Falling Warriors Series Collection (Books 1, 2 & 1.5)

by Nicole René

  “That’s obvious,” Tyronian commented, his voice laced heavily in derision.

  Tidas shot Tyronian a look before focusing on his chief, his eyes piercing Xavier’s.

  “There’s more,” Tidas said gravely. Xavier watched as Tidas made his way to the other horse and snatched up what looked like a rucksack. He brought it back to Xavier, placing it in his hands.

  “A message.”

  Xavier glanced at Tidas briefly, then turned his attention to the bundle. He held onto it with one hand while his other unraveled the tightly wrapped string holding the bag together.

  Once he could unknot it, he flipped the lappet over and looked into the bag.

  He stilled, his face twisting in fury as he stared down at what he held in his hand. He looked up slowly, and everyone took a step back at the savage look clouding his eyes.

  Xavier glanced down at the rucksack again, his back molars grinding together in anger as his fists clenched. He let out a roar of rage, his voice echoing through the dense forest surrounding them as he turned around and threw the rucksack. It landed against the earth with a thud that resounded loudly against the silence before tumbling forward.

  Without another word, Xavier stomped away.

  The silence was deafening. The men all watched quietly with anticipation as Tristan slowly walked to the bag. He bent down, picked up it up, and considered it.

  “What is it?” Tyronian asked, his voice tense.

  Tristan lifted his gaze to meet his cousin’s at the same time he turned and pulled out what was hidden inside, revealing the head of one of the scouts sent to follow the army.

  Tyronian clenched his fist, his throat constricting as he swallowed. He looked over to his right when one of the soldiers asked the question they were all wondering.

  “What does it mean?”

  Tyronian’s and Tristan’s eyes met, each reflecting the knowledge of what was to come.

  “War,” Tristan growled, his voice filled with death. He looked down at the head in his hands one last time and released the grip he had on it.

  The head landed against the earth with sickening sound, tilting so the warrior’s last expression of shock was facing everyone.

  “This means war.”

  Leawyn was startled awake by the sound of the door slamming open as her husband stormed in. She instantly went on guard when she saw the murderous glint in his eye. He said nothing to her as he marched straight to where his armor was and started to strap it on, his movements fluid.

  When the tense silence became too much for her, she took in a breath to prepare herself.

  “Xavier?” she asked timorously.

  He stiffened, his fingers pausing in strapping his sword to his hip. His back and shoulder muscles bulged as his entire posture coiled at her tone. Slowly, he turned and met her eyes.

  Leawyn felt her heart skip a beat with her quick intake of breath. He looked ready to kill.

  Xavier kept his eyes locked on hers as he made his way to her. With each step that drew him closer, her apprehension grew. He stared down at her, his eyes boring deep within her soul.

  When she was within arm’s reach, his hands struck out lightning fast, giving Leawyn a second to let out a surprised gasp before she found herself hauled into her husband’s muscled arms. He continued to stare at her, as if committing every single one of her features to memory.

  Besides the fire crackling in their room, the only other sound Leawyn could hear was her beating heart. She stayed in his arms rigidly, her guard up for any action he might take.

  One thing she had learned about her husband was he was anything but predictable. He was like a wild stallion, big and powerful, but with an elegant grace that could leave her awestruck.

  Slowly—ever so slowly—she felt herself relax in his arms. He shifted her so he could bring one hand up to slide a callused finger down her cheek. Her lips parted, her breath hitching at the gentle touch.

  “Do you hate me, Leawyn?” Xavier asked, his voice a low timbre.

  “Yes.”

  Xavier said nothing in response and instead bent down until Leawyn’s back was against the animal furs on their bed again. He rested his weight on his elbows as he hovered above her. He then dipped his head and put his mouth against hers, thrusting his tongue past her lips when she didn’t respond.

  Leawyn went rigid, not knowing how respond to his advances. As if sensing her hesitation, her husband grabbed a fistful of her blonde hair and tugged until her head was arched back, using her gasp of pain to further his exploration of her hot mouth.

