sudden reticence, her wing enclosing the pair of you in a cocoon of navy darkness, privy of curious eyes.

Your mouth opens, closes. What can you say? What can you tell him without hurting his feelings?

It’s not his fault after all, that he fell in love with one of the most powerful women that this world has known.

And it seems like it’s not his fault either, that he seems more than invested with someone like you.

“Tala,” Xaden’s gaze sharpens on the way your mouth trembles slightly. He leans into your space a little more, “tell me.”

When you speak next, your voice is a broken whisper. The words feel like glass cutting your throat in two.

“I’m not her.”

Xaden tenses. His jaw ticks. You don’t have to explain for him to understand.

“I know that,” he replies.

“No,” you shake your head, desperation crawling through your chest, “no—you don’t get it. I am not her, Xaden. I—I’m not strong like her. I’m not a rider, I—“ your voice shakes with the last few words, “—I never will be.”

"So what?"

His hand drops to your waist. He pins you in place, his hold firm, yet gentle.

Your chest tightens with a knot and you can't seem to look at him, so your eyes drop to a random point on his chest as shame curls through your stomach.

"I don't--" your voice is hoarse and weak, filled with emotion, "I don't want you to settle for anything less than--"

"No," Xaden cuts you off sharply. He tugs and you follow, falling against his chest with a quiet breath and wide eyes finding the storm in his own dark ones, "you don't get to say that. Not you."

"I'm just telling the--"

"The truth?" his nostrils flare in restrained anger. You can sense it rolling off him in waves, "you want the truth, Tala?"

You want to say more. To tell him that he's wrong, that choosing you means that he is settling for less than what he's asked for. That no matter what, she'll be an imprint in his life, one that he will never forget. But not like you. You're...replaceable. Someone that can be a liability. Someone that he doesn't actually need in his life because you're practically useless, when it comes down to it.

His arm winds around your waist without warning and he pins you to him, chest pressed to yours and causing your cheeks to light with fire. He drops his cane then, other hand traveling up to your hair and trickling through the dark strands as he works your braid free. All while you're watching him with wide, fearful eyes, embarrassment and desire clashing within yourself as you struggle to keep yourself afloat amidst all the feelings barreling through you at full force.

"The truth," he starts of in a low growl, "will make you hate me. Do you want to know, healer?"

The pet name falling from his lips should sound derogatory. But it doesn't. Instead, it sends another burn straight through the middle of your chest. Suddenly, it's a little hard to breathe.

You nod.

"The truth is that I'm not just a shadow wielder," a slither of what you might define as guilt flashes through his face, "I have a second signet, because Sgaeyl was bonded to my grandfather. And those bonded to riders within their own families have a...more intense connection than most."

You blink up at him. Waiting. Wondering what can be so bad his mask falls and suddenly you make out the terror in his eyes, the way it haunts him.

Almost impulsively, your hand finds his arm. As if in comfort. As if that might help him even just a little.

You feel Xaden take in a shaky breath. Exhale as his jaw unclenches.

"I'm in an intrinsic," he murmurs out, "I can read people's intentions."

Your mouth falls open.

Realization crashes through you.

Shock. Bafflement. Surprise.

"What?" you blurt out suddenly.

He just keeps his eyes on you. Silent, gaging your reaction. As still as a statue.

"You--You can read my mind?" you squeak. Oh gods. And now, everything you've been thinking-- about him, about how he drives you crazy, about every single thought you've had since the very beginning -- comes crashing down on you as your cheeks flare with heat and suddenly your skin feels a little too hot to the touch.

"Oh--Oh gods," you can't help but panic, "oh no--you can see --you can read my mind. Oh my--that's so embarrassing," you bite your lip, "I'm so sorry, Xaden."

"There's nothing to be sorry about, Tala. I'm the one who--"

"But—you—that means you know! Oh gods--I--Shit," you start panicking, heart thudding a little too loudly in your chest you wonder if he can hear it, "I'm--really sorry."

"Sorry for what?"

You chew on your lip, not meeting his eyes, "for--everything? I--I was scared of you, at the beginning. I mean--you were Fenn Riorson's son, how was I supposed to deal with that?" your wide eyes flit up to his in a mixture of hopelessness and guilt, "I just--I didn't know what to think of you, not to mention you were probably one of the most handsome man I've met--"

"Is that so?" Xaden's lip curls in amusement.

You flush bright red, "well you already knew that, if you can read my thoughts," you stammer out, "I just--I promise I'm not obsessed with you--"

He cocks his head, "that's what you're worried about?"

