8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Axel

I f I'd ever doubted that the man in my house was Xavier, the past few weeks of training would have been all the proof I needed.

It was easy enough to fake memories, or even certain mannerisms… but there was no way to fake the fluid grace that was the way Xavier fought. There was no way to fake the way he flipped a knife from one hand to the next in a blink, or the almost dance-like motion when he came in for a kill.

There was no way to fake how he could hold a gun like he knew how to use it, but it was obvious that he preferred up close and personal.

He could have parroted all the words, but the way he moved was so achingly him that I wasn't sure how I'd survived.

I was completely shocked I managed to keep my hands off of him, especially when it was obvious that he wanted me to touch him. He wanted things to be exactly how they'd been before, exactly how he'd left them.

And I didn't know how to tell him that I wasn't sure if they could be. The wound his death had left behind was ragged and vicious, and it had healed wrong. All mottled scars and crooked bones—I didn't know if we'd fit. I didn't know if I could fit with anyone again.

And I didn't know if I could try, could let my guard down enough to take a chance that something would happen to him again.

That didn't mean that Xavier wasn't going to keep trying. It seemed like it was all he wanted to do. He was taking his training seriously enough that I could see it written all over his body, I could see the difference in the way he moved and the way he fought.

I could feel it when he hit me.

But he seemed like he was trying to train me just as much as himself, to trick my mind into thinking it would be safe to let him in. To let him close again.

And I…

Fuck if I didn't want to give in. I'd never had the strength to resist when it came to Xavier, and I was beginning to realize that twenty-two years hadn't made a damn bit of difference.

My eyes flicked to where he stood, smoothly running on the treadmill. When he'd first started, I could see how hard it was on him. He could barely go a mile, and even then, it looked like it nearly killed him.

Now he was running at the same clipped, smooth pace that he had before—it was so strange, all the little things about him I could easily remember, every mannerism and smile. It was all there in front of me, impossible to ignore and so haunting I felt like little parts of me were breaking each time I looked at him.

He was perfect. Just as perfect as he'd always been.

And some part of me still couldn't forget how he'd looked perfect even when he was dead, though it had stolen the life from his eyes and the smile from his face.

I blew out a soft breath and forced my gaze from his lean figure. I needed to concentrate, because as much as I wanted to make sure he was in shape to take care of himself, I had to push myself just as hard to make sure I could stand beside him, that I could take care of him if I needed to.

I had to make sure I was there for him this time, no matter what happened.

I moved to the weight machine that I had set up in the corner of the room and settled myself back on the bench. I should have been running, but I wasn't sure if I'd be able to keep myself from being distracted if I had to be that close to him. It was better to keep a safe distance.

Honestly, a part of me already knew it was useless. Every second I spent near him, I could feel my resistance slowly trying to break. I'd thought I was stronger than this, but Xavier in any and all forms apparently managed to prove me wrong every time. With a sigh, I let my hand drift for just a second to the chain around my neck. My fingers traced the metal, and I closed my eyes. I could remember the pendant being coated in blood—his blood.

I had visuals caught behind my lids of exactly why I needed to keep myself at a distance, but the sound of Xavier letting out little grunts as he pushed himself to run further, faster, longer than the day before was torture.

I wondered if he was doing it on purpose to torment me. I wasn't sure how much he remembered, but I knew those sounds were a perfect mirror to when he…

"Axel, you seem kind of distracted." I'd made the mistake of closing my eyes, and when I opened them, Xavier was leaning over me. His curls were slightly damp with sweat, and his cheeks were flushed. Something about the expression just made the green in his eyes all the brighter.

"I'm fine." My voice came out gruffer than I meant it to.

"Honestly, you should give your body your full focus." He stalked around me as he spoke, and I could do nothing but keep my eyes on his figure as he moved.

No, as he prowled .

There was something predatory about his motion—maybe he wasn't something large and deadly anymore, but that didn't make him any less dangerous.

A leopard tearing your throat out over a lion would still leave you just as dead.