  She didn’t know what caused this sudden attention, but she did know it wouldn’t be like last time. He was not going to be gentle. Something set him off, and she knew from experience it wasn’t going to be a pleasurable interaction.

  He tore his mouth away from hers, staring down at her with lust-filled eyes.

  “Kiss me,” he demanded roughly, and his lips resumed their attack. Tightening the grip he had on her hair, he gave it a slight jerk to further motivate her when she didn’t follow his order right away.

  Leawyn squeezed her eyes shut, feeling her neck strain from the way he arched her. The pain of her hair being pulled into a tight grip made her eyes water. When Xavier bit her lip sharply, getting impatient, she brushed her tongue against his to save herself further pain.

  She felt his erection against her thigh then, and she let out a whimper when he yanked his mouth away from her lips and buried it in the juncture of her neck, biting down on the skin harshly. She gave a short yelp of pain.

  He released her hair and ran his rough hands down her chest until he held the fabric of her flimsy dress. Leawyn’s body jerked, the sound of fabric ripping split through the otherwise silent room as Xavier tore it completely off her. Another pain-filled yelp escaped her mouth when she felt his teeth clasp onto her right breast, hard.

  Not giving her time to recover, he quickly picked her body up and flipped her around so her face was pushed down into the plush pillow. His rough hand pushed her shoulders down and his thighs splayed her legs open when he wedged them between her. He gripped her hips, fingers digging into her flesh, and entered her with one deep thrust. Her scream was shrill from the swift intrusion.

  A loud groan escaped his throat. Resuming his fistful of her hair, he yanked her head up until her neck was straining toward him. He relentlessly thrust into her, her body sliding away from each time their hips connected from the force of their joining. Leawyn’s pain-induced tears spilled over her eyelashes and made a trail down her smooth cheeks from Xavier’s rough assault.

  Her hands scrambled to get purchase, trying to pull her body away and escape him, but his hard thrusts kept her body off the bed for no more than a second. He gripped her hips harder to keep her still and buried his face deep into her neck. The sound of his growls and grunts were loud in her ear.

  “Xavier, please!” she whimpered weakly in protest.

  Ignoring her pleas of respite, Xavier picked up the pace of the teeth-clattering thrusts as he plunged into her body time and time again, driving as deep into her as he was able.

  “Mine,” he growled into her ear. “You’re mine, Leawyn.” He groaned, sweat dripping down his brow as he pushed into her harder still. “MINE!”

  With one last sharp twist of his hips, Xavier’s breath escaped as his release came, his seed pulsing into her and solidifying his ownership.

  It was silent as he threw himself off her body. She was motionless as he tucked her stiff and shaking body against his side. He kept a tight hold of her, his arm thrown possessively across her hip.

  The sob Leawyn was trying to hold in broke free when she felt the sticky substance of Xavier’s climax running down her thighs.

  “I hate you,” she cried coarsely, squeezing her eyes shut tightly against the pain of her abused body and emotions. “I hate you!”

  Xavier ignored her, staring up at the ceiling.

  “I hate you,” Leawyn chanted repeatedly, until she h
ad no more energy to cry or speak.

  “I hate you...” she whispered one last time before she gave in to the blackness and slipped into a restless sleep.

  The next morning, Xavier woke to the quiet of his hut and faint sounds of his village waking up.

  Blinking against the stream of sunlight, he slowly sat up and turned his head to look down at his wife.

  His eyes took in her bruised lip, the bruises in the shape of his fingers on her hips, and the various bite marks covering her body. His gaze shifted to her breast, the skin around the area raised and red from his bite. His semen was still visible on her thighs.

  Xavier looked away with a grimace. He knew she wouldn’t be forgiving, and a part of him was angry at himself for losing control, but the other—the more savage part of him—was filled with pride and satisfaction of his doing.

  He marked her like no one had; his ownership was there for everyone to see. Everyone would know she was his. He’d kill any man who tried to touch her the way he had.