You nod, eyes wide.

"I told you I can read people's intentions and that's--" he coughs on as laughter bubbles through him, "--that's what you're worried about? That I know what you think of me?"

Your eyebrows crease at the centre, "isn't that why you're telling me this now?"

"Aren't you scared?" he presses on, releasing your hair and wrapping his other arm around your waist, "that I can read your every thought? That I know exactly what's going on inside your brain?"

You weigh his words carefully, though other than all the thoughts and emotions related to Xaden, there isn't much to hide. After all, your life is pretty mediocre and though you're not the proudest of where you come from, you're not ashamed either.

"Not really," is what you finally say when you realise he's waiting for an answer.

That seems to break something in him. He lets out a soft breath, shoulders dropping as all the fight exits his body as a small smile breaks across his face.

Xaden shakes his head, "honestly, this woman," he mutters to himself, though loud enough you can hear it.

"Like I said, I'm really sorry," you repeat, "for everything I thought about you. I was--wrong. For the most part."

"Can I tell you something else?"

You bite your lip nervously, "sure?"

Xaden's mouth lifts into a smile.

"I can't read you."

For a moment, it doesn’t make sense.

Until it does.

"What?!" Your jaw practically drops open. "Xaden!"

And that's it. It's enough for him to throw his head back and roar with laughter.

It's probably the first time you've seen him laugh this much, actually losing control of himself as he releases you to curl over his stomach. the sound feels like a melody to your ears and you can't help the grin that spreads across your face at the genuine happiness that emanates from him. It's rare to see Xaden so unarmed, and that's something you'll try to embed in your mind forever.

“Gods,” he’s still grinning so wide and his eyes are sparkling like he can’t imagine anything better. It takes years off his age and you find yourself grinning foolishly back at him, flushed cheeks and all, "gods Tala. You're --you're something."

And then he's pulling you flush against him before pressing his forehead against yours, the grin still dancing across his lips, eyes glittering with what you suspect might be some version of joy. You're too enraptured by the look on his face -- so open, so genuine and innocent -- that it takes you a few seconds to realise he's calling your name.

"S--Sorry," you blunder, "what were you saying?"

There's a gentleness in his eyes, one that you've never seen before. When he speaks next, there's a gravel to his voice, one that sends your nerves skittering all over the place.

"I'm not settling," he murmurs out, hoarse. Voice thick with emotion, "and you're no rider. I don't need another weapon, I don't need someone else to fight my demons. Most of all, I don't need someone with more secrets. I have enough of my own."

He closes his eyes then, inhales a breath, and when he opens them next, there's a determined fire burning in them, "you're not scared of what I can see, of what I might see in you. And the thought that someone could be just so fucking transparent, I--" his hand comes up to cup your face and you let out a small shaky exhale in response, "--it's not something I'm used to. It's--terrifying. But I--I can't help but want you. More."

His admission has your chest bubbling with too many emotions to count, butterflies erupting across your chest as his words register in your mind. He's practically laying his soul out, bare for you to pluck and thread to your liking. He's giving you every piece of him, no doubt about that.

"So if you think, for one single second, that you're just a consolation prizes, think again," his voice hardens then, grip tightening slightly along your jaw as his fingers trickle to the back of your hair, "I don't do consolation prizes."

There's so much intensity in his gaze that you cannot help looking away, a soft breath falling past your lips. Then, you nod. A singular dip of the head to tell him that you understand, but that already speaks volumes, and Xaden lets out a breath himself before he's gathering you up into his arms and hugging you close like distance does not exist. Not with him.

As dusk falls over the landscape that same evening, you find yourself finding solace in the warmth granted by the campfire that Garrick and Bodhi had constructed to give a semblance of comfort, especially in the growing cold of the night. Brennan is currently showing Xaden around the camp and describing the structures that he's put in place, which leaves you with Liam and Sawyer by the fire as you sip on your warm mugs of cider.

"So I guess we'll have to get used to this, huh?" Sawyer leans back, palms flat on the ground as you sit, curled with your arms around your knees, shoulder pressed against Liam to seek maximum warmth.

"It still feels weird," Liam mutters loud enough for it to reach your ears, "Aretia has been our home. Moving to Basgiath had been hard enough, but this..." he trails off and he doesn't have to say much else. You understand what he means.

"I know," you say.

"What happens now?" Sawyer asks.

