Page 48 of X'nath

But how could orcs’ physiques be such a stark contrast to human men of the same age? The way X’nath moved, with such ease and confidence, was like that of a human male who had onlyjust gained that kind of assurance in his fifties—assuming he had lived a life worth boasting about.

I handed out tools, steadied beams, and kept my hands busy, all while trying to ignore the gnawing feeling of his absence. It wasn’t just that he wasn’t around—it was the way he had been acting lately. Or rather, the way he hadn’t been acting. No more flirtations, no teasing comments, no cocky smirks. Just… silence. And the silence was louder than any words.

As I worked, my eyes instinctively sought him out, and just as I’d hoped, I spotted him across the clearing. He was overseeing a group of orcs setting up traps nearby, and there was something different about him. He wasn’t his usual brash, confident self. There was a quiet tension about him, a sharpness that hadn’t been there before. But it wasn’t the lack of his usual swagger that caught my attention. No, it was the sight of the fresh cuts and bruises on his arms, the bandage wrapped tightly around his thigh. The wounds were dark and angry against his greyish-green skin, and even though he tried to hide them beneath his usual bravado, I could see the pain in his movements.

A tightness clenched in my chest, and I quickly looked away, reminding myself that it wasn’t my concern. He didn’t need my help. And anyway, he’d made it clear that he didn’t want my attention by his actions alone.

"Gracie! Can you hold this steady?" Sharog, one of the female orcs, called out, snapping me out of my thoughts. I nodded, trying to shake off the distraction as I rushed over to help. The next few minutes were spent focusing on the task at hand—laying down the foundation for the home, securing beams, and making sure everything was in place. Torgan, the young male orc who would soon claim this new home, was diligently securing nails into the beams with a heavy hammer.

But as I crouched down to secure one of the planks, my hand slipped, and the sharp edge of the wood scraped across my palm.The sting was immediate and sharp, and I bit my lip to suppress the gasp of pain that threatened to escape.

"Just great," I muttered, shaking my head at my own clumsiness. Serves me right for not concentrating.

"Gracie! Are you okay?" Torgan’s father asked, rushing over with a concerned frown.

"I'm fine," I said, forcing a smile despite the growing throb in my palm. "Just a little scratch."

"Looks like more than just a scratch," Sharog pointed out, her voice laced with concern. "You should?—"

"Really, it’s nothing. I can handle it," I interrupted, doing my best to project confidence even though my hand was beginning to throb.

But just as I turned to grab a piece of cloth to patch it up, I felt a shift in the air. I looked up and met his gaze—X’nath was watching me. The usual cocky glint in his eyes had softened, replaced by something else. Concern? Or maybe just curiosity. But whatever it was, it made my heart skip a beat.

I stood there, as if frozen in a trance, while he made his way toward me.

"I thought you were trying to avoid me," I muttered under my breath, half-joking, half-serious. The absence of his usual teasing banter left a strange emptiness in me that I hadn’t realized until now.

As I wrapped the cloth around my palm, I felt his presence draw closer. His steps were purposeful, confident, but today, there was something different about him—something quieter, more subdued.

"You’re hurt," he said, his voice uncharacteristically gentle, far softer than usual.

"Like I told Sharog, it’s nothing," I replied quickly, trying to brush him off. But my words came out less convincing thanI intended. A wave of heat rushed to my cheeks, and I cursed myself for it.

"More like a wound," he said, stepping even closer. "You shouldn’t push yourself so hard. We need you in good shape."

"Funny, coming from the one who looks like he just survived a dragon’s talon," I shot back, surprising myself with the sharpness of my tone. I didn’t mean to show concern for him, but there it was. I was worried, and yet I couldn’t find a way to express it without feeling like he was always on my mind. And I told myself that wasn’t true. At least, that’s what I tried to convince myself.

X’nath chuckled, but the sound didn’t quite reach his eyes. "At least I can still swing a hammer without losing my balance."

I felt my cheeks flush again, this time with embarrassment rather than irritation. I hated how easily he could get under my skin. I turned my back to him, focusing on the task ahead, trying to ignore the strange flutter in my stomach.

"Well, aren't you just full of yourself," I muttered, trying to steady a beam that was beginning to slip.

X’nath’s shadow loomed over me, and I could feel his gaze lingering. "What’s wrong, Gracie? Afraid I’ll show you how it’s done?"

I straightened up, glaring at him over my shoulder. "I’m not afraid of anything," I shot back, my voice sharper than I intended. "I just don’t need your help."

He smirked, his usual cocky confidence returning. "That’s not what it looked like when you nearly cut your hand off."

"Maybe I just wanted to see if you’d actually care," I snapped, the irritation rising in my chest. As soon as the words left my mouth, I regretted them, cursing myself for letting that slip. My anger only grew, now directed at myself for being so vulnerable. "But I guess you’ve got enough on your plate with your ownwounds," I added, trying to brush it off, but the sting of my own frustration still lingered.

His grin faltered for a moment, and I saw the shift in his expression. "I can take care of myself," he said, his tone losing its usual playfulness. "Unlike some people, who can’t manage a simple task without cutting themselves. How does someone go from fighting monsters with finesse to something like this?"

I felt my temper flare. What was wrong with him? He wasn’t usually like this. Despite my logical mind telling me he must have a good reason for being moody, I wasn’t about to back down. "You know, X’nath, for someone so ‘capable,’ you sure do spend a lot of time pointing out other people’s flaws."

He leaned closer, his eyes narrowing. My breath hitched and I forced myself to not be affected by his proximity, by his masculine scent. "And you’re just as good at acting like everything’s fine when it clearly isn’t."

I took a deep breath, refusing to let him get under my skin again. "You don’t know anything about me, X’nath. So maybe you should just?—"

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