  He thought of the way it felt to take her so mercilessly—the feel of her body clasped tight around him and the knowledge she was his—no one else had ever been given the privilege he had with his young wife, and it constantly drove him insane with lust. He wanted to dominate her. Possess her.

  It didn’t matter that she hated him, or that an unknown army was swiftly coming to try and destroy his village. All that had mattered in that moment was the feel of Leawyn against him.

  Xavier smirked, his eyes glittering with dark possession at the knowledge. He gave himself a moment more to admire his wife before he rose from the bed and strode shamelessly to the chest holding his clothes and armor.

  Leawyn regretted coming aware of her surroundings the moment she tried to shift herself to a sitting position. The sharp sting of pain had her body protesting at each small movement. Every part of her felt like it had been run over by a horse. The pain in her thighs and inner muscles made her eyes water.

  “You will stay in the hut today.”

  Leawyn shivered at the sound of her husband’s cold voice. She turned her head, bringing her narrowed gaze to match his.

  “And if I don’t?”

  Xavier’s eyes flashed. Growling, he strode over to her in two quick strides until his nose was pushed against hers.

  “If you disobey me, you will be punished.” His hands struck fast and grabbed her chin.

  “You will stay here,” Xavier repeated lowly, staring her in the eyes. “You will be waiting for my return.” He leaned in closer, firming his grip on her chin when she tried to jerk away from him. “And you will be prepared to please me, Leawyn.”

  She tensed. He let her go abruptly and stood, turning away from her.

  She held her breath until the slamming of her hut’s door. She lay back down on the bed and buried her face into the pillow, letting it catch her tears. Her small hands tightened into a fist, hitting the pillow as she screamed. She screamed, and screamed, and screamed. Each scream became more gut-wrenching than the rest.

  She didn’t stop screaming, even as Namoriee’s warm arms embraced her. In silent comfort, Namoriee stayed like that as Leawyn broke apart.

  Slowly, Leawyn’s body began to heal. Each day Namoriee came to help her recover, and it was with her encouragement Leawyn finally left the shelter of her hut.

  “The village knows who their chief is,” Namoriee said. “They know nothing of the woman who now runs the Izayges.”

  “They know who I am! I’ve been here for a while,” Leawyn defended, a bit insulted.

  “No, they don’t,” Namoriee flatly disagreed. “They might have seen you, but they don’t know who you are. Do you even know how long it’s been since the Izayges have had a lady chief?” Namoriee skewed her with a pointed look.

  Leawyn slowly shook her head. She had a feeling it had been a long time.

  “They are desperate for you, my lady. There was great excitement when the chief announced his intent to marry. You need to stop hiding.”

  Leawyn knew Namoriee was right, and it was with that sole reason she went out to meet the people of her new home.

  Just because her husband was a cruel and heartless man, didn’t mean all the Izayges were the same.

  Weary at first, the village people stayed clear of her the first few days she walked around the tribe with Namoriee by her side explaining their way of life and pointing things out. It made Leawyn’s guilt mount because she knew it was her fault.

  Namoriee was right; Leawyn was hiding.

  But, she didn’t give up. Every day she went out, with or without Namoriee, and tried to be involved in the day-to-day activities of the village whenever she could. The villagers noticed, and bit by bit they became more willing to interact with her.

  One thing Leawyn noticed right away was there weren’t many children in the tribe, even though there were quite a few women with child. When she asked Namoriee about it, the girl’s face grew pained.

  “Without a proper midwife, it is hard to give birth to a child and have them live,” Namoriee told her sadly.

  Leawyn did not ask again. A week later, she arranged for a healer from the Asori tribe to come and teach her the ways of being a midwife. She couldn’t stand the thought of the mothers’ pain in losing their children, and she was determined it would not happen again.

  The villagers didn’t say anything publicly, but the next day the women of the tribe showed their appreciation the only way they knew how: making her a beautiful sword and bow and secretly training her in the ways of being an Izayges shield maiden of old.