Your eyes find Liam's. You open your mouth and choose your words carefully, "I guess we stick together."

"What about food? Water?" A soft breath escapes the auburn-haired man's mouth and he shakes his head, "we can't just live on provisions forever. We need solutions, and Brennan isn't giving us any of those."

"He will," you turn your head to look at him, fingers splaying out across his arm in what you hope is a comforting gesture, "but like all of us, I think he needs time. To process things."

With Xaden now on board things move quicker; rider scouts are sent down the valleys to find sources of fresh water, while others take turns to build the sleeping quarters out of bamboo in hopes that it might be constructed before any natural disasters might hit. Another group of riders are sent to scout the area for any abandoned housing structures and they come back that very same day, calling out that they've found something.

Not just something. A lot of somethings.

Turns out that there had been a village inhabiting these lands, and from the looks of the architecture, it seems to have been raided or abandoned eons ago. Xaden doesn't hesitate to move everyone to that particular area and soon, renovations start being made with the help of dragon fire, welding bits and pieces of metal together while others pile discarded rocks upon rocks to rebuild the walls once lost.

Slowly, but surely, it seems like you are getting somewhere, despite the changes being very minimal, one day at a time.

It's funny, how life seems so domestic and yet completely terrifying at the same time. You still have your routine, being placed in one of the abandoned houses that will act as the Healer's quarters. You've stripped the area down and scrubbed it clean from the inside out so that everything is clean and proper to welcome the injured, and you've asked for a few beds made out of bamboo so that you could place them side by side, like actual cots that you're used to having back in Basgiath.

That's where Xaden finds you most of the time, fiddling with your herbs and mixing in healing palms and poultices of all kinds to ensure that you're ready if there's an emergency. So engrossed you are in mixing up ingredients that you barely take note of his shadow falling over you until you feel hands press on both sides of your waist, conveniently trapping you against the medicine table.

You jump with a strangled yelp, knowing who it is without having to look. Your muscles freeze at his closeness, "Xaden!"

His chuckle is warm as it washes against your nape, and you shiver, tummy cording deliciously at his proximity, "missed me?"

"No," you retort, red cheeks and all, and glad that the inside of this room is dim enough that he won't notice the fact that you're fire engine red, "I've been busy."

He hums in approval and with a jolt of surprise you feel his lips, gently caressing the back of your neck.

"Wh--What--" you stammer out, heart suddenly pounding at the heat his mouth leaves behind, a warm sizzle that sends goosebumps along the back of your spine, "stop that--"

"Hm?" the sound from his throat is merely a rumble as he keeps dotting kiss upon kiss along the back of your neck, down to your shoulder. Even through your healer uniform, the heat of his lips is undeniable, sending your nerves into overdrive.

"Xaden," you breathe out in a warning, though it comes out more like a supplication more than anything.

He shifts away, far enough that allows you to turn around to face him down with a glower, "that wasn't nice," you retort hotly.

"Wasn't it?" his eyes glitter with mischief, "I think--" he lowers his face once more, nose brushing yours. You still, breath halting as his dark eyes flicker over your features with a mesmerising intensity, "--that you're lying."

"I'm not! You're interrupting my work!"

He chuckles deeply at your stutter, relishing in the adorable pout that unconsciously makes its appearance along your lips, "doesn't seem like you were doing much work to me."

"Well I was."

"Is that why you're blushing?"

His comment causes your flush to deepen even more, "I'm--not."

"Mhm," and he's back at it again, dipping his head down to bury itself into the curve of your neck.

Before you can say anything--or push him away-- he leaves a chaste kiss right along your pulse point.

You choke on air. Your knees buckle just at the same time his hands pin your waist to his body.

A small gasp falls from your mouth, but you have no time to think of this currently mortifying position when Xaden's mouth is leaving a hot trail of fiery kisses along the column of your neck. He descends down to your collarbone, tongue swiping gently along your skin and causing you to take a sharp inhale, "Xa--Xaden--"

You want him to stop. You know he should stop. Anyone could walk right into the Healer's quarters and see you getting all handsy with the Commander, of all people. You wouldn't be able to face anyone after that, and so your shaky hands climb up his dark tunic with the thought of pushing him away--

One of his hands slip up, grip your wrist, and pin them back against the table. You shudder, letting out a choked gasp as he continues in-between suckling and kissing your neck senseless.

You swear you can see stars, and though you should say something -- anything to get him away from you as fast as possible -- it's almost like your body is losing control of itself, your mind clouded with desire as it curves up towards the shadow wielder in a way that leaves you completely, utterly mortified. Almost like you are at his mercy.

