Fourth Wing (The Empyrean #1) Read Online Rebecca Yarros

Categories Genre: Dragons, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal Tags Authors: Series: The Empyrean Series by Rebecca Yarros
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Total pages in book: 215
Estimated words: 206625 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1033(@200wpm)___ 827(@250wpm)___ 689(@300wpm)
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He makes a decent point, but it doesn’t mean I have to like it.

Once we’re out of sight of the others, he backs me against the largest boulder and then lowers into a crouch before me.

“What are you doing?” I run my fingers through his hair just because I can. The fact that I get to touch this man is absolutely mind-blowing, and I plan on taking every advantage of the privilege while I can.

“Your legs are stiff.” He starts at my calves, working the knots loose with his strong hands.

“I guess we can’t really leave until the dragons are ready anyway, right?” His touch feels downright decadent.

“Right. We have another ten minutes or so.” He flashes a wicked grin at me.

Ten minutes. Considering we really have no idea what the rest of the day will bring, I’m more than happy to grab ahold of what time we have.

I groan as my muscles melt and my head falls back to rest on the boulder. “That hurts so wonderfully. Thank you.”

He laughs, making his way up to the tense muscles of my thighs. “Trust me, my motives aren’t altruistic, Violence. I’ll take any excuse I can get to put my hands on you.”

The scruff on his cheeks scrapes my palms as I slide my hands down the sides of his face to cup the back of his neck. “The feeling is more than mutual.”

His breathing changes when he reaches the top of my thighs, his fingers kneading my muscles into outright submission. “I’m sorry about this morning.”

“What?”

He looks up at me, the sunlight catching the gold specks in his eyes, and arches his scarred brow. “We were in the middle of something, if you don’t remember.”

A slow smile spreads across my face. “Oh, I remember.” The top button of his flight jacket is undone, and I grip the fabric and tug him toward me. At what point is this constant craving for him going to be assuaged? I’ve had him multiple times in the past twenty-four hours and could still go another round…or three. “Is it wrong to wish we’d had time to finish?”

“Not sure I’ll ever be finished.” He rises, every plane of his body caressing mine on the way up. “I’m way too fucking greedy when it comes to you.”

He slants his head over mine and blurs out the rest of the world with a slow, luxurious kiss. His tongue slides between my parted lips to glide against mine like he has absolutely no other plans for the day but to memorize every corner of my mouth.

My entire body flares to life, then starts to simmer when he kisses a path down my throat. He palms my waist, pulling my curves flush with his hard angles, and I’m nothing but heat and need. My heart pounds so hard, it sounds like wingbeats in my ears. Gods, I’ll never get enough of this.

He groans, one hand sliding to my ass. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

I wind my arms around his neck. “I was thinking you are exactly as I predicted the first time you took me in my room.”

“Oh yeah?” He draws back, curiosity sparking in his eyes. “And what exactly was that?”

“A very dangerous addiction.” My gaze skims over the silver line of his scar, the thick lashes so many women would kill for, and over the bump in his nose to that perfectly sculpted mouth. I’ve already told him that I love him, so it’s not like I’m keeping secrets over here. Hell, compared to him, I’m an open book. “Impossible to sate.”

His eyes darken. “I’m going to keep you,” he promises, just like he did last night. Or was it this morning? “You’re mine, Violet.”

I lift my chin. “Only if you’re mine.”

“I’ve been yours for longer than you could ever imagine.” As if the words untether him, he clutches the nape of my neck and kisses me long and hard, stealing every breath, every thought beyond the sweep of his tongue and the rising tide of need that heats my skin.

Xaden yanks his mouth away with a gasp, breaking the kiss and cocking his head to the side as if listening for something.

“What’s wrong?” I ask. He’s gone rigid beneath my arms.

“Shit.” His eyes widen as he drags his gaze back to mine. “Violet, I’m so sorry—”

“Is this seriously how you dragon riders spend your time?” a woman asks from behind Xaden, her voice like velvet dragged over a gravel road.

He spins around so quickly, he’s a blur. Shadows envelop me, thick as a thundercloud.

I can’t see shit.

“Xaden!” someone yells and multiple pairs of feet come crashing through the brush. Bodhi, maybe?

“Silly to hide what’s already been seen,” the woman says, her tone curt. “And if rumors are true, there’s only one silver-haired rider in your death factory of a college, which means that’s General Sorrengail’s youngest.”


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