After The Fall - END

22. His Demeanour

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Waking up with Xander's arm wrapped tightly around me wasn't something I'd ever imagined would happen in the near future. Yet, here I am, my nose nestled against the curve of his neck, involuntarily breathing in his scent as I fell asleep.

I glanced up and found him still with his eyes closed, an unexpected calmness replacing the anger or intensity I'd seen during his warrior training. His full lips came into view, a single scar crossing both the upper and lower ones-a small mark that piqued my curiosity about its origin.

His warm breath brushed my face, and my gaze traced the contours of his features. From the strong jawline to the high bridge of his nose, there was nothing soft about him.

Shifting slightly, I surveyed our surroundings, plotting my escape plan while he remained seemingly sound asleep. His even breathing contradicted the firm hold he maintained on my bare chest. It was only then that I realized my hand was pressed against his chest, directly over the largest scars that adorned his torso. The black tattoos, like a tribal shield, concealed every mark. Did he intentionally hide them?

His hands, too, bore intricate tattoos along the sleeves, but that wasn't my current focus.

"You're crushing me," I murmured, as his arms tightened, pulling me even closer.

"You didn't complain last night," Xander replied, eyes still shut. His voice, heavy and lazy, was unlike anything I'd heard from him yesterday.

"I was using you for body heat," I retorted. "But I don't need it anymore."

"Already feeling better?"

"No, my bum still hurts," I lied. He hits hard but not that hard to the point it will hurt me that much. I'm sure he could do much worse if he intended to hurt me, but still I don't want him to know.

His calloused hand wandered to the spot on my bottom where he'd struck me yesterday. I gasped when he touched me there.

Xander opened his eyes, full of worry. "I applied ointment to your butt last night; it's supposed to speed up healing. Your skin wasn't too red when I did it."

My brain processed every word, tracing their meaning in my head. Xander's hands rested directly on my butt, which struck me as odd. I glanced down and realized that instead of Sabrina's blouse and jeans, I was only wearing a t-shirt.

I shifted my legs slightly, checking whether I had panties on. The answer was no. That explained why I could distinctly feel Xander's hand on my buttocks.

"Where are my clothes?" I asked, regulating my breathing to quell the rising panic.

"You sleep in this kind of attire, right? I've never seen you sleep in the same clothes you wore during the day." Xander responded with another question instead of a direct answer.

Taking another deep breath, I struggled to make sense of Xander's alternating between kindness and cruelty. His behaviour left me bewildered, even though the attention he showed was sweet. You don't say "sweet" to someone that struck you. "Could you let me go? I'm still mad at you for hitting me."

"You don't yell at me in front of my warrior, that's a sign of you wanting to challenge me." I furrowed my brow at his sentence and he willingly elaborated. "In my culture, if you want to rise to the top you have to challenge the leader and what you did yesterday is a sign of you wanting to challenge me. The result is one of us should die and I'm pretty sure it isn't me. If you continue your act yesterday, you will end up having to face one of my warriors if I refuse to accept your challenge. You don't disrespect the general in front of his warrior, that's the same as disrespecting them."

I know the first part when you have to challenge the current general to replace him, but I don't know the rest of that. Xander's explanation made sense, even if it was a lot to process. So, in a way, he was saving me from a potentially deadly situation. But I couldn't let go of the fact that he'd hit my butt. "But you didn't need to hit my butt."

He continued to sweep his hand over my butt. "They need to hear that I've dealt with you. Making you scream is the easiest way to convey that message. Besides, reasoning with you in that state is impossible. You need to understand that your reckless actions could cost you your life here. Learning our culture is essential for your survival."

This was the first time Xander and I had a civil conversation, devoid of shouting matches or power struggles.

Xander retrieved the ointment from beside my pillow and applied it gently to my buttocks, just as he had with the wound last week. It surprised me; his battlefield demeanour was anything but gentle.

"I've already contacted the driver. We'll head home for breakfast," he said, preparing to leave the bed.

But I held his arm. "What happened to the people in the slum area?"

"They've been relocated to another neighbourhood," he replied.

I gulped as I asked the crucial question: "Are they still alive?"

Xander looked at my eyes alternately as if looking for something there. "Yes, they are still alive. I just relocated them to another place. I'm not a monster you know."