Recent content by Cullen

Cullen caught her gaze as easily as if no time had passed, her eyes, glassy with the tears she was too proud to shed openly, hit him like a fist to the gut. A muscle ticked in his jaw, but he said nothing, only lifted his eyes from her slightly as the wind and rain pelted his back. He carried...

“The fuck should I know where she is?” Cullen snapped, voice strained as he ducked low beneath a jagged lip of rock. Rain lashed sideways, soaking through every layer of him, stinging his face like claws. “You can call her when we get onto the plateau. Just hold on to me.” The storm was...

The sound she made when he touched her broke something in him. A sharp, brittle crack down the middle of his chest. Cullen froze, seeing her pain in the way she curled in on herself, in the way her lashes trembled against rain-slicked cheeks. She didn’t cry out often. Not even when she should...

The sky was chaos. Rain hammered Cullen’s face, soaked through his leathers, ran in rivulets down his face, cold and stinging. But he didn't care, he could feel nothing else other than the fear spiking through him as he lost sight of Nadya. Lightning had lanced the sky, and in that brief...

Meala had felt it before Cullen had. A subtle shift in the pressure of the wind, the vibration in the air that had nothing to do with weather. Her wingbeats slowed, her muscles coiling beneath him like a spring. Cullen leaned forward, instinct already pulling his body taut. Then the lightning...

Meala’s wings sliced the air in furious rhythm, her body naturally adjusting to the swirling cadence of Iralux beside her. She didn’t like it, her snarls were low and constant, but she tolerated it, sensing her rider’s tightly wound restraint. Cullen barely turned his head as Leovold’s voice...

Cullen and Meala sliced through the sky like an arrow loosed from a taut bow, the cold wind whipping past them in biting gusts. Meala, always silent, always steady, banked sharply as they skirted the rim of the canyon, her wings stretched wide. Her scales were already slick from the early...

Cullen didn’t turn when she spoke. He just stared out at the storm. 'This shit is going to pelt us with rain.' "No shit." he commented dryly to himself. He knew the look of a storm about to break. Knew the weight of the air, the way it pressed down like the sky itself was bracing to strike...

Cullen let out a sharp breath through his nose, shaking his head as he looked over one of the maps spread across the table. Hannon’s grin and his pointed little comment about Nadya’s family hadn’t gone unnoticed. "Looks like you're the one wanting a catch-up," he muttered under his breath...

Cullen grit his teeth, the frustration simmering beneath his skin. Of all the orders the Commander could’ve given, he had to throw her in his path. Patrol duty. With Nadya. It was some kind of joke, surely. Cullen's fingers curled into his palms, but he kept his mouth shut and let her argue...

Cullen’s boots hit the packed dirt of the camp with measured purpose, his entire focus on getting out. He had wasted too much time already—waiting for orders, dodging the knowing glances of his fellow officers who had no doubt heard about Nadya’s return. He couldn’t be here when she arrived...

Cullen moved through the camp with the steady, unhurried gait of a man who wanted to be left alone. But then he heard it. A murmur among the infantry—casual chatter about new arrivals, a storm dragon, excitement from one of the younger soldiers who had never seen one before. Cullen stopped...

Cullen let out a slow breath, tilting his head back against the tree trunk, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion. The rain pattered against the leaves above, a steady rhythm that filled the silence between them. He should have been angry at Fedyr’s words—at the presumption that he needed watching...

Cullen had barely twisted in his saddle to look back at Leovold when he caught the glint of a blade slicing through the air. A Jarlax rider was bearing down on him, spear raised, eyes locked onto him like a predator closing in. Then, a knife struck. It buried itself deep in the rider’s chest...

Cullen had fought in the air before, but never like this. The sky was a writhing, blood-soaked storm, torn apart by the screams of dragons and the shrieks of dying men. The stench of burning flesh, charred scale, and sulfur choked the air. Wyverns clawed and snapped like rabid dogs, their...