Page 22 of X’nath (Dark Orcs of Helfallow)

22

Flickers of the Past

GRACIE

T he darkness of my surroundings felt stifling, the silence pressing down on me as I jolted awake once again, heart racing. I glanced around, disoriented, the remnants of my nightmare clinging to my mind like cobwebs. My former husband’s voice echoed in my ears, twisted and cruel, making my stomach churn. The scars he had left—both visible and hidden—seemed to throb in unison with my heartbeat.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed, the rough wood cool against my skin. I had to get out. The suffocating memories threatened to pull me under, and I couldn’t allow that. I pushed myself to my feet, pacing the small space of our communal home, my breath coming in quick bursts.

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?” I hissed into the dark, fists clenching at my sides. I was supposed to be stronger now, especially since he’d removed himself from my life. But the shadows of my past were relentless, creeping back in when I least expected it. “You’re nothing to me now. Just a ghost of what used to be.”

Erin stirred and guilt hit me. I was disturbing her rest with my ghosts. Grabbing an extra layer of clothes, I put it on and continued my pacing outside our walls. With every step I took, the weight of regret settled deeper in my chest. I should have fought harder when he threatened to sell me. I should have told him what he had done to me, that it wasn’t my womb that was the problem but his blindness and fury.

Would it have made a difference? Probably not. But maybe my guilt wouldn't gnaw at me so relentlessly. Here I was, in a place where the universe had given me another shot at life, and yet all I could focus on was how broken I felt. How could any of these strong, virile, capable males want a woman who might not be able to bear children for them? I was beyond my childbearing years, wasn’t I? Forty-two in human years is when most women start thinking about their children’s marriages and futures, not their own.

The shame surged, and I berated myself for even considering a life with them.

“I won’t be weak again,” I muttered fiercely, forcing my legs to carry me outside. The cool night air hit me like a balm, but it did little to soothe the turmoil within. I needed to be busy, to work hard and prove to myself that I was worth something—worth more than what I had endured, what my womb could provide.

As I paced around the camp, I noticed the shadows shifting among the trees, and for a moment, I let myself imagine a different life—one without fear, without the ghost of my past haunting me. But then reality crashed back in. The weight of my scars reminded me that I couldn’t afford to dream.

“Foolish,” I chided myself. “You’re just asking for pain again.”

Footsteps approached. I turned, my heart leaping into my throat as I spotted X’nath coming back from what was probably a patrol, the moonlight catching the contours of his muscular frame. He looked both strong and carefree, his confidence radiating off him. It made my insides twist with a confusing mix of admiration and irritation.

“Gracie?” His voice was low, filled with concern, as he approached me. His presence, solid and commanding, loomed over me, and despite my anger, I could feel the weight of his attention on me like a tangible thing.

I froze. My heart raced, my mind screaming at me to push him away, to protect myself from whatever vulnerable part of me he was trying to uncover. I couldn’t let him see the cracks I’d been desperately trying to hide. Not again.

Part of me wanted to spill everything—the nightmares, the scars, the fears that haunted me, the demons I fought daily. But another part of me wanted to stay distant, to keep him from digging any deeper. To remain the person I thought I could be—strong, controlled, untouchable.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I said too quickly, too sharply, hoping the words would be enough to make him leave me alone.

But X’nath’s brow furrowed, his gaze never wavering. “You don’t look fine,” he said, stepping closer. “Did something happen? Who do I need to kill?”

My pulse quickened at the intensity of his words. I wanted to shove him away, to tell him to mind his business, but the concern in his voice tangled with something else, something I wasn’t ready to admit. The last thing I wanted was for him to get involved—especially after that damned kiss.

A deep sigh escaped me, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “It’s nothing, X’nath. Just… go away.”

He didn’t back off. Instead, he stepped closer still, his eyes narrowing as he searched mine, but I refused to meet his gaze. His proximity made my skin burn, and I hated how it made my heart pound harder.

“ Lak’osh , you don’t have to hide from me.”

