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

by Nicole René

  “I’m horrible to you,” Xavier said suddenly, his deep voice almost garbled from his emotion. “I don’t deserve you. I never did. Nothing I do in the future can ever forgive what I’ve done to you.”

  Her eyes squeezed shut; his words like a physical blow to her heart. He was saying exactly what Tristan had said.

  “I don’t want you to forgive me.” Leawyn looked up at that. “I hurt you, I know that. It seems to be the only thing I’m good at. But for the first time—” Xavier swallowed against the hurt she had put on his face. “For the first time, we’re even.”

  Leawyn’s breath shuddered out of her. It was difficult for her to breathe. “I’m sorry.” She threw herself at him, her arms wrapping around his shoulders and hugging him tightly, crying into his neck.

  Xavier closed his eyes. Clutching her close to him, he buried his nose in the crook of her neck and inhaled deeply. “I’m no good for you, Leawyn.” Her arms squeezed his neck tighter. He pressed his lips to her skin. He didn’t move as he uttered the words she suddenly realized she feared the most.

  “I was already planning on sending you away. I didn’t want you here when they attacked. I want you to go, and I don’t want you to come back. “

  Leawyn jerked back. “What?”

  “I’m letting you go.”

  “What are you saying?” she whispered through numb lips, suddenly terrified.

  “I have nothing to offer you, Leawyn. Do you understand me?” Xavier jolted her. “I can’t change. Not even for you. All I do is hurt you. I won’t hurt my child too.”

  “Don’t do this,” Leawyn begged. Xavier growled low in his throat, swooping down and stealing her lips in a hard kiss. She opened her mouth, eagerly twining her tongue with his. He cupped the back of her head. His grip was painful, but she didn’t care. She was desperate for him. She clutched him so tightly, she had trouble breathing. She whimpered with need against his mouth as her hands explored his body.

  The kiss ended just as quickly as it started.

  Leawyn tried to follow Xavier’s lips when he tore his away from hers, but he held her back as he stood, tearing his arm away when she grabbed it.

  “No!”

  “Killix is saddled and waiting for you. Everything you’ll need is with him. He’ll keep you safe.” Xavier exhaled shakily. “He’ll keep you both safe.”

  “Xavier…” Panic flared in Leawyn’s heart when two of Xavier’s men came in behind him. They wore grim faces as they came towards her. Her eyes flew back up to Xavier. He wore his expressionless mask. He’d turned the man into the warrior again.

  “No!” Leawyn called out, her back bowed as the men each gripped her around the arms. “Xavier, please don’t do this!”

  He did nothing to stop his men when they carried her out of the tent and outside towards the setting sun.

  “Leawyn!”

  She looked over to see Tyronian watching with desperate eyes, but he was being held back by his tribesmen.

  “What are you doing?” Tyronian shouted at Xavier when he came out of the tent. Xavier ignored him.

  Leawyn found herself put on top of Killix, and before she could attempt to climb off, Xavier was suddenly there, face fierce. He forcibly put her hands on the horn of the saddle before he slapped Killix hard on the rump. Killix took off and immediately gained speed, leaving Leawyn no choice but to hang on or risk falling off. She called out to Xavier with every hoof fall.

  Xavier turned around, looking around at his men. Tyronian looked like he was in shock.

  “Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?” Tyronian asked him, wrenching Xavier around by his arm when he tried to walk away from him. “You let her go off alone!” he yelled, pointing to the space where Killix and Leawyn had been. “Who’s going to protect her?”

  Xavier pulled his arm away. The blank glare was more terrifying than any other look he’d ever given Tyronian.

  “I took your advice. I let her go,” Xavier said, his voice monotone. He looked out to the distance, his mask wavering for a split second before he brought it back up. “Get ready. It will be dark soon.”

  With nothing else left to say, Xavier walked away to get ready to face the army that had eluded him.

  He had a score to settle.

  How had Leawyn’s life gotten so messed up so fast?

  She couldn’t believe what just happened. How could Xavier send her away?

  I want you to go, and I don’t want you to come back.

  She hasn’t been able to stop crying, or Killix—no matter how many times she tried.

  It was like he knew he was supposed to carry her as far away as he could.

  The sun had set a long time ago, and Leawyn was sick with worry and “what ifs.’”

  Had Asten attacked?

  If he did, were the Samaritans winning or losing?

  Was Xavier alive? Was Tyronian?

  Leawyn couldn’t take it anymore. She pulled Killix’s reins so hard, it snapped his head back. The horse showed his displeasure by skidding to a stop and rearing up on his hind legs. He landed on his feet hard, stomping in place and throwing his head in anger. She climbed down from him while she had the chance. Killix snorted behind her and she heard him come up behind her.

  “It doesn’t make sense,” she told Killix angrily as she paced back and forth in front of him.

