Ruthless 🗡️/ Fourth Wing

Chapter~23

I tossed and turned in bed, my skin slick with sweat, my body overheating with the kind of intensity I couldn't understand. My pulse raced as though something was tugging at the very core of me, demanding release. The heat inside me was like a slow-burning fire that refused to be tamed. No matter how many times I shifted, how many pillows I rearranged, I couldn't escape the oppressive warmth.

The silk of my nightgown clung to my skin uncomfortably, as though it, too, sensed the unease in my bones. I groaned, frustration rising, and finally, with a decision made in the haze of my heat-driven delirium, I pushed myself out of bed. The cold stone floor met my feet as I slid on my boots—combat boots, of all things—and stumbled towards the door.

A cool breath of air would do me good, I thought. I didn't need to think much more than that. The heat inside was becoming unbearable, and I needed to feel something other than the overwhelming pulse of it in my veins.

The hallway was still as I moved through it, my footfalls soft against the stone. Every step felt like a small rebellion against the pressure building inside me. I needed to break free, and the night outside called to me like a promise of relief.

When I reached the courtyard doors, the cool night air rushed over me, and I inhaled deeply, welcoming the chill against my heated skin. The fire inside me abated only slightly, but it was enough to steady my breath, to help me focus again.

Then I smelled it.

The familiar, almost intoxicating scent of Churum.

It took me a moment to process it, but when I did, I followed the scent, my feet carrying me across the cobblestones with a sudden sense of purpose. I moved without thought, guided by the heady mixture of memories and need.

And there he was.

Xaden stood against the stone wall, his back relaxed, one arm crossed over his chest while the other held a lit Churum between his fingers. The faint ember glowed in the dark, casting a warm light on his face as he exhaled a cloud of smoke.

He turned when he heard me, his sharp eyes locking onto mine instantly, a familiar flicker of recognition passing between us. His gaze was heavy, intense, and I could feel it like a physical touch, making my chest tighten, my breath hitch.

"Nora," he said, his voice low, smooth. "What are you doing out here dressed like that?"

I glanced down at myself, suddenly aware of my attire—nothing but a sheer silk nightgown, black silk wrapped loosely around my waist, combat boots hanging untied on my feet. It wasn't much, but it was enough for me to feel the sudden rush of self-consciousness hit me, a flush creeping across my skin.

But the heat still thrummed beneath my skin, and I shook off the feeling. This wasn't the time for insecurities.

I tried to shrug it off, but the words came out sharper than I intended. "Why are you smoking? I thought you stopped."

Xaden took another long drag, his lips curling slightly around the joint, before exhaling slowly. His eyes never left mine as he did, that smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

"I'm sure you're out here for the same reason I am," he said, his voice laced with something dark and knowing. "This little drug just numbs the feeling."

"The feeling?" I echoed, confusion mingling with curiosity.

He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he held out the joint, the smoke drifting lazily toward me. I hesitated. It had been a long time since I'd taken Churum, but there was something about tonight that felt different, like I was on the edge of something I couldn't escape.