A week. A whole, long, shit-filled week that had been jam packed with avoiding Rhiannon as much as possible, training your already weary body, and studying and passing classes. You were exhausted. Sleep was occasionally dreamless, not that you remembered dreams, but considering you got so little of it you’d hope it was a respite.

The bed was cold without Xaden there, no arms holding you, no quick hard kisses to say goodby, so languid lazy ones in the morning sun when you could just exist.

Affection deprived, and ‘taking things slow’ again, you missed him. You craved him. And you were about this close to caving and crushing your mouth to his.

After Tairn grumbling about the week of him not seeing Sgaeyl and reciting his lineage at least twice, you landed after eight hours airborne in Samara.

Normally, you’d notice your sister, but this wasn’t just ‘normally’. You’d missed Xaden like nothing you’d ever missed before. You spotted him below you, waiting to catch your weary and exhausted body, his arms out, and so you slide down into his arms, calloused fingers stroking your hair before diving in and gripping gently.