7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Xavier

T raining was the perfect excuse to make Axel touch me.

Maybe I wasn't playing fair, but I'd never been the kind of person to follow the rules when it came to what I wanted, had I? At least, from what I remembered of my past, I certainly hadn't seemed to be. It came back to me in dreams, in chunks and flashes. I remembered growing up in a loving home with parents who gave me everything I could ask for—and I remembered how much it didn't matter. How apathetic I was, and how the logical conclusion was to take a job that let me use that apathy and my physical abilities to my advantage.

Then I remembered flashes of feeling warmth, of heat and desire. Flashes of feeling safe and at home.

And all of those flashes included Axel's bright blue eyes, and the feel of his body pressed against mine.

I could tell he was trying to keep me at a distance—even after I'd shown him the contents of the flash drive and he realized I was telling the truth, that I wasn't making all of this up… actually, maybe even more after that. Had it been easier for him to touch me when he wasn't sure if I was the person I said I was?

I couldn't wrap my head around what he'd gone through when he found me dead—honestly, I couldn't wrap my head around any of it. I couldn't remember dying. I had no idea how I'd fucked up so much that I'd let it happen. I just knew I couldn't let it happen again.

Which meant these training sessions were important, even if I did have full intentions of abusing every second that Axel let me close to him.It wasn't like I kept it a secret—I'd dragged him to a clinic so I could make sure the body I was in was healthy, and he'd turned bright red when I'd casually asked him if he needed to be tested, too. His murmured no made something in my chest sing.

It would have been easier to flirt if the physical strain wasn't so… exhausting. I might have been healthy , but I wasn't in shape. I was reminded once again that the body I was in didn't move the same way I had before. Even if I hadn't been injured, I had a feeling Marshall didn't make it a priority to hit the gym.

He seemed more intent on doing shit like figuring out how to bring people back from the dead.

I guess I couldn't hold it against him, since it had gotten me here in the first place. He might have held it against himself if he knew where it was going to get him, but that wasn't my problem.

"Xavier are you even trying to concentrate?" Axel snapped. There was something almost cute about his angry tone, and maybe it had to do with his age? Was he always this… cranky?

It wasn't a stretch for me to remember that yes, he'd always been exactly this grumpy.

The reason the nickname Sunshine had stuck around was suddenly very clear, and a small giggle ripped from my chest of its own volition.

"Xavier," he deadpanned.

"No, I'm paying attention. I swear." And I was, even if I was still laughing about it, and even if I didn't quite dance out of the way fast enough when he swung at me. He pulled the punch at the last second, and I glanced up at him.

There was sweat on his face, and his eyes were just a little too wide. His dark hair was sticking up at odd angles, and it took watching him for half a second to realize why—his fingers tore through it in frustration, and he made a point to glare at me.

"I don't believe you."

I probably wouldn't believe me either, but that was beside the point. I really was trying. But I was also watching him.

And maybe there was a part of me that was frustrated; I knew I was better than this. I knew I shouldn't already be winded and tired.

I knew that this body was never going to live up to the potential that I'd had before, because I had to look up at Axel instead of looking down.

I took a deep breath as his arms crossed over his chest.

"You aren't trying. You're… what? You're playing at it, Xavier." His lips pressed together like he was forcing the words to stay contained, but just as quickly as he'd done it, they flew out anyway. His irritation with me was obviously stronger than his ability to stay quiet. "You're going to get yourself killed." And then… "Again."

Well, that was a little on the nose.

"You know, out of everything you could rub in, I don't know if that's the play, Sunshine ."

He drew back like I'd slapped him, and I wasn't sure if it was the nickname, or me pointing out that he wasn't exactly being kind about the whole Xavier already died once situation.

I was trying not to think about it, because thinking about it would lead me to trying to figure out what happened, and any time I attempted to force those memories, my head hurt.

I still hadn't told Axel about that little tidbit, but he seemed more than happy to let me figure things out on my own.

After another second, he cleared his throat and nodded. "Are you ready to try again?"

Honestly, I was ready to collapse, ready to let the weaker body I was in have a break. But I knew doing that wasn't going to do a damn bit of good for me. I had to push myself.

I had to push whoever Marshall had been, and whatever limits he'd set for himself. I was going to break them.

I was going to break this body and make it mine again.

It had to be mine again.

That thought had me springing into action before Axel had even called start, but he seemed ready for me—it was only a little infuriating that his reflexes were so much better than mine, but I could remember that, too. His reflexes had always been amazing.

Maybe time had eroded them a little, but death had all but shattered mine.

Which meant I needed a different tactic.

When I danced to the side and picked up one of the wooden training knives Axel had—and I had questioned him on why he had toys to play with when it was more useful to train with the real thing—his eyes flicked to the weapon for a moment before he followed my lead. This was where I'd been better, right? Weaponry. And this was where I could learn to be better again. You didn't have to be huge to slide a knife into something vital. You didn't have to be physically stronger than a person to slit their throat.

You just had to be faster.

You had to be more clever.

And if all that failed, you had to pull out the gun you had at your back and shoot them before they had a chance to get away.

We'd get to gun training later in the afternoon, though I was hoping I hadn't lost that skill as much as I had everything else. Surely some things were still muscle memory that didn't involve thumbing over a phone—surely some of my muscle memory was still mine .

I hoped.

I was hoping some of it was mine now as I shook my body loose and let my fingers grip around the wooden hilt of the knife I held. All I had to do was outthink him.

All I had to do was slide beneath his grip and get the knife pressed somewhere that would have meant a kill in the real world.

