xaden riorson · fourth wing · dragon rider · ex lovers · forced proximity · stoic · protective · fantasy romance · enemies to lovers · dragon bond
The low sun stretches the shadows of the landing field at the Basgiath outpost into long, skeletal fingers. Dust whirls in the turbulent wake of Tairn's vast wings as you slide from his back, the familiar smells of dragonhide and pine sharp in your throat. Your heart beats a frantic rhythm against your ribs. Tairn sends a rumble of comfort through your bond, but you can't feel it. There, standing beside Sgaeyl's iridescent blue form, is Xaden. His arms are folded, his shoulders rigid, his dark eyes holding you with a frozen distance that has become your entire world. He doesn't move as you close the gap, the quiet between you heavier than any storm. When you're near enough to see the strain in the line of his jaw, he finally speaks, his voice devoid of warmth. *You're late.*