"Lost your tongue, doll?" his murmur rattles you, words hot against your skin.

You try to speak through the scramble of thoughts, "I--You need to let go. Anyone can walk in--"

"You think I'd let anyone see you like this?" his head lifts, dark eyes piercing yours as a soft, amused smile flickers across his lips, "gods no. That's just for my eyes, healer."

You swear you feel your heart combust.

Oh god. He's going to be the death of you.

You open your mouth to protest, maybe retort something sassy, but before you can even formulate words he's dipped his head down and kisses you full on the mouth.

Your lips part in choked surprise and Xaden takes this opportunity to kiss you deeper, longer. Allowing his tongue to swipe at your bottom lip in a teasing dance that has you physically trembling with want as you melt in his hold. Hands gripping your waist to pin you to his hard frame, he doesn't hesitate to tip your head back as he stakes his claim on your mouth, a kiss that is definitely not gentle, and definitely not at all innocent.

It's probably the second or third time he's kissed you properly since you've gotten to know about his true feelings, but you swear every single time you're swept off your feet by the pure ability of this man to render you completely putty in his hands. He kisses you almost with desperation, mouth staining against yours as he tilts his head to the side to deepen it. You can't help but let out a choked sound filled with raw desire, one that he responds with a guttural growl of his own as he pushes you even further into the table.

Hands taking on a path of their own, they slide up his tunic, along his neck. to wind up in those beautiful raven locks you'd always admired from afar. Xaden groans like it's the best thing you've ever done, mouth parting to gasp out your name like a prayer and you swear you've never felt yourself unraveling so quickly before, not like this. Never like this. Xaden's mouth then finds your jawline, nibbling, kissing, nipping at the skin, even more encouraged when a mixture of whines and moans spill past your throat in growing ecstasy. You writhe, not being able to keep still as warmth grows between your legs, but his hips pin you down between his hardness and the table.

He leans over you, mouth brushing your ear and making your toes curl, "Don't move."

And he's back to peppering soft kisses along your neck and you have no other choice but to tip your head back in mercy, whispering out his name in sharp, choked gasps that don't even sound like you, this raw primal animal that sounds foreign to your ears. But Xaden's only encouraged by this, finding a sweet spot along your collarbone right where your uniform dips, and finds no trouble in sinking his teeth into your skin.

Your body jolts, "X--Xaden!" You breathe out in staccato, reality crashing into you.

But he doesn't care, suckling along the skin as one of his hands slip up to hold you along the ribs-- right below your breastbone.

"Gods, this fucking uniform," he rasps out against your skin, his other hand leaving your hip to pull the white material away and revealing even more skin along your shoulder.

He literally groans, as if the sight is half appealing and half torture to him, and you literally feel your soul leave your body because gods, the mortification?

"Wait--" your voice comes out a tiny, strained whisper, trying to find logic and reason as the dark-haired man nuzzles into your neck, "we shouldn't--we can't--"

"Can't what?" he murmurs, mouth brushing against the sensitive skin right behind your ear.

"Xaden--wait--" Your force yourself to regain some slither of composure, albeit breathless, "can we--talk?"

He groans, but finally does as told and relents, moves away to gaze down into your eyes with a newfound tenderness that still makes you wonder whether this is all a dream.

"What is it?" his tone is layered with gentle concern. It fills your chest with warmth and you impulsively drop your gaze to your hand that has apparently found its way to his chest, twisting into the material of his tunic like he's the only thing that can ground you.

When it seems you can't find words, he takes a staggered breath and asks, "did I hurt you, Tala?"

"No--Nothing like that. I just--" your own hand goes to your hair then, sliding through your locks like it might help ease the knot that's suddenly tightening in the middle of your chest.

Xaden seems to sense your reticence, "you just?" he prompts.

"I'm not--used to--" you gesture between your bodies, "--this. And I--I don't know what you're used to, but I'm not--ah--I'm not--"

Xaden's watching, gaze firm. He cocks his head to the side, eyebrows kissing at the centre, "use your words, doll," his voice is merely above a rumble.

"Healers, they don't--they're not as active as you are--" you can feel your ears, your cheeks flaming bright red as you continue through a stammer, "--physically."

It takes him a second to decipher your words, not that you've granted him any help. He's left to grapple with the double-layered intent until the puzzle piece finally clocks in.

