Page 51 of X'nath

“Careful, X’nath,” another chimed in, winking. “She might be planning to keep you all to herself for the rest of the day. Don’t forget you still have a job to do around here.”

I felt a flush rise to my cheeks at the teasing I was able to piece together, but I held my ground, refusing to back down. X’nath’s expression softened as he turned to face them, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

“Enough,” he said, his tone playful but commanding. “We’re done for today. You lot find something else to do.”

The orcs groaned good-naturedly, muttering among themselves about selfish warriors as they wandered off, their laughter trailing behind them. X’nath gestured for me to follow,and I walked toward his home, trying to ignore the heat in my face from the teasing.

I should be beyond this kind of embarrassment with such things, but here I was.

Once we were inside, I took a slow glance around. It was exactly as I’d expected—bare, Spartan, almost too practical for comfort. The walls were made of rough-hewn wood, and the floor was bare except for a couple of furs strewn across it. A few metal contraptions, likely cobbled together with whatever spare parts he could find, dotted the space—a makeshift cogwheeled candle holder here, a mechanical tool there. It felt like a bachelor pad for someone who rarely stayed in one place for long. Nothing to tie him down, nothing to suggest he ever settled. Every piece seemed purposeful, functional, with no room for anything superfluous.

He led me further inside, stopping by a small table covered with maps and scraps of parchment, beside a pair of bloodstained goggles. As we stood there, Yargol skittered around our feet, his claws clicking on the bare floor. He circled us a few times before finding a corner near the wall, where he curled up in a makeshift nest of old cloth and fur, contentedly settling in.

X’nath glanced at him briefly before raising an eyebrow at me. "What’s going on?" he asked, his voice tinged with curiosity.

I swallowed, trying to ignore the weight of his gaze. The intensity of it always made my heart race, and I didn’t want to lose my resolve now.

"I’ve noticed your injuries. They’re not healing. And you’ve been pushing yourself too hard. It’s not like you to—" I faltered slightly, catching myself. "—to not take care of yourself."

He crossed his arms, leaning slightly against the table with the look of amusement. "I’m fine."

“No, you’re not.” I couldn’t keep the frustration from my voice. Why was he treating something that could go so wrong socasually? “It’s been days, X’nath. I see the blood seeping through your bandages. It’s not just going to heal on its own. You need help, whether you want to admit it or not.”

“I said I’m fine,” he repeated, his jaw tightening as his gaze hardened. “I’ve handled worse.”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t keep handling it on your own,” I shot back, stepping closer, very much aware of the heat radiating off his body, the way I only reached the height of his broad chest. “I’m not here to argue, X’nath. I’m here because I care, and I’m not going to let you keep making excuses.”

For a long moment, there was silence between us. The air felt thick, like something unspoken was hanging in the space, a tension that neither of us knew how to break. His eyes were searching mine, as if trying to figure out what I was really after. I wasn’t sure myself, but I knew one thing—I wasn’t going to let him walk away without doing something about those wounds.

“Sit down,” I finally commanded, my heart racing.

X’nath stared at me, his brow furrowed, but after a beat, he relented. He sat down on a small wooden chair by the table, his posture still stiff and unwilling, but not quite defiant. As he sat, he was perfectly positioned to watch the way my chest rose and fell with each shallow breath.

Get a hold of yourself, Gracie. Do what you came to do.

I reached into the bag I had brought with me, pulling out the poultice, feeling the weight of his gaze on me the entire time.

“I just put a fresh bandage on?—”

"Sit still," I commanded, an unexpected sense of power coursing through me as he complied. He could easily have tossed me out of his home, thrown me over his shoulder and carried me off if he wanted to. But instead, he stayed seated, silently contemplating, and an entirely new tension began to build between us.

The thought of him throwing me over his shoulder, taking control and having his way with me, flashed through my mind. I quickly swallowed, trying to push the image aside and regain some composure.

These thoughts were becoming more intense with each passing day. No matter how much I tried to push them away, to quell the ache myself in the middle of the night alone in my home, the ache only grew stronger. My mind told me I was here to help, but the truth was, something far deeper was pulling me toward him, despite the irritation that always simmered when we were together.

I stepped forward, unwrapping the poultice, and when I looked at his leg, I felt my chest tighten. The blood had stained through the bandages again, and the wound itself looked worse than it should have. It didn’t take a healer to know that this wasn’t something that could be ignored any longer.

“Let me do this, X’nath. Please,” I said, softer this time, as I moved to kneel in front of him.

I couldn’t deny that my imagination about his cock tortured me. I shouldn’t be thinking about such things, but this close to his powerful thighs, I pressed my own together as I situated myself in a comfortable position.

There was a long pause, and for a moment, I thought he might refuse me again. But when he looked down at me, his expression shifted—his eyes sharpened and his nostrils flared.

“Be careful what you ask for, little female. I can only restrain myself so much around you.”

I bit back a small laugh, knowing full well what we were doing to each other, how we affected one another. It was in the way he clenched his jaws and crossed his arms as if to stop himself from touching me.

I carefully unwrapped his bandage, letting it drop to the floor. X’nath had torn one of his pant legs to keep it fromrubbing against the wound. My fingers brushed lightly over the soft hairs on his thigh as I examined the injury, my touch tentative as I studied the damage.

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