“You told me to get over myself, remember? So why the fuck would you care if I’m upset?” I fold my arms across my chest, choosing anger over lust.

“I told you that you’d have to develop a stomach for killing. I never said you’d get over it.” He drops my braid.

“I should, though, right?” I shake my head and retreat into the center of the room. “We spend three years here learning how to become killers, promoting and praising those who do it best.”

He doesn’t even flinch, just watches me in that observant, infuriatingly calm way of his.

“I’m not mad that Jack is dead. We both know he’s wanted to kill me since Parapet, and eventually he would have. I’m mad that him dying changes me.” I tap my chest right above my heart. “Dain told me that this place strips away the niceties to reveal who someone really is.”

“Not going to argue there.” He watches me as I begin to pace.

“And I just keep thinking that when I was younger, I asked my dad what would happen if I wanted to be a rider like Mom or Brennan, and he told me that I wasn’t like them. That my path was different, except this place has peeled away my civility, my niceties, and it turns out my power is more destructive than any of theirs.” I stop right in front of him and hold up my hands. “And it’s not like I can blame this power on Tairn, not that I would. Signets are based on the rider, just fueled by the dragon, which means this has always been there under the surface, just waiting to be unleashed. And to think—” A knot forms in my throat. “All this time, I had this tiny, driving hope that I would be like Brennan, and that would be the twist in my little fable. That my signet would be mending, and I could put all the broken things back together. But instead, I’m made to split them apart. How many people will I kill with this?”

His eyes soften. “As many as you choose. Just because you gained power today doesn’t mean you lost agency.”

“What is wrong with me?” I shake my head, my hands clenching into fists. “Any other rider would be thrilled.” Even now, I feel the power simmering just beneath my skin.

“You’ve never been like any other rider.” He moves closer but doesn’t touch me. “Probably because you never wanted to be here.”

Gods, I want him to touch me, to wipe away the ugliness of the day, to make me feel something‚ anything but this welling shame.

“None of you wanted to be here.” I glance pointedly at the rebellion relic on his neck. “You’re all doing just fine.”

He looks at me, really looks, and it feels like he sees entirely too much. “Most of us would burn this place to the ground if we had the option, but every marked one wants to be here because it’s our only path for survival. It’s not the same for you. You wanted a quiet life full of books and facts. You wanted to record the battles, not be in them. There is nothing wrong with you. You get to be angry that you killed a man today. You get to be angry that man tried to kill your friend. You get to feel however you want within these walls.”

He’s close enough now that I can feel his body heat through the thin cotton of my dressing gown.

“But not outside them.” It’s not a question.

“We’re riders,” he says, as if that’s explanation enough. He takes hold of my hands and brings them to his chest. “So do whatever you need to get it out. You want to yell? Yell at me. You want to hit something? Hit me. I can take it.”

Hitting him is the last thing I want to do, and suddenly, I’m done fighting it.

“Come on,” he whispers. “Show me what you’ve got.”

I surge up on my toes and kiss him.

Though not forbidden, cadets are strongly encouraged not to develop strong romantic attachments while studying in the quadrant for the efficiency of the unit.

—Article Five, Section Seven

The Dragon Rider’s Codex

CHAPTER

THIRTY

His body goes rigid for one beat, two, and then he spins us impossibly fast, putting my back against the door, jostling the frame. Whoa. He captures my wrists in one hand and holds them prisoner above my head. “Violet,” Xaden groans against my mouth. The plea in his tone floods my veins with a whole different form of power. Knowing he’s just as affected by our attraction as I am is a rush. “This isn’t what you want.”

“It’s exactly what I want,” I counter. I want to replace the anger with lust, the death of the day with the pulse-pounding assurance of my own life, and I know he’s capable of delivering all that and more. “You said to do whatever I need.” I arch my back, pressing the tips of my breasts against his chest.

His breathing changes, and there’s a war in his eyes that I’m determined to win.

It’s time to stop dancing around this unbearable tension and break it.

He leans down, his mouth only inches from mine. “And I’m telling you that I’m the last thing you need.” The barely leashed growl of his voice rumbles up through his chest, and every nerve ending in my body flares to life.

“Are you suggesting someone else?” My heart races as I chance calling his bluff.

“Fuck no.” The unmistakable flare of jealousy narrows his eyes for a heartbeat before his hips pin mine to the door, and my instant relief at his answer is replaced by a jolt of pure lust. I can see that infamous control of his hovering on the edge, balancing precariously on the point of a knife. All he needs is one. Little. Push. And I’m about to shamelessly shove.

“Good.” I tilt my head up to his and draw his bottom lip between mine, sucking before gently nipping him with my teeth. “Because I only want you, Xaden.”

The words breach something within him, and he gives.

Finally.

Our mouths collide, and the kiss is hot and hard and completely out of our control. Need streaks down my spine as he takes my ass in his hands and hauls me against his hips, my back raking the ridges of the door behind me as I use it as leverage to push closer to his strength.

I wrap my legs around his waist and lock my ankles. My dressing gown rises with the motion, but I don’t care, not with the all-consuming way he’s kissing me. The caress of his mouth and the strokes of his wicked tongue steal every logical thought, and my world narrows to this kiss, this minute, this man. Mine. In this moment, Xaden Riorson is mine.

Or maybe I’m his. Who fucking cares as long as he keeps kissing me?

Heat floods my body in an addictive rush, setting every inch of my skin aflame as his mouth slides down my neck in a sensual assault that makes me moan.

“Gods,” he says against my throat, and then we’re moving.

Wood scrapes the floor and crashes before my ass hits the desk, and my ankles fall from the small of his back when he leans over me, spearing his fingers through my hair at the nape of my neck as he takes my mouth again. I kiss him back with a hunger I’ve only known with him.

My hands fly back to brace my weight, knocking anything and everything out of my way, sending whatever careening to the floor. The clock stops ticking.

“You’ll hate me in the morning. You. Don’t. Really. Want. This.” He punctuates each word with a kiss along my jaw, making his way to my ear. He bites the lobe, and my core liquefies, going molten.

“Stop telling me what I want.” I breathe raggedly and thread my fingers through the short strands of his hair, tilt my head, giving him better access. He takes it, working his way down my neck to where it curves into my shoulder.

Fuck, that feels good. Every touch of his mouth to my heated skin is flame to kindling, and I suck in a sharp breath when he lingers on a sensitive spot, taking his time. But then he stills again, his breath hot and wet against the side of my neck.

My brow furrows with an unwelcome thought. “Unless you don’t want me.”

“Does this feel like I don’t want you?” He takes my hand and slides it between our bodies, and my fingers curl around his length through his leathers. I whimper with pure want at the feel of how hard he is for me.

“I always fucking want you.” He groans as I squeeze. Then he lifts his head, seizes my gaze with his, and I recognize the wild need in those gold-flecked depths. It mirrors my own. “You walk into a room, and I can’t look away. I get anywhere near you, and this is what happens. Instantly hard. Fucking hell, I can barely think when you’re around.” He rocks his hips into my hand, and my grip tightens along with my stomach. “Wanting you is not the problem here.”

“Then what is?”

“I’m trying to do the honorable thing and not take advantage of you after you’ve had a shit day.” His jaw flexes.