Page 46 of X'nath

He laughed, his goofy demeanor unwavering. “We all have our struggles, and admitting them is a sign of strength. Besides,”he added with a conspiratorial wink, “what’s more powerful than a woman warrior who fights her own demons?”

I blinked at him, stunned by his earnestness. I was a mess of conflicting emotions—gratefulness for his kindness, annoyance at his lack of seriousness, and anger at the situation. “This is all so… ridiculous. I’m not a damsel, Garbock. I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can. But we all need a little help sometimes. Life is too heavy to bear alone,” he said, his tone sincere now. “You’re surrounded by a community that wants to lift you up, not bring you down.”

As he turned to leave, I felt a rush of mixed feelings—as well as the heaviness of betrayal, as if I was betraying X’nath.

“Wait!” I called after him through the doorway, my voice stopping him in his tracks. “You… you’ve been watching over me?”

Garbock turned, his expression softening. “Not just you, my dear. All the women. We’re all in this together, whether we like it or not. You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.”

As he walked away, I stood there in the doorway, the vial of tea clenched tightly in my hand, a storm of emotions raging within me. I felt torn between the warmth of the unexpected support and the cold sting of my own pride.

But something still felt off. This whole interaction with both men... it wasn’t adding up. My mind raced as I thought about X’nath and Yargol—how long had it been since I’d seen either of them? Days? The gifts, the odd disappearance—none of it sat right with me.

I couldn’t just sit here, feeling unsettled. I was done waiting for answers. If no one was going to be straight with me, then I’d find X’nath myself and demand to know where he’d been. I wasn’t going to let this weird silence continue. I turned on myheel, ready to find him and get to the bottom of it once and for all.

28

Scars of Valor

X’NATH

The sun dipped low in the sky, and brought with it a cool breeze from the direction of the mountains. I sat in my home on my bed, applying a fresh bandage to the cut on my thigh. The injury was worse than I imagined, initially starting a small wound and now growing into something more.

Memories of the night I brought back the Nightshade lingered in my mind. I had been excited—genuinely excited—to have something useful to offer her, something tangible I could do to care for her, even if she didn’t yet realize she needed me.

Gracie was always fiercely independent, especially when it came to accepting help or gifts. She had a tendency to shy away from anything that might feel like a debt, so I knew I had to be careful. Instead of delivering the tea myself, I had Garbok bring it to her. It was a risk, I knew, but it felt like the right gamble given the delicate balance of our situation. If she refused it from me directly, it would only push her further away. But with Garbok as the messenger, I could still give her something of value without triggering her pride.

I threatened to string his balls from the trees if he even thought of trying to take her from me, and it had to be enough for the time being.

It wasn’t the ideal solution, but in our world, sometimes you had to play the hand you were dealt. And right now, I was determined to make sure that Gracie knew, in some way, that I was here. Even if she couldn’t see it yet.

With my hands clasped behind my head, I leaned back and imagined her face and long, dark hair. As the adrenaline from the battles in the mines began to fade, my thoughts turned fully to little human female—specific thoughts I had been desperately trying to push away and keep under control.

It was no secret that others from her group were having sexual relations with their chosen mates, some more frequently than others. It was widely rumored that orcs and humans were compatible, a notion I had never given much thought to—until the moment Gracie appeared before me, emerging from the sea like a water goddess, her wet form seared into my mind, haunting my every dream.

The clouds obscured the moonlight filtering through my window as my hand traveled down, between my legs to my jutting cock, weeping for attention. This torture has plagued me for the past few weeks—every time I thought about the way she moved as she laid out the upper planks of her home, the way she was covered in the blood of her enemies, plastering her coverings to her shapely body.

Gripping my hard flesh in my fist, I ran my palm up and down, feeling the ridges of my warrior marks and piercings toward the crown. The scars on the body of a warrior was a testament to his battles, but the scars on his cock was a testament to the rewards of his victories by willing female bodies.

Since the last of the orc women had mated, I hadn’t had a chance to release the pent-up energy from all the battles I’d won. I growled as my fist began to move faster and twist around my swollen crown.

Images of her honed muscles washing her hair in the lake, her slender back as the water tracks down the slopes of her light skin.

My body temperature rose beyond comfort despite the lack of clothing. Imagining her hairless body against mine, sliding against my tense muscles only made the torture worse. How hot would she be against me? How slick would she be as I drove my cock between her legs? The scent of her skin haunted my waking hours, cursing my cock to stand at attention at all times of the day.

I squeezed my heavy sack as I continued to slide and twist my right hand against my hard flesh, the veins popping out prominently with every pass.

“Gracie…” I grunted and trailed off as pleasure began to climb.

Closing my eyes and leaning my head back, I imagined her supple but strong body riding me, her dainty little fingers digging into my chest as I drove my cock into her hungry womb.

The thought of her screaming out my name in ecstasy threw me over the edge and I growled as my hot release shot out in spurts onto my stomach, my hand never stopping its torture, milking my pleasure until the very last drop.

With a stuttering sigh, I rubbed it into my skin lazily as I slowly caught my breath. I should be scent marking her as a claim. She should be here with me but she wasn’t. As the sound of the night crept through the window, I reluctantly got up and grabbed a wash rag to clean myself before returning to sit on my bed and recheck the wound on my thigh with a wince.

“Stop wincing like a youngling, X’nath,” came a masculine voice from outside. IT was the criss crossed scars I saw first. Gorruk, one of the older warriors that accompanied our mission in retrieving the human women. “You’d think you were nursing a love bite instead of a battle scar.”

---