Then I could look up into his smug face and tell him that I obviously still had it, and dying must have been a big fucking fluke, like someone catching me when I was out and about and shooting me from a distance. You could be as good as you wanted, and a high caliber bullet would still take you out without much of a chance.

"Come on, Axel. Stop treating me like I'm made of glass and fight me." I grinned when I spoke, but his posture didn't change. The way his eyes roamed up and down my body like he was still trying to adjust himself to what he was seeing didn't change.

That just sparked more anger.

Maybe he didn't want me anymore.

What if he didn't find this body attractive?

What if—

He darted forward while I was still trying to work out exactly how pissed off I wanted to be, and the edge of his knuckles brushed against the curve of my jawline. He'd pulled the fake blade back at the last moment to land the slightest blow, and it turned the spark in my chest into a wildfire.

Axel wasn't trying to figure me out, he wasn't trying to challenge me.

He didn't think I could do this .

Well, fuck that .

I darted forward again and managed to draw the wooden edge of the blade along the length of his arm, then danced back out of the way. It wasn't a killing blow, but it would have been enough to potentially make him drop his knife if he hadn't been paying attention.

Axel, the asshole that he was, just flipped the blade to his other hand and tilted his head to look at me, to really look at me. And maybe he saw the man that I was hidden somewhere beneath my new visage, because his entire posture changed.

His body went loose, and his fingers tightened on the weapon in his hand.

"There you are," I murmured in excitement, but I didn't give him a chance to process it or hold it against me. I just darted forward again.

This time, he was the one who danced out of the way. This time, he was the one who took a swipe at me that would have torn open my shirt, maybe sliced through my shoulder.

It hit me with a memory—hand to hand, my clothes getting split open. Coming home to Axel tsking at me as he pulled the leather off and looked me over to see the small slice along my skin—gentle hands patching up the wound.

And waking up to my jacket mended. Axel had spent the entire night sewing it with skilled fingers because it was my favorite.

Fuck… He'd really loved me, hadn't he?

And I'd repaid him by… dying.

Well…

Wasn't the best way to make up for that making sure it never happened again?

I took a breath and shifted my grip, flipping the knife into a more comfortable hold. Axel's eyes tracked the motion, his mouth pinching at the sides like just watching it hurt.

Would looking at me always force that expression across his handsome face?

Fuck.

I flung myself forward, and this time he pulled back just a little too late. It let me use my momentum and his movement to force him back until his shoulders hit the wall. I had to come up on tiptoe, but my knife pressed against the catch beneath his jawline.

If it was real, I could twist it up, slice it across his throat. I could kill him.

My breath was coming in such a panting rush that I felt dizzy—my entire body stretched in one long line against the front of his, and I could smell the sweat on his skin. He was warm, sweet like spice and oranges, and all I wanted to do was bury my nose against his neck and get lost in him.

Instead, as I moved to brush my lips against his, I felt the slightest hint of pressure against my side.

The tap of a wooden blade.

His knife.

"You can't let your guard down, Xavier. Not with me, not with anyone. Never again."

Fuck, he sounded wrecked.

I could hear it in the catch of his voice, could see it in the way his eyes were wide and wild and just a little too desperate.

"Well, I'm probably not trying to kiss most of the people who have a knife at my side." I tried for a bit of levity, but it just made more pain tear across his features. He pushed me back in a sudden movement that nearly made me trip, and by the time I caught myself, he was putting the practice weapons away.

"What the fuck was that?" I snapped.

"We're done for the day. You should go run a few miles. I'm going to—"

"Damn it, Axel. What was that?" I snatched the wooden knife from his hand, and he whirled on me. That same wide-eyed terror was written all over his face, and it made me ache. I had no idea why he was looking at me like that.

I had no idea what had happened.

Any memory of that expression was a complete blank, and it made me want to tear my own skull open to find the secrets hidden beneath the trauma and damage.

What if I never remembered?

The thought made something in my chest seize in near panic, and Axel used that moment to head to the door.

If I didn't know any better, I'd almost say he was running away from me.

For some reason, the sight of him scrambling out of the room like my touch had set him on fire was enough to make me shake off the freezing sensation in my chest. I took off after him and nearly tackled him when I caught up. My body might have been weaker than it used to be, but I refused to let that stop me. I refused to let him get away from me.

Not now, not ever. If death couldn't keep us apart, I wasn't going to let something as ridiculous as his piss poor attitude manage.

I grabbed him by the shoulder and used his momentum to spin him, slamming his back against the wall again. This time, my arms skated down the length of his and pinned his wrists at his sides.

He could have stopped me—I was aware he could still overpower me right now if he wanted to, but his eyes looked haunted.

He was looking at me like I was a ghost, and I couldn't blame him. That's probably exactly what I seemed like to him.

I wanted to feel bad. I wanted to apologize for how hard this was on him, but I was too busy being infuriated that he'd tried to leave.

"Listen Axel, I know this is hard on you. I get it." I came up on my toes so I could press close to him—my lips grazed the shell of his ear, and I felt him shudder.

This was familiar, too. Axel beneath me.

Axel, soft and pretty and open and begging.

Axel crying.

Axel in chains, and I…

Oh…

Oh.

"You know, when you used to run from me, I think you wanted me to catch you. I think you liked it."

I remembered that, too. Brief little snippets of it, us getting lost together in the woods on purpose just so I could chase him… and I…

"Xavier… I…" He took a gasping breath and slid from my grip as easily as if I weren't holding onto him at all. I let him go this time—it was too late. I'd already seen beneath the rough exterior he was trying to present.

I'd already seen past all of his bravado enough to remember who we were.

What we were.

And now that I had, there was no way I was going to let it go.