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Walking on a Dream | Chapter 13 - Still Yes

I let her have that much before I take the next inch for myself, pushing her back onto the desk, her thighs parting around me as I clear a stack of papers with one sweep of my arm. The desk complains under her weight before she does and the papers scatter across the floor in a soft, absurd flutter, ink and diagrams flashing white in the corner of my eye, which should be enough to put sense back into the room, but it isn't. She gasps. The sound is small and uncontrolled and nothing she can sharpen into a weapon. I want another one immediately. Violently enough that the entire project of getting her out of my system becomes laughable. But I let the thought pass through without giving it somewhere to land, because looking at it means stopping, and I have no intention of stopping.

Walking on a Dream | Chapter 12 - Bad Timing

She has somehow made a braid look like a warning, glaringly bright and impossible to ignore against the dull gray of the quadrant. One of her hands is braced near the trays, the other moving with efficient precision over the food. The food I'm certain she's using to poison her challenge opponents, and reason alone to avoid her line. But I'm not feeling reasonable today. Reasonable men don’t dream about first-years and then queue for poisoned eggs—I do. I step into her line anyway and her eyes flick up as I approach, long enough for recognition to surface and vanish beneath a flat, pleasant expression I would believe if I didn't know better. Looking at her in the light, composed and braided and entirely indifferent to my morning, makes the last few hours feel indecent in a way the dark had almost let me ignore. "Sorrengail," I say, as I stop in front of her station. "Wingleader." The spoon she's serving with makes a sharp little crack against the metal of my tray as the eggs land harder than the task requires. "Sorry, Sir," she says, voice not even a little bit sorry. "Fourth Wing has challenges today." I let my eyes drop from hers to the food, slow enough to be deliberate. "Did you prepare?"

Walking on a Dream | Chapter 11 - Poison Either Way

Sawyer stops packing. "Those are different lists?" "Obviously." "High honor," Sawyer says, already back to his bag. Rhiannon looks back down at the page. “Why am I under ‘intimidating but worth it’?” “Because I respect women,” Ridoc says. The laugh tears out of me before I can decide whether to allow it, and the ease of it surprises me. The strange, unfamiliar warmth of being ridiculous with these three, and how little it asks of me. So I reach over, pull Rhiannon's catastrophe of a notebook out of her overstuffed bag, start fixing the mess she's made of it and let myself have the rest.

Her mind is a weapon that her body probably never will be, not in the traditional sense, but she can do enough. Enough to survive. Enough to become something, and I find I’m desperate to see what that is when she stops fighting at a disadvantage. "And you’ll continue to train. But with Liam." I pause. Let it land. "And me." The confusion that crosses her face makes the offer more than worth it. She actually sputters, which is a sound I didn’t know Violet Sorrengail was capable of producing. "You? Are you insane?" Yes. Sgaeyl’s contribution arrives uninvited and unhelpful, as always. "Or, I don’t know, fucking busy?" Violence continues, apparently not finished being incredulous. "You know. Leading a wing. Organizing clandestine meetings. Or whatever else it is you do."

Walking on a Dream | Chapter 10 - Not Her

Her soft hand comes to rest over mine where it is still wrapped around her throat, small against my knuckles. Gentle where she should be fighting. Warm where I am still made of threat. My thumb moves once, barely, over the frantic beat beneath her skin. That’s what stuns me, what breaks through the lingering disbelief that she could have every reason to ruin us and still choose not to. Our eyes are locked, our hands still touching, and she's looking at me like she has already answered my question and is waiting for me to answer hers. I don't let her go, but I give her exactly one inch of space, and those impossible eyes stay on mine. I should recover what I can of this night, start running through every contingency on how to keep her contained without killing her. That is the only sensible next move. I don't make it.

Walking on a Dream | Chapter 9 - After Curfew

"Okay," Rhiannon says, grinning again. "So what you need is someone who is definitely not Dain and also definitely not actively plotting your death." "Low bar. And yet, shockingly difficult to meet when half this quadrant wants to knife me." "Well," Rhiannon shrugs, like she’s giving the matter real thought. "You held a blade to Barlowe's dick. Could be something to explore there. People might be into that here." That gets a laugh out of me. "The only people who can't kill me are squadmates and—" I make a broad gesture at the room. "No offense, but no." "What about Luca?" Rhiannon says, straight-faced. "She talks enough that I’m sure her tongue has stamina." I turn my whole body to face her as my brain takes a second to catch up to what she just said. "What?" "She's annoying as fuck," Rhiannon says, not even blinking. "But it might shut her up for a while. Win-win."

Walking on a Dream | Chapter 8 - Where to Press

Aetos is at the opposite end of the table, practically vibrating with self-importance over his new squad leader position. He's been staring at Sorrengail through the entire meal, shooting her pathetically longing looks every few moments without any attempt at discretion. If he's looked at the silver girl five times, you've looked six. Sgaeyl's disappointment rolls through the bond, each word measured and damning. She's been on me like this all morning. Berated me through the entirety of flight maneuvers for sloppy timing, for drifting half a second behind her cues, for thoughts about Sorrengail I can’t seem to shut down. If this obsession served a purpose—extracting secrets, identifying threats—I'd tolerate it. Obsess over how her hair catches the light again, and I'll drop you mid-flight. See if the rocks are interested in your poetry. Tempting, I send back. She doesn't dignify that with a response.

Maybe that's just because home is here," she said, tipping her face to the sky. "I've never felt the way I feel in this city anywhere else." When Violet looked back, a small smile curved his mouth, genuine and unhurried. "I know exactly what you mean," he said, and for once, there was nothing guarded in it. The summer breeze coming off the bay loosened a few tendrils from her braid, silver-tipped ends catching the light like the water below them, and she was almost certain Xaden's eyes tracked the movement before he caught himself and looked back at the bay. Xaden stood first and offered his hand to help her up from the bench. His palm was warm, callused at the base of his fingers, and once she was standing, it took him a second too long to let go.

Walking on a Dream | Chapter 7 - Keep it Hidden

"Wingleader Riorson to you, Squad Leader." His voice is mocking, but his eyes are hard as they cut to Dain. "Now get to class. I’ll make sure your little girlfriend here gets to hers." Dain inhales like he’s about to argue, and I can feel the disaster forming before he says a word. His hand is still on my arm, and Xaden is still watching it. For every second Dain stays, everyone around us gets the story Xaden is trying to hand them. I get there first. "Dain." I look at his hand on my arm, then back at his face. "Go. I’ll be fine." His expression tightens, torn between the order he’s just been given and whatever protective instinct has decided to prove Riorson’s point for him. "Please," I add, quieter this time, because I know exactly what kind of disaster we’re standing on the edge of. "Go." "What a way to start off your first day as a squadleader, Aetos. Ignoring a direct command from a senior officer? Not like you." Xaden’s tone stays almost pleasant as he waits for Dain to remember exactly where they stand. Dain stiffens and stares at me, and I nod again and he finally walks off, leaving me with the two towering Tyrrish assholes in front of me. Well, one confirmed asshole. Tavis has been silently watching, looking far too entertained for someone pretending not to be involved. His status remains under review.