"I'll keep that in mind," I hedged. The corner of his mouth turned up mischievously, and he stopped behind me. When he leaned down, my vision was full of his face, of the sweat glistening on the skin exposed by the black tank top he wore. I could see his arms, bare of tattoos, and the pink burn scars crawling along his shoulder to his jawline.

It was strange, feeling like I was at such a disadvantage. As soon as I started to sit up, to move somewhere safer, he pulled the weight from the bar above me. It left me with the option of taking it or letting him hang with it there in his arms and potentially hurt himself.

I don't think he would have done it at all if he'd doubted my response for even a second. My arms came up automatically, and I took the bar—it didn't have any weights attached to it, but instinct seemed to override logic every time it came to him.

I still didn't understand how he was the one to die out of the two of us, when I seemed to be blinded to common sense every time he was near me.

"Axel, you really have to focus. You could hurt yourself, you know?" He leaned on the bar as he said it, and the angle gave him the perfect leverage to push it down until it pressed against my chest. The position shouldn't have flared a dozen memories of him tying me down, restraining me, leaving me wide open and vulnerable just for him… but…

"Hm," I grunted, but his eyes were already flickering down my body to the obvious response I had tenting the workout shorts I wore.

"Hm?" He arched a brow and took one hand from the bar. It didn't stop him from leaning against the metal, and if I was being honest, we both knew that I wasn't fighting him to regain control. I knew what I needed to do, but I couldn't seem to find the strength to do it in the wake of his touch.

"Shouldn't you be running?"

The words made me shiver, because he'd said the same thing to me a dozen times before… only…

Well, when he'd told me to run, there was a completely different purpose to it. I'd always been more than happy to play his games, more than happy to let him win.

And my body was reacting the same way now, as though I wasn't trying with every ounce of my strength to keep myself away from him.

"I…" Fuck, what was the right answer here? "I should probably… go… take a shower."

"Mm, no. I don't think you're finished with your workout yet, Axel. Besides, haven't you been reminding me from day one that it's always important to make sure you cool down and stretch?" He tilted his head, then slowly let go of the bar he was holding. "Keep that there, yeah?"

Fuck, he posed it like a request, but I could hear the demand behind the words. For some reason, I was incapable of disobeying.

It was the same reason I'd always been unable to deny him when his voice came out in that smooth command. Even though I'd convinced myself the best thing I could do was resist this, to resist him, my body went pliant for him like he hadn't been gone for twenty years, like it had just been waiting for him.

Because it had. Of course, it had. My breath came out in a soft exhalation when I realized I wasn't getting up, I wasn't running.

"Good boy." Xavier's silky tone tore a shiver along my spine and nearly gave me the strength to get up after all. If I gave in to this, I wasn't sure how I was going to go back to living without it.

If I gave in to this, I wasn't sure I'd be able to tell him no ever again.

But it was apparently already too late, because he'd circled around the weight bench to my legs hanging off the edge, and he was smoothing his fingers along my skin with a wicked grin across his face that told me he wasn't doing this out of concern for my recovery after a workout.

Instead, he brushed upward and slipped one hand behind my leg, pressing my knee toward my chest until I could feel the burn of it trailing all along the back of my thigh.

"You always told me to be thorough. Do you remember? I want to make sure you're taking care of yourself, Axel." With one hand holding my knee up, he used the other to trail down the back of my burning muscles. His cool fingers slid inside the shorts I was wearing, and a sound caught at the back of my throat. I wasn't sure if it was a protest, because he cut me off with a gentle shhh that made me swallow it down. "Always so ready to listen, aren't you? Fuck."

He shifted, straddling the bench and forcing me to part my legs to make room for him. I could have gotten up. I still could have pushed him away and told him I was doing it for his own damn good.

Instead, I gripped the bar I was holding tighter and watched down the length of my body as he trailed his fingers along the band of my shorts with a curious expression that seemed to burn.

