After graduation.
“Haven’t let myself think past this week, let alone all the way to graduation.” Not when there are some very difficult questions I’m not ready to ask.
“Look, I know you’re…aggravated by how long it’s taking Tairn to channel,” Rhiannon says, circling me on the mat again. “I’m just saying on this mat with me is a way safer place for you to take out that anger than the giant, shadow-wielding wingleader.”
“I don’t want to take any of my anger out on you. You’re my friend.” I gesture loosely toward Xaden. “He’s the one who stuck me with a shadow I can’t shake because he thinks I’m his weakness. But does he help me?” I lash out with the staff, and she counters. “No. Does he train me?” Another lunge, another clash of our staffs. “No. He’s remarkably good at showing up when I’m about to die and eliminating threats, but that’s it.” He sure as hell doesn’t have a problem keeping his eyes off me the way I do him.
“So there’s definitely some anger there,” Rhiannon drawls as she spins away easily.
“You would be furious if someone took your freedom away. If you had Liam at your door every morning until every night, even as seemingly great as he is.” I dodge one of her attacks.
“I appreciate that,” Liam butts in, proving my point.
“Yeah,” she agrees. “I would. And I’m pissed on your behalf. Now, let’s put that anger to use.” Rhiannon rains another series of moves down on me and I keep up, but only because she’s doing exactly what I accused her of and taking it easy on me.
Then I make the mistake of glancing over her shoulder, toward the center of the gym.
Holy. Fucking. Hot.
Xaden and Garrick have stripped off their shirts and are sparring like their lives depend on it, a blur of kicks, punches, and rippling muscle. I’ve never seen two people move that fast. It’s a beautiful, hypnotizing dance with lethal choreography that makes me hold my breath whenever Garrick goes in for the kill and Xaden deflects.
I’ve seen countless riders spar without their shirts these past months. This is nothing new. I should be absolutely immune to the male form, but I’ve never seen him shirtless.
Every edge of Xaden’s body is honed like a weapon, all sharp lines and barely leashed power. His rebellion relic twists around his upper body and stands out against the deep bronze of his skin, accentuating every punch he throws, and his stomach… I mean, how many muscles are there in the abdominals? His are so rigidly defined that I could probably count every single one if the rest of him wasn’t so damned distracting. And he has the largest dragon relic I’ve ever seen. Mine consumes the skin between shoulder blades, but Sgaeyl’s mark takes up his entire back.
And I know exactly how that body feels on top of mine, just how much power—
My hip stings, knocking me out of my trance, and I startle.
“Serves you right,” Tairn lectures.
“Pay attention!” Rhiannon yells, drawing back her staff. “I could have… Oh.” Clearly, she sees what I do, what nearly every other woman—and several of the men—are happily watching.
How can we not when the two of them are mesmerizing?
Garrick’s wider, more densely packed with muscle than Xaden, his rebellion relic only extending to his shoulder, the second largest I’ve seen. Only Xaden’s reaches his carved jawline.
“That is…” Rhiannon murmurs beside me.
“It sure is,” I agree.
“Stop objectifying our wingleader,” Liam teases.
“Is that what we’re doing?” Rhiannon asks, not bothering to look away.
My mouth waters at the muscled expanse of his back and that sculpted ass. “Yeah, I think that’s what we’re doing.”
Liam snorts.
“We could just be watching for technique.”
“Yeah. We absolutely could be.” But I’m not. I’m shamelessly wondering how his skin would feel under my fingertips, how my body would react to having every ounce of that intense focus on me. Heat races through my veins and stings my cheeks.
A repetitive smacking sound draws my attention to the right, where Ridoc is tapping out with zeal. Imogen drops him, leaving him gasping for breath on the mat, and an unwanted and absolutely illogical flash of ugly, twisted jealousy stabs me straight in the chest at the pure yearning she can’t hide in her expression as she watches Xaden and Garrick.
“If you guys are this easily distracted, we’re fucked for the Squad Battle,” Dain barks. “You can kiss any thought of visiting the front lines goodbye.”
We all snap out of it, and I shake my head like that might clear the dizzying need that demands I do more than look at Xaden, which is just…ridiculous. He only tolerates my existence because our dragons are mated, and here I am salivating over his half-naked body.
It’s a really nice half-naked body, though.
“Get back to work. We have another half hour,” Dain orders, and I feel like he’s talking directly to me, which would be the first thing he’s said since my memory got Amber killed.
“She got herself killed by breaking the Codex,” Tairn growls.
Sure enough, when I glance his way, Dain’s eyes are narrowed on me, but I must be reading his face wrong. Surely that’s not betrayal pursing his lips.
“Should we?” Rhiannon asks, lifting her staff.
“Yep, we definitely should.” I roll my shoulders, and we start again. I match her move for move, using the patterns she taught me, but she switches up the next attack.
“Stop defending and go on offense!” Tairn demands, his anger flooding my system and throwing off my footwork.
Rhiannon sweeps low and flips me onto my back, knocking the wind out of me as I collide with the mat.
I fight for air that isn’t there.
“Shit, I’m sorry, Vi.” Rhiannon drops down to a knee beside me. “Just relax and give it a second.”