He lifts a brow, an act that renders the back of your weak knees, and when he speaks next, his voice has dropped an octave:

"You've never--"

He intends it to be a question but he doesn't get to finish his sentence.

You bite your inner cheek, shake your head. It takes no genius to notice the blazing heat rushing to your cheeks at breaching such a topic.

It's embarrassing. Mortifying. You wish you could be like the other riders, you wish you can be just as free because it seems like his world is a completely different dimension and you can't help but feel like there's a distance between what's expected of you and what you actually know, and--

"Tala," his voice rumbles through his chest before rough finger pads cradle your jaw to tilt it up. You let out a soft breath that shudders through you, eyes squeezing shut for a moment before you force yourself to meet the swirling emotion in his eyes.

"It seems you're not used to this," Xaden's jaw works. His throat bobs before he continues, "and I--" a half-chuckle vibrates through his chest, "--I'm not good at holding back."

Oh gods. He'll think of you as a total wimp. You bite your lip and lower your head, avert your gaze as embarrassment flushes through your chest. You hope he can't hear how loud your heart is pounding through your chest.

Xaden continues in that same, tender tone that you've barely heard him use, completely foreign from his usual firm baritone. Not that you don't enjoy it, this new softness you learn he reserves -- it seems -- just for you, "but we'll do this at your pace, healer. Because you not wanting this is the last thing I want, and Dunne knows I don't want to scare you away. Alright?"

That's when your eyes slide back up to his, and what you see on his face causes your heart to surge with affection, "okay," you whisper out.

Xaden nods. He brings his other hand up and-- giving you time to protest if you want to-- grasps the edge of your Healer uniform that's been sliding down your forearm and gently lifts it up to cover your exposed collarbone.

"Thank you," you want to cry at how tender he's being with you, like you're something that might break if held too tightly.

Xaden just nods, a semblance of a smile touching his lips as he gives your forearm one last squeeze before stepping back.

"I'll see you at dinner," he dips his head and swivels, striding out of the healer's quarters, "don't be late."

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

"You might just burn him if you keep staring that hard."

Your head snaps back towards Rhiannon who, it turns out, has been watching you with her jaw cradled in her palm and mischief glittering in her brown eyes.

Your neck heats up with that familiar prickle you feel whenever it's Xaden related, "I'm not staring."

"Who are you kidding, exactly?" she lifts a perfectly arched brow and it's clear she doesn't believe you despite your comebacks, "and why are you staring at him like you're twelve and you have a crush on a boy who doesn't know of your existence?"

You try to focus on the plate of mashed potatoes, stabbing your fork into it with more force than necessary, "I'm not staring," you mumble through a mouthful.

"Girl," Rhiannon rolls her eyes, "please. You can fool everyone but me. I know that look. I've seen it before."

On Violet.

She doesn't have to finish that sentence. You know what she's implying, and as if on impulse your only defence mechanism is to tighten your hold on your fork. And from the flash of guilt on Rhiannon's face, she's all too aware of what she might have insinuated.

"Sorry," she says, clearing her throat and breaking off a chunk of bread from her plate, "that's not what I meant, Tala. Xaden's really fond of you, you know that right?"

Fond of you is not the same as in love with you. And you're okay with that, in being someone he might just be fond of, and not the love of his life. Because he knows exactly how that feels like. You're clearly not the one that sets his heart ablaze, not the world that can make his world crumble with a single word. But being reminded that you'll be a runner-up -- always-- especially in the presence of Violet's friends doesn't make it less hard.

Your awkward silence is thankfully broken by a very excited Ridoc who seems all too keen on sharing the latest gossip between riders, practically barreling into you as he slides onto the wooden bench.

"You cannot believe what I just heard!" he hollers, and then as he proceeds to launch into a very detailed description of who's been sleeping with whom you allow yourself to drift away from conversation as your eyes unconsciously flick over to the looming shadow of a man currently seated on the other side of the dining hall, for once looking like he's actually enjoying himself with the light-hearted conversation between him, Garrick, Bodhi and Brennan.

The table explodes in a bout of laughter and you're so transfixed by the way Xaden looks like--head thrown back, fist thumping the table and face void of any tension whatsoever -- that you jump in surprise when his eyes slide over to lock on yours.

As if he knows you've been staring all along.

His expression softens slightly, his grin dissipating into a mellow smile. Bringing his mug up to his lips, he tilts it at you in a sign before taking a sip.