  Leawyn knew how pointless it was to be talking to a horse since they don’t talk back to you, but she didn’t care. Thanks to her husband (Or was it ex-husband now?) she had no one else to talk to. Her anger fought with her sadness when she thought of Xavier.

  “That bastard!” she hissed. She had risked her life to get back to him. She had told him she was carrying his child and he sent her away?

  “How can he do that?!” Leawyn shouted, stomping abruptly and spinning around to face Killix, whose ears flicked forward at her raised voice.

  “He took everything from me! Do you know how many times I wanted to run away from him? I wanted to leave, and he made me stay!” she ranted. Her shoulders sagged, and she flopped down on the ground, emotionally drained.

  “I thought things were getting better between us,” Leawyn lamented.

  Killix bent his head down, nudging Leawyn’s shoulder with his wet nose. He sensed her sadness. She reached up and held his face to her chest, hugging him close. She scratched behind his ears. She didn’t move from her spot, and after awhile he got bored of her and started to graze. While Killix chomped on the grass, everything Xavier had ever said to her replayed in her mind.

  You will become my wife, Leawyn.

  You’ll never escape me, Leawyn. Wherever you are, I’ll find you.

  Every single distinct moment between them came to her like a flood. The memories came to her one after another—the good, and the bad, until it was a continuous stream.

  You are the most beautiful flower, Leawyn. Don’t let anyone crush you…even me.

  You’re the only thing I can’t stand to lose.

  I’m going to make you love me.

  I don’t deserve you. I never did.

  Leawyn shot to her feet, heart pounding. All this time, she thought he had the power, that he controlled her—but she was wrong.

  She had the power over him. Xavier didn’t get to drive her away.

  She was going back.

  Killix must have sensed her resolution because he came up beside her, rippling with energy and ready to head into what would undoubtedly be a dangerous journey.

  Whoever was reborn into Killix was an amazing warrior in his lifetime.

  “Run hard, Killix,” Leawyn whispered into his ear when she climbed up his back. She barely had to tap his sides before he shot off, clumps of dirt and grass soaring behind him as his hooves flew over the ground, going the opposite direction as before.

  Xavier had a moment of déjà vu.

  The camp was up in flames, and all around him people were fighting for their lives. He grudgingly admitted that Asten was smart with his battle plan
ning—but so was Xavier.

  Just as Leawyn promised, their enemy attacked at nightfall. Fittingly, the moon was kidnapped by a thick fog that had come so swiftly, he felt it was the great Goddess Ianna, preparing herself to watch the battle and judge who was to be reborn into her precious warhorses.

  Xavier had no plan of dying today, and as such, he would not be joining the fate of his forefather Saviero.

  Asten’s army had been the one to attack first, and as much as Xavier hated to admit it, he did it creatively. Huge balls of kindling had been set alight with flames and rolled down the incline. It was a tactic meant to catch them off guard and eliminate most of their men. It would have worked, too, if Xavier had not prepared his own surprise tactic.

  While there were casualties with Asten’s attack, it wasn’t the amount he was sure Asten had hoped for.

  The tents had been empty.

  Xavier had waited until the army had charged down the hill before he revealed himself with a volley of arrows tipped with fire.

  The sound of their warriors colliding with each other was akin to the crash of thunder.

  The Izayges, Asori, and Siraces warriors were strong—but so were Asten’s. He had no idea where Leawyn’s friend had managed to get this many men. Xavier could admit they were outnumbered. Where did they come from?

  It seemed, for the first time in a long while, the Samaritans had a worthy challenger. But the foot soldiers weren’t the ones Xavier wanted to challenge. He wanted the leader.

  Just the thought of Asten brought his bloodlust to the surface. He hacked off the arm of a man who tried to slice his side; his sword was a blur when he swung. He was moving on to his next victim before the body even hit the ground.

  His sword effortlessly fell into a pattern of strikes, both the offensive and defensive. Xavier didn’t know who was winning, nor did he care. The night reverberated with men dying, swords clashing, and sounds of victory. His sole focus was on the man who was decapitating Xavier’s tribesmen as easily as Xavier himself, which could only mean one thing—he was the leader.

  Just then, the man in question looked up, hazel eyes colliding with Xavier’s. The hate that flashed in their depths and contorted his face was all the confirmation he needed.

  He had found Asten.

  They cut a path towards each other with a vengeance, bodies dropping with each step they took until they stood in front of each other, not but a foot apart, and stared each other down as they prepared to partake in what was sure to be the fiercest battle of the night.

  “I’ve been waiting a long time for this,” Asten called out to Xavier loudly so his voice wasn’t drowned out by the sounds around them.

  “What do you want?” Xavier said in reply, skipping to the point.

  “I want you to die.” Asten’s expression filled with menace. “I want what’s rightfully mine.”

  Anger made Xavier’s hands grip his sword tighter.

  “You mean my wife?” He kept his face emotionless, but felt satisfaction when Asten’s face turned red with his anger at the taunt.