"You know, I was a little shocked when I first saw you, but you haven't really changed all that much, have you?" Xavier slid his fingers to my hip bone and gave a gentle squeeze—it sent a jolt of tingling desire racing along my nerve endings and drew another low sound from my chest.

It made him smile .

"No, you haven't changed. I still know every place that makes you feel good, Axel. I still know exactly what turns you on." As if to prove his point, he slid my gym shorts down and my traitor of a cock slapped upward against my stomach, proving that I was obviously responding to his touch whether I wanted to admit it or not.

"Xavier…"

"Shhh," he said again. He splayed his fingers across my abdomen slowly. The weight and warmth of his hand spread through me, pressed me back against the bench more than the bar I was holding. "Let me touch you." His eyes flashed up to mine, and I could see it for just a second. The way he was just as desperate for this as I was beneath his warm, demanding voice. The way he needed me.

I need an anchor.

"Okay." The word came out as a whisper, and then, "Yes."

I'd never been able to tell him no.

In that one syllable, his expression broke in a flash of something soft and needy and vulnerable, like a part of him had wondered if I'd still say yes.

Fuck , I really hadn't stood a chance, had I?

For a second, he just brushed his fingers along my exposed skin, the dip of my hips and the tops of my thighs. Each touch was something I'd dreamed of a thousand times, something I thought I'd never have again. Each touch was something that I shouldn't have allowed myself to have now, but I was past worrying about that.

Tomorrow. I'd care again then.

My breath came out in a shaky gasp when Xavier wrapped his slender fingers around my cock. His eyes were focused, and he gave me a slow stroke that made me shiver, just the whisper of his fingertips skating along my length and nearly undoing me completely.

It was almost like I'd never been touched before, like I hadn't been touched since the moment he'd left me.

Xavier stroked me slowly, just the barest hint of skin on skin, until I was a trembling, shaking mess on the bench. It was featherlight, and when he kneeled to get a better grip, the heat of his breath playing against the head of my cock nearly undid me.

"Xavier, please… I can't—"

"You can," he said, soft and sweet—so teasing—and he kept ghosting that touch along my length, swiping his thumb through the sticky mess of precum at my tip and using it to give him the slightest fraction of glide against my aching skin.

Somewhere between that swipe and what felt like hours of slow torture, my body started to tremble. Xavier's demand to drop the bar I was holding was a relief, and I let it slide sideways and fall to the floor with a clatter. At that point, he didn't need it. At that point, I was so enraptured with his touch, with the way he stroked me just firm enough to bring me to the edge without letting me fall over. The pace he kept was nearly torture. It felt so fucking good, but it was this side of not quite enough, and Xavier knew it.

Of course, he knew it.

He'd done this so many times before that I'd lost count—hours of teasing me, edging me, turning me into a babbling, weeping mess. It was his favorite thing. I'd thought this part of me died with him, but he was here, kneeled between my legs and bringing it back to life.

When his lips brushed along my inner thigh, a whimper tore from my chest.

"Xavier…" His name sounded like sin on my tongue, saccharine fruit made to tempt humanity straight into destruction. I'd give up paradise for a taste of him. I'd give up Heaven as long as he kept touching me.

"Are you close?" he murmured as he kept stroking me, trailing his lips back and forth across my skin as he did it, his breath tickling against the hair and drawing little shivers I couldn't control.

"I… Yes. So close."

"But you won't come unless I say, will you?" He posed it as a question, but we both knew what he wanted, what I was helpless to resist.

"Please?" It was the best I could do. If I was going to go back to trying to ignore this, to keep myself away from him tomorrow, I couldn't say yes. I couldn't tell him I would do anything he asked.

But I couldn't stop myself from begging.

"Mm. Say it again."

"Xavier…" So much for not giving in. "Xavier, please? Can I come?"

"Not yet." I could feel the press of his smile against my thigh, then he took his hand from my cock and stood.

I was lost for a moment, dizzy with need and confused at the sudden lack of his warmth. My eyes tracked his movement though, when he shifted his shorts down his hips. He brought his palm to his mouth, and it came away slick with saliva.

