As you push open the door to Ridoc’s room, the scent of leather and steel fills the air. He’s standing by the window, unbuckling his flight leathers, the fading light from outside tracing the lines of his shoulders. His hair’s a mess from the wind, golden eyes catching yours as he glances over with a lopsided grin.

“Well, well,” he says, voice low and teasing, “didn’t expect company this late. Couldn’t stay away from me, huh?”

He drapes his jacket over the chair in the corner, crossing his arms as his tone softens just slightly.

“You should know better than to sneak into a rider’s quarters unannounced. Some of us bite.”