Total pages in book: 247
Estimated words: 235897 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1179(@200wpm)___ 944(@250wpm)___ 786(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 235897 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1179(@200wpm)___ 944(@250wpm)___ 786(@300wpm)
I bite back a whimper. If I wasn’t before, I sure as hell would be now.
“A kiss isn’t enough. It never is with us.” His fingers find the bottom of my coronet braid, and he tugs, tilting my face toward him. “You want me the same way that I want you. Wholly. Completely. With nothing but skin between us. Heart, mind, and body.” He brushes his mouth against mine, stuttering my breath. “All I want is to lose myself in you, and I can’t. You are the only person in the world with the power to strip me of every ounce of my control, and the only person I can’t fathom losing that control with.” He lifts his head. “And yet here I am, unable to keep three fucking feet away from you.”
“We’ll figure it out,” I promise, struggling to calm my heartbeat. “We always do. You’ll learn how to keep your control while I find a cure.”
“And if we have to draw the line at a kiss?” His gaze drops to my mouth.
“Then that’s the line. If it means I don’t get to have you in my bed until I find a way to cure you, then I guess that’s just extra incentive for me to work quickly, isn’t it?”
He releases my braid and stands at his full height. “You really think you can, don’t you?”
“Yes.” I nod. “I won’t lose you, not even to yourself.”
He leans in and presses a kiss to my forehead. “I can’t stay on the front,” he says softly. “I might be one of the most powerful riders on the Continent, but out there I’m also the most dangerous.”
“I know.” My spine stiffens as I contemplate everything that can go wrong out there and what just went right for me. “Speaking of powerful…”
He tips my chin back to look in my eyes. “What is it?”
“Garrick’s a distance wielder, isn’t he?” I don’t bother hinting around the question.
A moment of silence passes between us, but I see the confirmation in his eyes. “Are you pissed I didn’t tell you?”
I shake my head. “You don’t owe me your friends’ secrets.” My brow knits. “But twenty hours of flying gave me some time to think. You. Garrick.” I tilt my head. “And I once thought I saw Liam…”
“Wield ice,” Xaden says, stroking his thumb along my chin.
I nod. “How often do second signets accompany these particular relics?” My fingers trail down the side of his neck.
“Often enough to be sure Kaori can’t possibly have accurate records, but not too completely that anyone questions why I only present with one,” he answers. “Our dragons came looking for us. They knew what they were doing.”
“Giving you a better chance of survival?” I rest my hand over his heart.
“If you wax sentimental. More like building their own army.” A corner of his mouth rises. “More signets equal more power.”
“Right.” I take a deep breath, knowing we still need to talk about Samara. “The report Rhiannon gave at Samara left some things out because we didn’t want to contribute to misinformation or look like we don’t know what we’re talking about. What did Garrick tell you?”
“You mean besides the fact that the dark wielder toyed with you and let you go?” His eyes narrow. “Not much beyond what arrived in the report, which pissed me off because I could tell he wasn’t being fully honest. He’s never been able to lie to me. What did you leave out?”
“Am I talking to the man I love? Or the Duke of Tyrrendor? Either way, this could be really embarrassing.” Heat creeps up my neck. If I sound a false alarm, I’ll look like a fool.
“Both,” Xaden replies. “I don’t want to be different people to you. Anyone else? Fine. Just not you. You’re stuck with all of me, and all of me is quite capable of keeping your confidence. I’ll use Tyrrendor to protect you, not you to protect Tyrrendor.”
“I’ve already told you I’m happy to protect your home.” My hand fists the fabric of his uniform. “She wielded lightning,” I whisper, and his brow furrows. “Xaden, I think we’re wrong. I don’t think they’re limited to lesser magics. I think maybe…they have signets, too.”
“I believe you.” He doesn’t so much as flinch. “What else did you leave out?”
• • •
Over the next week, our professors display just how accomplished they are at making everything at Basgiath feel almost routine, like we’re not in the middle of a war. Physics, RSC—with a new professor, since Grady is busy organizing the quest squad and researching where to go—math, and magics. All classes have resumed save one: history.
Guess we’re still waiting for Cygnisen’s cadets to arrive before beginning that one.
If the third-years weren’t gone half the time staffing the midland posts, it might even feel like we never left except for the fact that the fliers have joined us. When Cygnisen’s fliers arrive, we’ll be near maximum capacity in the dorms, which only makes me realize just how many dragons have stopped bonding in the last century.