My brain didn't connect to what he was doing until he took hold of his cock and started to stroke himself. He was so hard that he was already leaking, and my hands spasmed.

"Don't move," he demanded. I hadn't intended to, but now I felt frozen on the spot. He fucked into his palm and let his eyes roam across my body. "Pull your shirt up for me, Sunshine. I want to see you shiver when you watch me come."

I moaned again, but did as he said, dragging my shirt up and catching it between my teeth to keep it in place.

When my fingers started to smooth over my bare chest, he shifted forward and slapped my thigh with his free hand.

"Wait," he gasped. "Keep watching me."

I couldn't stop. He stroked himself and let his eyes devour my reaction. My body was aching at the orgasm I'd almost had. I wanted to burst watching him fuck into his hand, rough and fast, until he fell forward so his cock was lined up with mine.

Xavier came on a groan that broke any resolve I had left.

I felt the heat of it, painting a stripe on my stomach, along my length. He rolled his hips through the waves of orgasm, and his head fell against my chest. It was just a second, just long enough that I knew he could hear the way my heart was thundering, could probably feel me nearly vibrating out of my skin. If he leaned down and breathed against my cock, I would probably come untouched. But he didn't.

He stayed there in soft silence for another second, then drew in a ragged breath before straightening up.

Xavier's pupils were blown. All I could see was the ring of green around the edges, bright and burning and so entrancing it was hard to look away. Those eyes roamed over me, lingering where he'd painted me with his pleasure… and then he leaned back and pulled up his pants before crossing his arms over his chest.

"Go on then," he murmured. "Finish it."

My mind took a moment to catch up with what he was asking—I was still drifting somewhere in the vision that was his face as ecstasy overtook his body. He was so beautiful.

He was always going to be so beautiful.

But then he stepped forward, using his knee to spread my legs wide. "Axel, finish it."

Oh. Oh, fuck. He wanted me to touch myself. He wanted to watch me, and he'd been so generous to provide me with lube. Under the weight of his stare, I couldn't resist. My hand slid down my chest, fingers slicking through the stripe of cum he'd painted my abdomen with, then seized my dick.

I ached. Just wrapping my fingers around myself was almost too much, but I couldn't just burst at the first stroke. I needed to give him the same kind of show he'd given me.

I needed to make him feel good, to let him see how good he'd made me feel.

It was slow—achingly, teasingly slow. It was the only way I would be able to do this with any ounce of self control. His cum on my skin, slick and still warm, was driving me wild. The sensation of his eyes roaming and taking in the sight of me was like another hand on me, touching and teasing and demanding.

Only Xavier could bring me to the edge by just watching.

No matter how good a show I wanted to put on, he'd already gotten me so close that I knew I wasn't going to be able to hold out for long. The good thing was that didn't matter—in fact, letting go and letting him see how much I wanted him was probably better than trying to pretend otherwise.

I groaned and shifted my hips up, thrusting into my fist while keeping my eyes locked on him. The feel of his cum slicking my palm, giving my cock the glide it needed, was so irresistible… and the way he watched me made me feel drunk.

He was so fucking beautiful, and the possessive, burning expression on his face was everything I remembered. Everything I'd missed.

Everything I never thought I'd see again.

But here he was, and somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew I wasn't going to be able to keep myself away from him.

I wanted him too much.

I came crying his name, and some part of me was faintly aware that my cum was mixing with his, that I held our combined pleasure in my hand. He walked around the bench while I stroked myself through my orgasm and leaned over me, bringing his lips to mine in a gentle kiss that left him drinking down another soft whisper of his name as my hand finally fell limp to my stomach.

I wasn't sure if I could move… but apparently, Xavier hadn't forgotten this part of it either. Fingers threaded gently through my hair, disappearing for just a second before coming back with a towel. His hands were careful and thorough as he wiped me clean, though a small part of me wanted to protest. I laid passively under his touch as he ran the fabric over my stomach, my oversensitive cock. He wiped the sweat from my skin and even pulled my clothing back into place.