There was that word again. I didn’t understand what it meant, but I was also afraid to find out.

“I’m not hiding!” My voice was sharp, and even I could hear the anger in it. The flare of emotion surprised me, but it was the only thing I could hold on to, the only defense I had left. “I just don’t want to talk about it. Can’t you take a hint?”

He paused, a long beat of silence between us, and his expression shifted—disappointment, hurt, maybe even a touch of confusion washed over him. It made my stomach twist with guilt, but I pushed it down, stubbornly refusing to let him in.

“If you need anything, I’m here,” he said quietly, his voice softer now.

But it only frustrated me more. The way he was trying to adapt to my moods. The way he was trying to get under my skin. I wanted to scream at him, to demand that he leave me alone, that I didn’t need anyone. I didn’t need him . But when I opened my mouth, all that came out was a sharp, frustrated retort.

“I don’t need anything from you!” I blurted out, my voice filled with more venom than I intended.

The words hung in the air like a challenge, and I knew, as soon as I said them, that I regretted them. But before I could take them back, X’nath was standing right in front of me, his hands gripping my arms with surprising gentleness.

My breath hitched, my heart fluttering in my chest. His eyes bored into mine, and for a moment, everything else disappeared.

Then, without warning, he pulled me close, his strong arms enveloping me in a tight embrace. I froze in shock, unable to react, too stunned by the suddenness of it all. The world seemed to pause around us. His body was warm against mine, and I could feel the heat of his breath on my neck as he held me, his grip firm but not painful. He wasn’t trying to hurt me, he wasn’t trying to overpower me. It was something different, something protective.

I tensed, my muscles stiff, unsure of how to respond. I was scared, terrified, even, that he would try something more. But instead of pulling back to try and take advantage of me, his grip tightened slightly, as if offering reassurance, as if trying to calm my trembling body.

I swallowed, my throat dry, fighting the rising panic within me. For a moment, I was certain he was going to kiss me, that he was going to do something that would shatter the thin veil of control I had left.

His warmth seeped into me, and for the briefest of moments, I allowed myself to be selfish and lean into it, just slightly.

I hated it. I hated how much comfort I felt in his arms, how much I didn’t want to pull away. I hated how, for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel so alone.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he pulled back, tracing the side of my face with the back of his knuckles, lingering longer than necessary. His eyes softened, but there was something unreadable in them now, something that made my pulse quicken once again.

“I’m not going anywhere, lak’osh ,” he said quietly, his voice a low rumble, like a promise.

I stared at him, speechless, my breath still shallow. He was too much —too kind, too persistent, too everything . And yet, I couldn’t find it in me to push him away. But my fight or flight response kicked in.

Without a word, I turned on my heel and walked away, desperate to put distance between us. I needed to breathe, to think. To forget how much my body had wanted to lean into his embrace.

Stepping back into my home, I felt the weight of his gaze lingering like a physical touch. I shouldn’t have wanted it the way I did. I didn’t deserve it. I closed the door, leaning against it, chest heaving with a chaotic storm of emotions. The shadows inside my mind began to swirl again every time I felt the faintest glimmer of hope, and I wrapped my arms around myself, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill.

How could I even consider the possibility of something more with him? He was young, cocky, and completely oblivious to the complexities of my scars. I had fought too hard to let someone in again, and now, facing my past felt like an endless battle.

“What are you doing?” I whispered to myself, the weight of my own thoughts suffocating. “You’re just setting yourself up for disappointment.”

I took a deep breath, forcing the turmoil back down, pushing against the rising tide of emotion. “Focus,” I told myself firmly. “You have work to do. Prove you can survive, that you are worth something.”

And with that, I settled back onto my bed, trying to silence the echoes of my past, determined to forge a future that belonged only to me. But even as I closed my eyes, the ghost of X’nath’s concern lingered, a reminder that perhaps, just perhaps, I didn’t have to face this battle alone. But I wouldn’t let myself believe that. Not yet.