You look away like he's burnt you just in time to catch Ridoc's last phrase: "--and he literally puked his guts out all over his bed!"

"That's disgusting," Rhiannon sniffs with a grimace.

"What's disgusting?" Sawyer slides into the seat next to you, holding a plate full of steaming food.

"Ridoc's just about describing to us very visually, how one of the first-years decided to play around with whiskey last night."

"And boy did they regret it," Ridoc says through a mouthful of vegetables.

"I'm not even going to question how you know that," Sawyer's nose crinkles in distaste.

"Hey, a guy's gotta live a little," Ridoc sends Sawyer a pointed grin filled with mischief, dark eyes glittering against the dim light of the campfire roaring in the distance, "unlike some of us, I'm having the time of my life. Maybe you should try it too, Swayer--"

"Shut up."

You giggle slightly, shovelling some more potatoes into your mouth and chewing as you fail to ignore the way Sawyer flushes a bright red, his eyes cutting towards the side where a very cute, very pretty lithe rider seems to have caught his attention. Ridoc's been teasing him for days now, ever since Sawyer had an awkward encounter with the said rider as they helped in building some of the structures under which they are seeking refuge. And if not for the countless teasing coming from the ice-wielder, it's obvious from the way Sawyer keeps blushing and stuttering around her that gives him away.

"What's her name again?" Rhiannon asks as she follows his line of sight to where the girl sits with her group of friends.

Ridoc can't help but nudge Sawyer at that, and when the latter practically shoves him away, cackles and gleefully announces, "I believe it's Fallon Sarazze. First-year. Fire-wielding signet."

"No wonder he's smitten," the smirk on Rhiannon's face practically doubles, "Fire and Metal. Deadly combination."

"Let's change the subject shall we?" it's then that Sawyer abruptly turns to you, eyebrow cocked up in question, "so, Tala dearest, mind telling us how you managed to snag the one and only Xaden Riorson?"

"Yeah Tala, don't keep this information all to yourself," Ridoc winks.

You can already feel the heat simmering under your skin and force yourself not to blush. Try as you might, you're pretty certain your cheeks give you away, "there's nothing to tell," is what you reply lamely.

A collective groan resounds around the table, "there is a lot to tell," Ridoc answers, leaning forward atop the table as his eyes gleam with amusement, "the man is a walking wall of cold ice. That, and the fact that he's fucking terrifying."

"Tell me about it," mutters Rhiannon.

"So give us all the juicy details. Come on," eggs on the ice-wielder who's looking a little too entertained by this whole ordeal, "how is it then? Is he all gentle and goo-goo eyed? Does he call you 'princess' or 'baby' or something as sappy as that?"

"Uhm--no," you stutter out, heart ricocheting out of your chest at the mention of Xaden's use of pet names because he does, actually, use them with you. Just not the ones Ridoc might be suggesting, "nothing like that. It's pretty much--well, like any other relationship..."

"How is he in bed?" Rhiannon asks.

You can't help but blush a bright, tomato red. Your silence speaks volumes. Ridoc's eyes pop out of his head and Rhiannon blinks, realisation blossoming across her features at the guilty look on your face.

Only Sawyer seems understanding enough, "being in a relationship does not only mean getting down and dirty," he snaps at them, "you guys are pigs."

"Says the one eye-fucking that little first-year ever since she made an appearance," Ridoc shoots back.

Sawyer just flicks his fork at him in response and Ridoc giggles, ducking just in time to avoid getting smashed with a chunk of sausages.

You thank Malek that the conversation then steers away from you, glad that you don’t have to provide any answers to their pertinent questions when you yourself actually don’t know what to tell them when in truth, Xaden has definitely been more accomodating towards your space. The further he’s gone is a few gentle kisses on your lips, never taking it further and always— always— having a restrained, controlled grip along your hips.

The fact that he’s actually putting in a lot of effort, knowing his history, has your heart fluttering tenfold with emotions too big for you to contain.

As time goes by and you get a bit more comfortable with calling this new place your humble abode, your relationship with Xaden settles in like warmth over broken cracks. You get into a steady rhythm of life, most times finding yourself cleaning up after injured riders for the most part of the morning. Xaden finds you during lunch, sneaking in bowls of stew and chunks of bread he'd gotten from another border village a few mountains over -- courtesy of Sgaeyl and Sliseag's findings as they flew through the valleys overhead. He's a quiet, yet forceful presence that enamours you no matter how much you try not to. His watchful eyes are alert on your silhouette, and when he's had enough of admiring your handiwork, always places a firm hand along your lower back to prod you over to one of the cots. You'd proceed to eat together, sharing bits and pieces of stories about anything and everything.

