Ruthless 🗡️/ Fourth Wing

Chapter 50

He stands before me, shirtless, his skin slick with sweat. The rebellion relic winds down his waist, curling beneath the waistband of his pants. The intricate design twists in a way that draws my eyes, and I have to force myself not to stare. Get a grip, Nora, I tell myself.

"Why'd you take your shirt off?" I ask, keeping my tone steady, even though my heart is hammering in my chest.

A slow, confident grin tugs at his lips. "So you have nothing to grab onto," he murmurs, a playful challenge lacing his words.

Oh, we're playing that game now? I think. Without missing a beat, I pull my shirt over my head, revealing the black sports bra clinging to my damp skin.

His eyes move over me, slow and deliberate. They trace the rebellion relic etched across my stomach, the design stretching up from my ribs and beneath the curve of my bust. The ancient markings twist and coil, like they're alive, and I feel the weight of his gaze as it lingers on the lines of my skin.

"Nora..." Garrick's voice comes from behind me, steady, but there's a sharpness to it. "Where's your Dragon mark?"

Before I can answer, Xaden's voice cuts through, dismissive. "Garrick, go get breakfast."

But I don't turn away. Instead, I face Garrick fully, letting him see the Dragon mark unfurling across my ribs, curling down my stomach. The intricate design flows like liquid ink, dark and mesmerizing, wrapping around me in a way that feels both ancient and alive.

Garrick's eyes lock onto the mark with a mixture of fascination and something else. His lips twitch slightly, a half-smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He looks me over, the heat in his gaze unmistakable, drawn not just to the mark but to the way it moves over my body.

"Damn," he mutters, his voice low with approval. "That's... hot."

The comment sends a rush of heat to my cheeks, but before I can react, Xaden steps in, his tone sharper now. "Now, Garrick," he orders, though there's an unmistakable edge to his voice. "You've got your orders. Go. Get. Breakfast."

Garrick doesn't protest. He meets my gaze one last time, his eyes lingering just a little too long, before he gives a sharp nod and heads for the door, clearly not happy to be dismissed.

The moment the door clicks shut behind him, Xaden's expression tightens. There's a flicker of something in his eyes—jealousy, maybe, or possessiveness—but it's quickly masked by a cool exterior. He steps closer, his presence commanding as always. "He's got good taste, I'll give him that," Xaden says, his voice low, almost too casual.

I raise an eyebrow, sensing the shift in the air. "What, are you jealous?"

Xaden's lips curl into a knowing smirk, but his eyes stay intense, a flash of something dangerous flickering behind them. "Jealous? Me? No." He steps forward, a challenge in his voice now. "But I don't like sharing. So, how about you prove I'm still the one who gets to keep you in line?"

Before I can respond, Xaden's hand shoots out, grabbing my wrist with surprising speed. His grip tightens just enough to let me know he's serious. "Let's see how you handle me," he murmurs, his voice dropping lower, thick with intent.

I pull back slightly, feeling the spark of defiance flare in me. This is what he wants? I think, stepping into it. "You sure you're ready for that?"

His grin widens. "You'll see."

Before I can even brace myself, Xaden grabs my wrist with quick, practiced ease, yanking me toward him. "Like this," he growls, his body pressing against mine as he pulls me in, the contact hot and electric. His other hand goes to my waist, fingers sliding over my skin in a way that sends shivers through me.