  “Lady Chief! Lady Chief!”

  Leawyn turned her attention to the voice shouting her name, rising quickly when the young boy, Castic, came running to her.

  “Castic? What’s the matter?” Leawyn asked in alarm, meeting him halfway.

  Castic heaved lungs full of air, winded from his sprint. In between panted breaths, he tried to calm himself enough to speak.

  “Come...help…Garnette...”

  Leawyn’s brow furrowed, not at all making sense of what the eight-year-old was trying to say.

  “Calm down, Castic,” Leawyn soothed as she brushed his dark hair away from his sweaty forehead. “Tell me what happened.”

  “Garnette is missing!” Castic finally burst out, panicked.

  Leawyn sucked in a sharp breath as her heart sped up in fear. Keeping her face neutral so that she did not frighten the boy more, her voice came out calm when she asked her next question.

  “What happened?”

  “We were playing hide and seek, and it was her turn to hide,” Castic explained hurriedly. “I was done counting and went to find her. Garnette always hides in the same spot, always,” he stressed, causing her lips to twitch in amusement. “But when I went to find her, she wasn’t there!”

  Leawyn sighed in relief at that explanation. It wasn’t as serious as she feared.

  “Maybe she simply hid in a different spot. Did you look for her?” she suggested, but even as she was speaking, he shook his head.

  “You don’t understand!” Castic cried. “I went over there and there were markings—foot markings!”

  Leawyn’s blood ran cold. She thought about the mysterious army that had attacked and almost killed Xavier. She crouched down so she was eye level with the boy.

  “Castic, are you certain?” she asked, her usual carefree tone gone.

  Castic didn’t hesitate in his answer. “Yes.”

  Leawyn needed no further confirmation and quickly sprang into action.

  “Where is her hiding place?” she asked as she walked with hurried steps to the horse pasture.

  “Between the three trees and the rock that looks like a sword,” Castic explained, trying to keep up with her long strides. “She always climbs the lowest branch of the third tree and hides there.”

  “I want you to go to your mother and stay with her,” Leawyn ordered. She whistled loudly. Deydrey’s head snapped up, and when she saw her mistress, the
mare trotted her way obediently.

  “Tell the first warrior you see that I ordered you to tell everyone to go inside their huts and stay there until I return. Have them set up perimeters around the tribe.” Castic nodded and started to rush off to follow his lady chief’s orders. He was quickly yanked backwards by his shirt.

  “If I do not return by the time my husband and his company arrive, tell them the same thing you told me. Understand?”

  She could see that Castic grew worried, as if he had gotten the feeling that something more serious had happened than his friend going missing.

  “Yes, Lady Chief. I swear I will.”

  “Good,” Leawyn said, running her hand down his cheek. “Now go.” She nudged him towards the village.

  Castic hesitated, his face contorting in worry. “What are you going to do?”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.” Leawyn smiled to help ease his worries. “Now go.” She pushed him again, finally getting him to run back to the village. When he was far enough away, she dropped her smile.

  Without wasting any more time, Leawyn climbed onto Deydrey’s back and rode fast to where Castic told her to go, grass and dust flying behind her from the mare’s speed, all the while hoping her feeling that something horrible was about to happen was nothing more than nerves.

  Xavier held in his urge to growl at the Asori tribe leader.

  After Xavier left Leawyn that night, he, Tyronian, and Tristan traveled to all the other tribes to warn them of the oncoming threat and potential war. It seemed the other tribes were not as willing to risk their lives when it came to protecting their land.

  “How do you know this army is a threat?” Yoro, the Chief of the Asori, asked.

  “Besides the attack on me and my men and the message of a severed head, you mean?” Xavier bit out angrily. He was quickly losing his patience with this useless talk and the dim-witted Asori.

  Yoro looked at Xavier, his eyes masking how uncomfortable he was to have Xavier in such proximity. “As it sounds, it seems they only threaten you.”