Page 30 of X’nath (Dark Orcs of Helfallow)

30

Healing Hands

GRACIE

D ays passed, and X’nath’s injuries showed no signs of healing. His stubbornness was becoming impossible to ignore. He refused to admit that he needed help. Every time I saw him—whether setting traps or patrolling—the bandages on his thigh were still stained with fresh blood. It gnawed at me, a constant, growing worry that I couldn’t shake off, no matter how hard I tried.

One afternoon, I found myself inside the healer’s house. The scent of herbs and dried roots filled the air, comforting and familiar. Borba, an older orc female with a calm demeanor and a knowing gaze, was grinding some dried leaves into a powder.

“Gracie, what brings you here?” she asked, glancing up from her work.

“I… uh…” My words stumbled. “I’ve noticed X’nath hasn’t been taking care of himself. His injuries… they don’t seem to be healing.”

Borba paused, her expression shifting from curiosity to concern. “Ah, X’nath. He’s a stubborn one. Won’t come to me for treatment. Says he can handle it on his own.”

“Is there anything I can do?” My voice held a touch of desperation. “I hate seeing him like this.”

Borba sighed, her hands pausing in their work. “He needs a poultice. It’ll ease the pain and help with the healing, but convincing him to take it… well, that’s the challenge. He’s as proud as you, dear.”

I blinked, surprised. “Proud? I’m not?—”

She raised an eyebrow and gave me a knowing smile. “You’re as stubborn as he is. You carry it in the way you speak and act. But if you truly want to help him, you’ll need to see the herbalist.”

“The herbalist?” I echoed, a bit confused. “What does he have to do with it?”

Borba gestured toward the edge of the village. “The herbalist, Old Barak. He’s the one who has what you need.”

I didn’t want to get into the details of my previous encounters with Barak, especially the awkward way he’d started claiming to be courting me. That was a conversation I wasn’t ready to have.

I thanked Borba and made my way to Old Barak’s shop.

When I arrived, I was greeted by the sight of plants in every direction, all of them fighting for attention in the cluttered yard. Old Barak himself was there, moving around the plants with surprising grace.

“Gracie!” he exclaimed, his hands coming together in a clap. “Back again, I see. What brings you to my humble abode?”

I kept my expression neutral, trying not to let him get under my skin. I wasn’t here for games. “I need a poultice for X’nath,” I said simply. “He won’t accept help from anyone.”

Barak’s eyes twinkled with something that looked like amusement. “Ah, X’nath. A fine young warrior, but a fool. Borba sent you, didn’t she?”

I hesitated, eyeing him. How did he know that? Was there something going on behind the scenes that I wasn’t aware of?

“Something to help his wounds heal faster,” I replied, my gaze flicking to the shelves around me filled with odd concoctions. “The healer said you’d have it.”

“Of course,” he said with a chuckle. “I’ve got exactly what you need.” He moved with surprising speed, collecting a few jars from his cluttered workspace. “But there’s a choice to be made first.”

“A choice?” I asked, furrowing my brow. “What kind of choice?”

Barak grinned. “To brew this poultice, you’ll need to pick one of two ingredients. There’s a flower known for its soothing properties, or a root that speeds up healing but has a pungent odor.”

“Pungent?” I raised an eyebrow. “Which would you recommend?”

“The flower for comfort, the root for effectiveness. But the root... well, it might take a strong stomach.”

I wrinkled my nose. “I’ll go with the flower.”

“Wise choice,” he said, still chuckling as he gathered the herbs. “No one wants to be dealing with a stinky poultice.”

As he worked, I couldn’t shake the feeling that time was running out. X’nath’s injuries weren’t healing, and he was too proud to accept help. This was my chance to step outside my pride, to offer him something without him needing to admit his weakness. If I could manage that, perhaps we’d both save face.

With the poultice prepared, I thanked Barak and hurried back to the village, clutching the bundle tightly. I had no idea how this was going to go. I just knew I had to try.

As I approached X’nath’s home, I spotted him standing in the doorway, talking with some of his comrades. His posture was relaxed, but the sight of his injuries made my stomach twist. I took a deep breath and steeled myself.

This was it. Time to put my pride aside and offer him something, even if he would never acknowledge it. And perhaps, in doing so, we could finally stop dancing around each other’s stubbornness.

I took a deep breath before walking up to X’nath, still surrounded by his comrades. The laughter and light banter carried through the air, and for a moment, I hesitated. It wasn’t easy for me to step into their circle—especially when X’nath was the center of attention. But something inside me pushed me forward.

“X’nath,” I said, my voice more composed than I felt. “Can we speak in private for a moment?”

Though I was picking up Orcish quickly, there were still a few words I stumbled over, like “private.” The mistake made my cheeks flush with embarrassment, and irritation simmered beneath the surface.

The others paused their joking, turning to glance between us with raised eyebrows and smirks, speaking in rapid Orcish. I could only catch a few phrases here and there.

“Ah, looks like your female’s got something serious to say,” one of them teased, his voice laced with amusement.

“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 so casually? “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 from rubbing 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.

When I looked up at him, his pupils had dilated, and he remained silent, his gaze locked onto me. It was as if he was daring me to go further, watching my every move with an intensity that made my pulse quicken.

Biting my lip, I focused on the poultice, dipping my fingers and pressing it gently to his wound. My other hand cradled beneath his strong thigh, and despite my resolve, a surge of heat rushed through me. I felt it—the way his muscles flexed in the palm of my hand, the tension between us, the way our proximity seemed to heighten everything.

X’nath winced slightly as I applied more poultice, but it didn’t stop him from watching me. His gaze never wavered, and it was all I could do to keep my hands steady as I worked. The intimate silence between us felt heavier with each passing second, the closeness almost unbearable as the air crackled with electricity.

When I finished rebandaging him, I took a small step back, swallowing hard as I tried to ignore the fluttering in my chest. The moment lingered, stretched between us, and for a moment, I thought he might say something, do something—but instead, he just sat there, the intensity of his stare still weighing on me.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, his voice low.

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. As I turned to leave, his strong arms grabbed me. I fell against his chest, my eyes wide as I realized my hands were locked between us.