When he was done, he dropped the fabric to the ground and looked me over again—his eyes were softer than I'd seen them since he showed up at my door, but the fire behind them burned so bright it was almost painful to look.

Too beautiful. Too dangerous.

"Come on." He let his fingers trail the length of my arm before taking my hand. "Let's go back to your room. I think I need a nap."

I wanted to tell him no. I wanted to tell him that this was still a bad idea, and I wouldn't— couldn't —do it. But I let him pull me up instead, and felt my body sway toward his, hungry to touch skin on skin. Our shoulders pressed together, and I let him lead me to bed.

I stirred when Xavier came out of the bathroom dressed, that rumpled, sex-satisfied expression still on his face. I wasn't sure how long we'd slept, but I was apparently so out of it that I hadn't noticed him get up. He was smoothing his curls back from his face while he glanced around.

"Looking for something?" I didn't want to move. I wanted him to get undressed and get back between the sheets with me. I was determined to go back to at least trying to keep him at a distance tomorrow… which meant I needed to take full advantage of my lapse in judgment now.

"Wallet. Either mine or yours," he teased. "I'm sure you can lend me a few dollars, right?"

It shouldn't have made me go on high alert, but it did. A few dollars? And he was dressed.

I sat up, the sheet sliding down to my hips. Xavier's eyes followed the fabric for a moment before he turned back to his search.

"Why do you need that?"

"I was going to take a walk? Go to the store. Maybe buy us something stronger than the water and juice you have in this house. As much as I appreciate the health kick, a good fuck like that deserves—"

"You can't go out alone." Panic seized through me again.

Leave. He wanted to leave. And a part of me knew he'd get to this point eventually, but he still wasn't in top form. He still wasn't strong enough. He wasn't…

He couldn't…

My fingers twitched, and I pushed the sheet back, forcing myself not to sway, not to let the panic trying to claw its way up my throat choke me into silence.

"You can come… with…" he slowly trailed off. When his eyes narrowed, I froze. I recognized the stubborn set of his jaw. It was all Xavier, all a hundred memories of the times we'd fought before.

And it sent alarm bells ringing through my senses, because when he looked like that, I knew he'd do whatever it took to make sure that he won.

"Xavier, listen…" Did I pour my heart out? Did I tell him that the thought of him being out of my sight was nearly enough to strangle me, that it was taking every bit of concentration I had to keep my panic at bay from the mere suggestion of it?

It wasn't logical.

I couldn't keep him caged.

I knew that… but…

It didn't change the fact that I wanted to.

"No. You know what? Maybe you shouldn't come after all." He took a step back, swiping my wallet from the dresser as he did so. "I'm fine, Axel. No one even knows I'm here. No one knows I'm still alive. No one is going to come after me."

He didn't know that. For all he knew, Marshall had enemies. For all he knew, someone was watching the house right now, just waiting for him to step out alone.

Xavier didn't know anything.

"Just let me come with you." Breathy. Slightly panicked. I couldn't do this.

And this was not the time to let my emotions get the better of me. He wasn't just going to be down the driveway this time, and I didn't think it would be good for me to chase after him half-naked and smelling like sex and sweat.

"No, you know what? I've been cooped up in this house for weeks. I've been dealing with training and relearning who I am in the fucking little pieces you'll give me. I think I need a breather." He narrowed his eyes. "Away from you."

Away from you .

Just the thought made me want to fly apart.

"Xavier, please." Making demands wouldn't do a damn thing for me. But maybe I could appeal to his logic. Maybe I could…

"I'll see you later, Axel. I promise, I'm not incapable. I'll bring back dinner." He lifted my wallet and wiggled it. "On your dime."

And before I had a chance to scramble after him, he was gone. I heard the front door slam shut as I started pulling on my pants. I wasn't sure if the dread in my chest was simple muscle memory from every nightmare I'd ever had of him walking away, or if intuition was trying to tell me that something was going to happen.

Whatever it was, I wasn't going to let him get hurt.

Not again.