fourth wing xadens pov

chapter 39

Chapter 39: Violet (her POV btw)

My eyelids feel heavy, and the room is warm and fuzzy as I wake. Sunlight spills across the bed, shadows dancing, and a light breeze sways the thin gauzy drapes at the window. It feels like one of those perfect mornings where you have nowhere to be, all heavy and languid from hours of sleep. There is only one man who could possibly make me feel like this.  

“You’re awake.”

There he is. Xaden’s deep, gravelly voice strokes over my skin. I turn my head to one side to find him already out of bed, standing above me. Sleep still paws at me, and I blink trying to focus on his face. His hair is messy and tousled and I smile at the sight of it.

“Can I check your side?” He lifts the blankets up and my heart skips. He’s coming back to bed. I stretch up, still so tired but in the most blissful way. Sleep hovers on the edge of my mind and my limbs feel like honey. I could just curl back up and spend all day in bed with him. Sleeping, and not sleeping.

His fingers skim featherlight over my waist, lifting up my nightdress and heat pools, pushing the tiredness away. Ok, not sleeping. Gods, the way he touches me feels like molten fire.

He strokes my skin, barely touching. “Miraculous.”

The word confuses me. “What’s miraculous?” But the words come out in a croak, scratching at my throat.

“Water,” he says, and I realise how thirsty I am. He pours me a glass from the pitcher on the bedside table. “You must be parched.”

Caring, sweet Xaden is my favourite Xaden. I push myself up in the bed, leaning back into the downy pillows. “Thanks,” I say, taking the glass from him and guzzle the whole thing in one.

“You are.” He sets the empty glass back down on the table. “You are miraculous,” he says in a whisper. “I was fucking terrified, Violet. There aren’t adequate words.”

His words tug at a memory, but I can’t find it. Fear flickers in his eyes and I reach out to comfort him, trying to take it away.

“I’m fine, Xaden,” I say softly, lifting my hand to his chest.

“I thought I was going to lose you.”

Lose me? I frown. He could never lose me. Ridiculous man. I have no idea why he’s going all mushy on me now, but the softness in his voice makes me smile. He leans forward and kisses my forehead, a gentle peck of a kiss that feels so sweet and loving that my heart clenches.

“You aren’t going to lose me.” I lean forward and kiss him, determined to show him how much I belong to him. He kisses me like he’s drowning, and I melt into his lips. Gods, the way this man kisses; it sparks through every nerve ending in my body.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he says, grabbing my hands between his. “I’m not saying we won’t fight or you won’t want to throw those daggers at me when I’m inevitably an ass, but I swear I will always strive to do better.”

“Make what up to me?” I ask, but I can’t keep the smile off my face. Whatever he’s done sounds like hours of delicious make-up sex of the most exquisite kind.

“How much do you remember? By the time we got you here, the poison spread to your brain and –”

Poison. Everything comes flooding back in a rush. I pull my hand out of his, scooting up the bed and away from him as panic soars in my chest. Falling. The burn of the wound in my side. Miraculous. What’s miraculous? My heart breaking. Fucking traitor. Lightning. Raw power searing through me. Liam. My heart shattering into a million pieces. My fault. It’s my fault.