"Do you ever miss your dad?" you ask softly once, watching the way he freezes for a millisecond, before he's back to chewing like nothing has happened.

"I've learnt to forget," Xaden replies, his tone somewhat muted, subdued, "It's easier that way."

"And what about your mom?" you ask after a few beats of hesitation.

He shifts, thigh brushing against yours as he tears off another piece of bread, "She left when I was ten. She had a deal; raise me for ten years. And when she fulfilled it, she was done."

No mother there to support him. And a father that died all too soon.

No wonder Xaden's built like a fort and has the emotional resilience of a hedgehog.

"I'm sorry," you mumble out, though you're not quite sure what you're sorry for.

"Nothing to be sorry for."

"If it makes you feel any better, I think they raised an amazing son," you send him a gentle smile, hand unconsciously finding his forearm and squeezing it lightly, "your heart is where it's supposed to be, Rider Riorson."

Xaden looks at you in silence. His eyes lock on yours, for once unguarded and soft. There's pain that swirls there, but it's the kind that's showing you that he trusts you with what you're seeing.

And when he finally speaks, his voice is barely above a croaked murmur, "thank you."

Other times can find you at Sgaeyl's side and stealing bits and pieces of her warmth. The navy blue dragon has definitely taken a liking to you after those few days spent in your presence, and seems to have no qualms about physical distance, especially when her rider seems so soft on you. There had been a singular moment where Xaden had been looking all over the place for you just to find out that you had been sleeping, tucked away under one of Sgaeyl's wings as your chest rose and fell in peaceful rhythm.

He'd scooped you up against his chest with a narrow-eyed stare towards his dragon, you could've told me she was with you instead of sending me on a wild goose chase.

But it was fun seeing you panic for the little healer, Sgaeyl merely blinks down at him, her words reverberating with amusement.

Not funny at all, Xaden's jaw clenches.

It’s a few days later that he finds you by one of the campfires set up by Imogen and Garrick, currently deep in conversation with none other than Brennan. You pause mid-way through your words upon seeing his silhouette walk up to the discarded log on which you’re propped up, and Xaden can’t help but raise a brow at the flush that creeps along your cheeks at his apparition.

Something tells him — or rather, sensing Brennan’s impulses— that you’ve been discussing none other than the shadow wielder himself.

“You’re done?” Is what you ask, bringing him out of his thoughts.

He nods and settles by your side, long legs sprawling out along the grass and greeting Brennan, “just about. The showers will be running in no time. If Ridoc stops playing around, we might get them by morning.”

"A shower would be nice," you reply shyly and duck your head.

Xaden feels his heart twist with adoration and he clears his throat, looks away towards Brennan only to find the mender already smirking like he knows exactly what he's going through.

"Well," the said mender stretches up with a big yawn before proceeding to stand up and dust his pants, "guess that's my cue for bed."

A comfortable silence settles over you and Xaden takes that time to admire the way the campfire flames bathe your silhouette in hues of gold and orange, the way your skin seems to glow in the depths of darkness, wisps of breeze catching strands of your dark hair.

You seem lost in thought, almost like there’s something that’s bothering you. That makes him prompt:

“You okay?”

Your eyes slide over to meet his and something akin to affection blossoms in his chest at the tenderness that fills your face, “yes. I’m… fine. Just a bit worried.”

He shifts a little closer, knee pressing into yours, “about?”

“Everything,” you bite the inside of your cheek, picking at your nails as you draw your gaze back to the dancing flames, “what if this— all this—“ you sweep an arm around, “is for nothing?”

The way your voice trails off gives away the fear hidden underneath and a surge of protectiveness rises through Xaden’s chest.

“It’s not,” he murmurs out, “it can’t be. It never will.”

“But what if they find us?”

“Then we fight.”

“But we—“

“We’re too far out for them to venture. They won’t take such a risk,” he cuts you off, shimmying out of his jacket in the process and in one smooth movement throwing it around your shoulders. He keeps his arm around you and feels you nestle just a little closer, just enough that he allows himself to lean a little more into you.

He knows how tentative you are around him, how you’re scared of what you don’t know and what he does, and how comparison is the thief of your happiness, especially concerning the said shadow wielder. He’s overheard your conversations with Rhiannon a few times — no one can blame him when Rhiannon’s thoughts are like a red alarm signal— which doesn’t help when it comes down to making moves around you.

