Whisper [Fourth Wing]

Chapter Seven

I'M AN IDIOT. An absolute, love-sick idiot who cannot be trusted to make adult decisions. I should just be locked away and told exactly who to talk to and who not to because clearly I couldn't manage on my own. Every time I tried to make a sensible choice, it came back to bite me in the ass and I ended up right back where I started.

After the disaster that was last year, I'd sworn off Xaden Riorson and all the drama that came with him. Look how long that had lasted! Barely two months later and I woke up in a bed next to him. I was screwed. Like royally screwed. Both metaphorically, and literally last night.

The morning sunlight filters delicately through the parted curtains, casting a soft glow upon the room, as if the universe itself conspires to illuminate the gravity of my predicament. The air hangs heavy with the scent of Xaden's cologne. Though, maybe that leathery smell was his natural scent. I wouldn't be surprised. The man was near perfect. Having a natural scent that intoxicating would be the last thing that shocked me. 

Shifting in the bed so that my head is propped up on my elbow, I watch the slow rise and fall of his chest, studying the movement of the muscles in his back. He had a lot of them. And they were very visible. Very, very visible. Even when he had a shirt on, I found myself tracing the familiar lines through the fabric. I knew every inch of him like the back of my hand.

My fingers trace over his arm, running up the toned bicep muscles and past his shoulder to where the rebellion relic ends. It sparkles. Beautifully like a night sky. I'm sure he hated that thing. Most of them did. But I thought it was gorgeous. Even if it did remind him of a shitty, traumatic time of his life. Maybe under different circumstances...

Shadows begin to dance upon the walls when my finger circles around the edge of his jaw and I know then that he's awake. There was no way shadows danced like that naturally.

"Get up," I tell him, pulling my hand away to throw back the covers and expose both of our naked bodies to the bitter air. Why was this room always so cold? I had a small heater that I'd managed to convince one of the third-years to give me when she left last year yet it seemed to do nothing. This room was as cold as ice.

Xaden grumbles at my side, burying his head further into my soft pillow as I push myself up from the bed. "Good morning to you too, firebird," he mumbles when he rolls onto his side, watching me pull my shirt over my head.

If it had been any other day, I'd have let him watch gladly. I'd have taken even longer to get changed because I knew he was watching. Or I'd never have gotten out the bed in the first place. But unfortunately for me, my common sense had returned after last night and I realised that would be a bad idea.

"We have a leadership meeting," I remind him, glancing around the room with a frown. I could have sworn my corset was with my shirt. To be honest...it could have been anywhere. Xaden's not exactly careful when he throws things. Least of all clothes.

"I don't mind being late," Xaden says, a smirk tilting over his lips. 

He pulls himself up from the bed, the blanket slipping to reveal the toned muscles of his chest, and reaches over his side of the bed. Gods I'd missed that being my first sight of the day. His hair ruffled from it's usual perfection so that it fell against his forehead. The delicate arch of his brows that were now relaxed in the morning light. The way his lips, slightly parted, were like a whispered invitation, tempting and mysterious.

This man was true beauty. And I had missed him.

"Looking for this?" he jeers, as he raises my discarded corset from the floor. Of course he remembers where he threw it.

I lunge forward, my fingers desperate to reclaim the garment but he is quicker, deftly snatching it away, leaving me empty-handed and vulnerable. His hand wraps around my wrist, effortlessly pulling me back onto the plush expanse of the bed as I let out a groan.