Page 22 of Beyond Reason

But he wasn’t… himself.

Then again, I’d gotten older.

I shrugged.

“What if we avoid testing that theory? Instead, we can figure out where to start with getting you back in shape.” If we were both training again, would things be different? We’d worked out together before, making sure we were physically fit and capable of handling anything life threw our way. When we had, I’d always known Xavier was the one who would stand in front of me if something happened, that he would be able to take out a group of people if they suddenly swarmed the house, because I was living with a hitman for hire.

Would I be the one taking care of him now?

The thought felt wrong in my head, but I shook it off. I focused on the food in front of me instead… that was easier. It helped that the years and something as silly as dying hadn’t ruined his cooking abilities.

“I can think of a few things that would get my blood pumping, Sunshine.”

I nearly choked on my coffee. That fucking tone and the way he was looking at me from beneath his lashes said everything that he hadn’t.

I knew I was in trouble.

Chapter 7

Xavier

Training was the perfect excuse to make Axel touch me.

Maybe I wasn’t playing fair, but I’d never been the kind of person to follow the rules when it came to what I wanted, had I? At least, from what I remembered of my past, I certainly hadn’t seemed to be. It came back to me in dreams, in chunks and flashes. I remembered growing up in a loving home with parents who gave me everything I could ask for—and I remembered how much it didn’t matter. How apathetic I was, and how the logical conclusion was to take a job that let me use that apathy and my physical abilities to my advantage.

Then I remembered flashes of feeling warmth, of heat and desire. Flashes of feeling safe and at home.

And all of those flashes included Axel’s bright blue eyes, and the feel of his body pressed against mine.

I could tell he was trying to keep me at a distance—even after I’d shown him the contents of the flash drive and he realized I was telling the truth, that I wasn’t making all of this up… actually, maybe even more after that. Had it been easier for him to touch me when he wasn’t sure if I was the person I said I was?

I couldn’t wrap my head around what he’d gone through when he found me dead—honestly, I couldn’t wrap my head around any of it. I couldn’t remember dying. I had no idea how I’d fucked up so much that I’d let it happen. I just knew I couldn’t let it happen again.

Which meant these training sessions were important, even if I did have full intentions of abusing every second that Axel let me close to him.It wasn't like I kept it a secret—I'd dragged him to a clinic so I could make sure the body I was in was healthy, and he'd turned bright red when I'd casually asked him if he needed to be tested, too. His murmured no made something in my chest sing.

It would have been easier to flirt if the physical strain wasn’t so… exhausting. I might have been healthy, but I wasn't in shape. I was reminded once again that the body I was in didn’t move the same way I had before. Even if I hadn’t been injured, I had a feeling Marshall didn’t make it a priority to hit the gym.

He seemed more intent on doing shit like figuring out how to bring people back from the dead.

I guess I couldn’t hold it against him, since it had gotten me here in the first place. He might have held it against himself if he knew where it was going to get him, but that wasn’t my problem.

“Xavier are you even trying to concentrate?” Axel snapped. There was something almost cute about his angry tone, and maybe it had to do with his age? Was he always this… cranky?

It wasn’t a stretch for me to remember that yes, he’d always been exactly this grumpy.

The reason the nickname Sunshine had stuck around was suddenly very clear, and a small giggle ripped from my chest of its own volition.

“Xavier,” he deadpanned.

“No, I’m paying attention. I swear.” And I was, even if I was still laughing about it, and even if I didn’t quite dance out of the way fast enough when he swung at me. He pulled the punch at the last second, and I glanced up at him.

There was sweat on his face, and his eyes were just a little too wide. His dark hair was sticking up at odd angles, and it took watching him for half a second to realize why—his fingers tore through it in frustration, and he made a point to glare at me.

“I don’t believe you.”

I probably wouldn’t believe me either, but that was beside the point. I really was trying. But I was also watching him.

And maybe there was a part of me that was frustrated; I knew I was better than this. I knew I shouldn’t already be winded and tired.

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