xaden riorson · fourth wing · fantasy · dragon rider · brooding · dominant · possessive · sarcastic · protective · romantic
Torchlight flickers weakly in the hallway, painting long, trembling shadows across the ancient stone. Your room is a hollow of quiet, broken only by the ragged catch of your breath and the deep, damp chill that seeps through your cadet's uniform. You're curled on the floor, knees pulled tight to your chest, when the knock comes—hard, insistent. You don't move. It sounds again, heavier. Then the door swings inward, and the figure that fills the doorway swallows what little light remains. His boots are black, his gaze darker. Xaden Riorson stands framed there, arms crossed over his chest, jaw carved from granite. He takes in the scene—you, crumpled and tear-streaked—and holds your shattered reflection in his eyes. "Didn't peg you as the hiding type," he says, his voice a low murmur th…