Chapter 30
Xavier stands in the doorway, his eyes locked on mine, and my heart thrashes in my chest to the point it hurts. He’s here, right in front of me. Breathing, talking, and alive.
I rake my gaze over him, hungry for the sight of him, still not sure if I’m imagining everything. His black slacks are rumpled, his shoes no longer shiny but scuffed in various places. His dress shirt carries stains and grime from the dungeon cell, and his hair is a tangled mess, hanging limply around his temples while other pieces stick straight up.
Then there’s his face. It’s drawn and pale, shadowed by fatigue and illness. Around his eyes and mouth are deep lines, the remnants of the harshness and stress he endured during the second Trial. His beautiful eyes, usually bright and glinting with fierce emotion, are a dull metal gray.
However, the longer he looks at me, the more they shimmer with fervor. Something deep and primal, an instinct that goes beyond possession.
I flick my gaze to the space behind him, confirming the crow standing guard isn’t there. When I go back to looking at Xavier, he quirks a brow, but it doesn’t hold the same amount of challenge as usual. The strength in him, the tenacity that I’ve always admired and revered, remains evident in his posture, despite the way his body trembles from exhaustion.
All of the emotions I’ve experienced from the past twenty-four hours rush me at once. They zip along my extremities, and the knife falls from my hand, instantly forgotten. I’m shaking with the effort it takes to keep my shit together, to stop myself from bursting out into tears.
“I’m glad you’re not dead.”
He laughs weakly. The sound makes my chest ache even more. “Me too.”
Xavier steps into the room and shuts the door behind him. When he turns back to face me, he simply opens his arms. I practically throw myself in his embrace.
His spine hits the door as my body collides with his, the impact forcing a grunt from him that morphs into another laugh. I wrap my arms around his torso and bury my face in his chest, inhaling the scent of him. He holds me close, his grip tight enough for me to feel the way his hands are shaking.
“Did he…” Xavier asks, his voice hoarse. He blows out a harsh breath, and his heart beats faster under my ear. “Fuck, I can’t even get the words out. Did my father?—”
I shake my head emphatically. “No.”
“Don’t fucking lie to me. Not about this.”
Pulling back slightly, I look up at him, letting him see the truth in my eyes. “All he did was intimidate me. That’s all, I swear.”
Xavier roams his gaze over my face before he nods. He reaches up to stroke my hair, his fingers gliding through the strands while he stares down at me. “I’m sorry for that.”
Xavier Donovan apologized to me. Another first. I don’t think my heart can take any more surprises.
“Don’t.” I whisper because of the emotion gathering in my throat. “I’m fine, but you’re not.”
“When are you going to realize that I don’t give a fuck about myself? It’s you I’m always worried about.” He strokes the back of my head, softening the harshness of his words.
“I’m not the one who almost died. Don’t make this all about me.”
He tilts my chin up and stares down at me, his expression intense. “Everything is about you because you are everything to me.”
“Xavier...”
“You can tell me not to say it, but that doesn’t make it any less true.”
I don’t know how to respond. Not when my emotions are too strong to articulate. So I don’t try. Instead, I wrap my arms around his neck, stretch up on my tiptoes, and brush my lips against his.
Xavier freezes, his entire body stiff. “Don’t do that again.”
I rear back from the sting of rejection. “Don’t kiss you?”
“Don’t tempt me when I’m unable to finish what you start.” He closes his eyes and lets his head fall back against the door. “I don’t have the strength to fuck you like I want. Like I need. Nor do I have the discipline to keep from hurting you while I do it.”
“But—”
“No.” He shakes his head, his mouth a firm line when he looks at me. “You deserve better.”
We fall silent, the air between us heavy. There’s so much I want to say, questions I need to ask, but not when Xavier looks like he’s about to pass out. Even then, I still have to know one thing.
“Did Ben…”
“No, little raptor. McKenzie is recovering in the infirmary.”
The relief that hits me is like a physical blow, and I sway in Xavier’s arms. He steadies me with a firm grip.
“Are you alright?”
“Yes. But what about you?” I study his face, finding the signs of lingering pain and sickness. “Do you need to see a doctor?
“No, I just needed to see you,” he says. “I had to know that you were safe.”
His words echo the relentless fears that pulsed through me as I watched him, helpless, from the control room. The gravity of what he endured settles heavily on my mind. There’s still one more Trial for him to pass, one more chance for him to die.
“I have so many questions,” I say.
He nods, a faint smile touching his lips. “I know, but like sex, they’ll have to wait.”
“Okay.”
Xavier pushes away from the door and takes a step that falters. I rush to support him, but he waves me off and sinks to the floor with a weary exhale.
“Don’t worry,” he murmurs at seeing the alarm on my face. “I just need a minute. I used up all the energy I had getting back to you.”
I drop down to kneel beside him. “You’re scaring me. Are you sure you don’t need to see the doctor?”
He leans back against the wall, closing his eyes as if struggling to stay coherent. “The antidote worked, or I’d be dead. But this is the result of having the poison in my body for over an hour. Just let me rest for a second and then we’ll get in the bed.”
