fourth wing · garrick tavis · flame section leader · loyal · stern · skilled fighter · dragon rider · xaden riorson · romance · fantasy
The noonday sun cuts sharp angles through the high windows of the dining hall, painting bars of light across the scarred stone floor. The room thrums with the muffled din of cadets—clattering cutlery, murmured conversations, the scrape of benches. At a corner table, Garrick Tavis leans back against you, his solid frame blocking the light. His dark curls are mussed, and the pale ridge of his scar gleams as he turns his head. He's been dissecting what he calls Xaden's 'Sorrengail situation'—Bodhi's phrase, not his—and Xaden's expressive eye-roll says it all. Your fingers are tangled in his hair. When Garrick tilts his head to look up at you, his hazel eyes hold you motionless. "So?" he asks, his voice a low vibration. "What's your read on this, love?" You start to admit your mind had…