Page 29 of X’nath (Dark Orcs of Helfallow)

29

Under my Skin

GRACIE

I t had been a strange few days since I last saw X’nath. I had tried to push thoughts of him aside, burying them beneath the tasks of the day, but as the afternoon light began to fade, my mind wandered back to him once again.

The other women and I had gathered to help with the building of a new house, preparing for one of the young orcs about to leave their parents' homes as he came of age. It was a welcome distraction, the laughter and chatter providing a brief respite from the heavy weight of my thoughts. But even as we worked, I felt that familiar pang of unease whenever X’nath crossed my mind.

I wondered what X’nath had been like when he left his first home to become a warrior. According to the tribe, males typically left around the age of sixteen. X’nath didn’t look any older than Erin, who was nearing thirty, which meant he was likely in his twenties, assuming orcs aged similarly to humans.

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 only just 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 than I 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 own wounds," 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?—"

"Maybe I should just what?" He cut me off, his voice rising in irritation and something else… challenge. "Tell you the truth? Stop pretending I’m not worried about you?"

For a moment, we both stood there, breathing heavily, the tension between us thickening. I opened my mouth to snap back at him, but the words caught in my throat. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to say anymore, or if I even knew what I was angry about.

X’nath let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his short, dark hair. "You make this harder than it needs to be, Gracie. Your stubbornness could rival that of an angry Ginix Jackal."

I blinked a few times. I had no idea what a Ginix Jackal was but it didn’t sound like a compliment.

"Me?" I barked, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. "You’re the one who can’t seem to stop acting like the world revolves around you."

"That’s because it does," he said with a grin that barely masked the edge in his tone. I hated the way it made me feel, like I wanted to slap it right off his face and then kiss him. "At least it should."

Despite everything, despite the frustration and the banter, I felt a laugh bubble up from somewhere deep inside me. What was happening right now? What was this weird new tension between us?

"You really think that, don’t you?" I asked, shaking my head.

X’nath raised an eyebrow, his gaze drifting over the curve of my neck, sending a chill down my spine. He tilted his head slightly, his voice low and teasing. "What? You don’t think it should?"

I stared at him for a moment, trying to figure out whether I was angry or amused. "You’re unbelievable," I muttered under my breath, though a small smile tugged at the corner of my lips.

"Yeah, but you like it," he shot back, a teasing glint in his eyes.

I rolled my eyes, finally stepping away from him to rejoin the others in continuing the building process. "I don’t even know why I bother," I said, though the smile didn’t quite leave my face.

"Because you secretly enjoy the challenge," he replied with a grin, clearly pleased with himself.

"Don’t flatter yourself," I replied, still trying to shake off the strange mix of annoyance and something else that had settled in my chest. Despite myself, as I listened to his footsteps fade away, I secretly admitted that I didn’t want him to leave.

I threw myself back into work. I couldn’t afford to let him distract me, not when there were so many other things to focus on.

Even as I helped hammer nails into the beams, I found myself stealing glances at X’nath from the corner of my eye. The way he moved, effortlessly commanding the attention of those around him, was impossible to ignore. There was a quiet power in his presence, a confidence that seemed to radiate from him without effort. His body, one that could only be honed by countless battles, moved with the fluid grace of a predator—each motion purposeful, as if he was always aware of his surroundings, always in control. It was captivating, and I found myself momentarily lost in the rhythm of his movements.

I tried to shove the thoughts away, but it was hard. It felt like there was a tug at my chest, an invisible force pulling me toward him. I didn’t want to feel this way. He was too young, too cocky, and I had too many other things to focus on to get caught up in something that might end in regret.

But the more I tried to ignore him, the more I realized that it wasn’t working. Every time I looked at him, I felt a little bit more drawn in, a little bit more uncertain of my own resolve. I could feel the truth of my emotions bubbling beneath the surface.

"Let’s get this home finished, everyone!" Torgan’s father called out, trying to rally the others, pulling from my thoughts.

“Yes, let’s get things finished,” I mumbled to myself.

I’d been taking the herbal tea for the past few days, the one Garbock had given me. I wasn’t sure if was working—it wasn’t like I was suddenly full of energy—but there was one noticeable change: I didn’t wake up feeling as tired anymore. The heaviness I’d carried with me each morning was gone, and though I still felt the exhaustion of the day weighing on me, it was more manageable. I wasn’t sure if it was the tea or simply the passage of time, but for now, I would take it.

Still, there was something else about this whole situation that bothered me. X’nath’s quiet absence, my growing unease, and now the strange ache that stirred in my chest every time I caught his eye. I couldn’t ignore it, but I wasn’t ready to face it either.