His reassurance does little to ease the knot of worry tightening in my stomach, but I go along with it. I sit down beside him, my shoulder brushing lightly against his.
“Come here.” He reaches over to grab my shoulders and tugs me onto his lap. “That’s better.”
In this quiet, tender moment, I focus on the rise and fall of his chest, taking comfort in the simple, steady rhythm of his breathing. The sight of him so drained, so utterly spent, is jarring. I watch him despite being desperate to sleep.
After a few minutes, his breathing deepens, and the muscles in his body relax. Even while asleep, he still maintains his hold on me. I rest my head on his shoulder, soaking in the warmth of him, and the comfort of his presence. His grip tightens slightly in his sleep, as though he’s determined to keep me safe.
Luckily for him, I’m willing to do the same.
Sunlight filtersin through the thin curtains, gently pulling me from sleep. My eyes flutter open, and for a moment, I’m disoriented, the softness of the bed and the quiet of the room feeling foreign after the tense vigil of last night. I sit up, my heart pounding as I scan the room. The other side of the bed is empty, the sheets cool under my touch.
Did I only dream of Xavier coming back to me?
“Xavier?” My voice is scratchy, sleep still clinging to it. When I don’t hear a response, a spike of panic shoots through me. I throw the covers off and swing my legs to the floor. The memories of last night—the Trial, the fear, his exhausted face—are suddenly sharp, vivid.
I stand, my movements quick and anxious, as I scan the small room. My gaze homes in on his clothes from last night having been discarded on the floor. At least I know I’m not delusional.
The bathroom door is ajar, a sliver of steam escaping into the room. Then, the sound of the shower turning off catches my attention, and a minute later, Xavier steps out of the bathroom, a towel tied loosely around his waist. Water droplets trail down his chest and arms, glistening in the light. His hair is damp, tousled from the shower, and he looks... so different from the exhausted man who had collapsed last night. He’s revitalized and fresh.
And sexy as fuck.
I don’t know what those V-lines are called, but I do know one thing: they are like a fucking neon-lit marquee, pointing me in the right direction for a good time.
He walks over to the dresser and opens a drawer, rummaging through it for some clothes. For a brief, hormonal moment, I’m caught off guard by the sight of him, the lines of his muscles, the way the towel hangs just so, concealing his cock. If I ignore the outline of it.
I mentally chide myself—this is hardly the time for such distractions. But oh boy, is it a dick-straction. Maybe Raven is onto something…
I fight off a blush and clear my throat. “So, about the Trial.”
Xavier pauses, a shirt in hand, and turns to face me. “Hello to you too, little raptor.”
“Sorry,” I mumble. “How are you feeling? You look good.”
So fucking good.
“I’m better, but my muscles are sore, and my head is fucked.” He pinches the bridge of his nose and briefly closes his eyes. “That should wear off in a couple days, but I’ve been ordered to stop by the infirmary so the doctor can check for any damage to my liver or kidneys.”
I walk over to the other dresser where my clothes are stored. “I’m coming with you.”
After I get dressed, we step into the hallway. Xavier’s presence is a steady force, but even his energy is subdued. It could just be his body recovering or he’s keeping his thoughts from me.
“Why were you talking shit to Ben during the Trial?” I ask.
Xavier glances around, assessing our surroundings with caution written all over his features. Once his scan is complete, he looks at me, his expression more serious than I’ve ever seen it.
“We can’t speak about the Trial or anything that transpired during it. Not only is it forbidden, but anyone could hear.” He waves a hand. “The Order is always listening.”
I fold my arms. “Fine. Can you tell me if anyone… didn’t make it?” When Xavier shoots me a questioning look, I shrug. “I already know Eric made it. Fucking lame. But I don’t know about Declan.”
“Why are you asking about him?” The underlying jealousy in Xavier’s voice has my insides heating up. “Is there something you want to tell me, little raptor? Did I make a mistake in leaving you with him during my summons?”
“No, it’s nothing like that. I’m thinking of June.”
Xavier nods, his expression less hostile. “Declan is fine, but there was one recruit from the Felton family that didn’t make it.”
I sigh. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the type of lifestyle you’re in.”
“You’re not supposed to. Neither wives or brides are privy to the things we do in secret. For some fucked-up reason, my father has decided to involve you.”
“I know. He was?—”
Xavier makes a slicing motion with his hand, immediately silencing me. “Don’t talk about him or anyone else. Not unless we’re in the privacy of my room. Okay? I’m not willing to take chances with you.”
“I understand.” I glance up at him. “But at some point, I want you to explain why you were being such a dick to my brother.”
“McKenzie doesn’t need you to defend him.”
“And if I want to?”
Xavier stops in the middle of the hallway to look at me. He reaches out to traces the curve of my jaw and drags his fingertips down the slope of my neck, stopping just above my heart.
“Someday, I hope you will defend me as passionately as you do him.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him that I was about to storm the castle—literally—for him, but I hold back. I swallow the urge to speak, the emotion behind my unspoken words too fragile, too revealing of the depth of my feelings for him. Just like Xavier said to me, I’m not willing to take chances with him.
Love is a risk.
Once it’s given, it can’t be taken back.