Your face finally finds the juncture between his neck and his jaw. Xaden lets out a sigh and hugs you a little tighter to his chest, unable to resist from brushing a soft kiss over your hair.

“You’re safe here doll,” his other hand smoothes over the back of your head.

“I know. I just don’t want you to deal with all of this when you’re barely holding up,” your voice is a muffled whisper against his skin.

Goosebumps explode along the back of his neck. He tightens his hold just a little, “you have nothing to worry about, especially not when it concerns me.”

“How can I not? All these people depend on you.”

You have a point.

When you speak up next, your soprano is laced with hesitation, “Can you promise me something?”

That’s when you tilt your face up and realise how close you are, nose brushing against the side of his jaw. Xaden gazes down, unmoving, a silent unspoken question of whether you’ll move away or stay.

To his surprise, you don’t, instead continuing with, “talk to me, when it gets too much. Because I’m sure it does at some point.”

Xaden opens his mouth to protest but you beat him to it, “—you can lie to everyone else, Xaden. But not to me. I see it in your eyes, the way you hide because you think it’s better for everyone.”

“There are things I keep to myself because it’s necessary.”

“But I’m here, and I’m not your enemy,” fiery determination blazes through your eyes, causing his chest to tighten because dear gods he can feel his heart quicken at the care and tenderness that resonates from your every pore.

If he had any doubts about your love for him, about the way your heart beats for him— then this is enough proof.

“Please,” you add softly, as if that might help, “just talk to me. Don’t keep it all to yourself until it’s too late.”

Xaden just stares you down.

You stare back, face flushed.

But your gaze is unwavering, committed. Filled with a kind of love that fills him to the core like the warmth of sunlight on a cold winter morning.

Almost impulsively, his hand moves up. It’s a gentle movement, taking his time so that you can pull away if you want to, skimming up your shoulder and along your collarbone before resting at the cradle of your jaw.

And when he speaks next, his alto is rough, hoarse with want.

“Can I kiss you?”

Your mouth parts in surprise.

His eyes lock on yours. Intense. Swirling with desire. And something else.

Something that makes your heart flip.

“Promise me… first.” You stutter, nervously eyeing him, though clearly determined to make him say it.

“I promise.”

You don’t hesitate; closing the distance before he can and pressing a soft, clumsy kiss along his mouth.

The change is immediate. An arm slips around your waist and he tugs you to him with such force you topple halfway onto his lap with a cry, one that he silences with another deep kiss filled with tongue and—

Oh. Your toes curl in on themselves as you grasp for anything— anything that might anchor you— only to find purchase along his rider’s tunic all while he tilts your head back to ravage your mouth.

Sparks fill your vision as Xaden kisses thought and logic away so that the only thing left is that pulsing desire that floods your bloodstream and warms your skin, rendering it flush in his arms. Both his hands slip down to grip your hips with an insistent tug, pinning you to him with a muffled growl against your lips. You let out a breathy moan in response, your own fingers fluttering up to find the back of his neck and spearing your digits through his raven locks as he keeps kissing you senseless.

Xaden pulls away so suddenly that your mouths disconnect with a ‘pop’.

You startle, blinking up at the shadow wielder through the heated daze clouding every judgement.

“We said we’d go at your pace,” he murmurs out in a rasp, throat bobbing as he swallows.

“We—did,” you agree, voice hoarse.

“If I continue I won’t be able to stop.”

“Okay,” you inhale a shaky breath, “okay.”

But you make no move to shuffle off, and his hands are unconsciously tracing soft circles along your hip through the material of your healer uniform.

It’s doing nothing to stop the heat pulsating in-between your legs.

You bite down onto your lower lip and Xaden lets out a soft groan, “you need to stop doing that,” he mutters as he tugs your lower lip away from your teeth, “you’re making this harder than it already is.”

You wince, “I’m sorry.”

But the desire in his onyx orbs is clearly evident, “I’m not,” he whispers.

“I should—“ you practically force yourself to look away, think of something else entirely to stop your brain from turning to Xaden goo, “I should go to bed.”

“You should.”

Still, you both stay where you are, as though not wanting this particular moment to end.

It’s only when you feel the gentlest of nudges along your hipbone that your eyes flutter back up to his face, and the tenderness evident in his eyes does a funny thing to your tummy.

“Come on,” he whispers it out gently, a gentle breath of words, “let’s get you to bed.”

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