Page 282 - Fourth Wing

arms, but I keep the observation to myself.

“Thank you,” Xaden says, then flicks his hand and my door shuts with a
soft click. “Now, let me see your ribs. We’re wasting time.”

I swallow, then nod. Better to know now if they’re broken anyway. I turn

my back on him, but I can see his face in the full-length mirror as I shrug
out of the billowing sleeves of my nightdress, holding the material above

my breasts as it dips in the back to my waist. “You’ll have to—”

“I know how to handle a corset.” His jaw flexes once, and something that
reminds me of raw hunger flitters across his expression before he locks it

down, drawing my hair over my shoulder with surprising gentleness.

His fingers skim my bare skin and I suppress a shiver, locking my
muscles so I don’t arch into his touch.

What the hell is wrong with me? There’s still blood on my floor and yet
my breaths are tight for the entirely wrong reason as he makes quick work

of the laces, starting at the bottom. He wasn’t lying. He absolutely knows

his way around a corset.
“How the hell do you get yourself into this thing every morning?” he

asks, clearing his throat as inch after inch of my back is exposed.
“I’m freakishly flexible. It’s part of the whole bones-snapping, joints-

tearing thing,” I answer over my shoulder.

Our eyes meet, and warmth flutters through my stomach. The moment is
gone as quickly as it came, and he pulls my armor apart, inspecting my

right side. Gentle fingers stroke over the abused ribs, then prod carefully.

“You have one hell of a bruise, but I don’t think they’re broken.”
“That’s what I thought. Thank you for checking.” It should be awkward,

but somehow it isn’t, even as he laces me back up, securing the ends.

“You’ll live. Turn around.”
I do, tugging my nightdress back over my shoulders, and he drops to his

knees on the floor before me.
My eyes widen. Xaden Riorson is kneeling before me, his black hair at