  “She won’t be yours for long,” Asten replied self-assuredly. “You’ll be dead, and she’ll be in my bed tonight, and every night after.”

  Xavier’s face hardened.

  “That will never happen.”

  Then he lunged.

  Leawyn was pleasantly surprised to find she wouldn’t be the only one charging head-long into battle on horseback. She should have known the Samaritan warriors would fight with their war horses—they were known for their incredible horsemanship, after all.

  Few have noticed her yet presence, and she supposed that was understandable considering how much chaos there was. It was an advantage she gladly took, and she didn’t take it for granted. Leawyn reached back, yanked an arrow, and had it sailing in the air before she fully registered she’d raised her bow.

  If the fighting warriors didn’t notice her before, they did now.

  Steel met steel in a flurry of parries and thrusts. Nothing was held back as Xavier and Asten fought. There was no toying with each other; they didn’t test each other’s skills. It was a dance between two predators who had everything to lose. Their movements were practiced, precise, and quick.

  Asten lurched forward, making a daring jab for Xavier’s throat. Xavier brought his sword up on reflex, neck straining back from the tip of glistening steel. Asten pushed forward, their swords shaking as they both wrestled to keep from being cut.

  “I thought you were supposed to be the greatest warrior?” Asten taunted. “I’m almost disappointed.”

  Xavier growled. That was the second time Asten had gotten the leg up on him and Asten knew it.

  “At least you’ve heard of me.”

  Xavier knocked Asten’s sword away from him and swung a right hook straight into Asten’s cheek. Asten stumbled back, blood trickling out of his nose.

  Xavier didn’t let him recover, and this time, Asten was the one who brought his sword up to narrowly avoid getting his neck sliced in half. Xavier pushed forward, his speed leaving Asten no choice but to try and deflect every shot aimed at him.

  Their deadly dance continued.

  As far as fighting went, Leawyn felt she was doing a pretty good job at not getting killed.

  She had lost Killix some time ago. It became too difficult for her to shoot her bow with Killix constantly bowling through any warrior he could reach. Being it was her first battle and all, she wasn’t aware of just why they were called warhorses. She certainly understood now.

  The horse was nuts.

  When her fellow Samaritans realized she was amongst their numbers, they had tried their best to protect her. But it became apparent there were just too many enemies, and they couldn’t afford to lose their focus. Leawyn tried to stick to the outskirts as best she could, keeping her eye out for her husband and Tyronian in between arrows.

  No sign of them yet.

  Leawyn lost herself in the motions; notch, pull, release.

  She didn’t notice the man behind her and the arrow he pulled from his quiver until it was too late. She turned at the sound to see his arrow aimed and ready. Her fear made her immobile, her feet refused to move. Her attacker sneered, joy lighting up his eyes at the fact he would be the one to kill her. He raised his bow and pulled the string back. Leawyn’s eyes squeezed shut. This was it. She was going to be responsible for killing herself and the life inside her.

  A whinny rang out, and the ground thundered. Leawyn’s eyes snapped open, and she watched, horrified as Killix charged at her attacker—who had turned at the distraction— full force.

  Killix slammed into her attacker’s body at the same time he released the arrow.

  “KILLIX!”

  It was too late.

  Her attacker went sailing through the air, and his body making a sickening crunch when it landed dead on impact.

  “No, no, no,” Leawyn chanted, falling to her knees beside Killix’s massive body. “Please no,” she sobbed, her hand hovering over his beautiful, muscled form. “Killix!”

  The arrow meant for her was now lodged into his chest, and he wasn’t breathing.

  He had saved her life at the cost of his own.

  Leawyn screamed, her grief echoing in the sound. Not caring that she was in the middle of a battlefield, Leawyn threw herself on top of Killix’s body and sobbed.

  Leawyn didn’t know how long she laid over Killix and cried. She knew it was dangerous—she was in the middle of a battlefield, but she didn’t care.

  He was still warm. His shiny black coat was wet with sweat. It was almost like she could pretend Killix was sleeping.

  But he wasn’t, and that fact broke her heart.

  It was the blood that finally made Leawyn move away from Killix’s body. She stood up, refusing to look down and into his dead eyes. That’s when she took in her surroundings. She gasped, hope blossoming in her chest. It seemed that the Izayges were no longer outnumbered, and were now driving their opponents back.


  They were winning.

  A flash of movement from the corner of her eye got her attention. She turned her head in the opposite direction and looked up at the hill.

  Leawyn froze, her heart leaping in her chest. She snatched her bow up from the ground and ran.

  Asten’s sword slammed into the dirt where Xavier’s head would have been if he hadn’t rolled away at the last second. But roll he did, and his boot connected with Asten’s chest and kicked him away, giving himself time to pop up onto his feet.

  They had been fighting for what felt like hours. Xavier’s arm had gone numb quite some time ago, and he dripped with sweat and blood as he panted with exertion, physically exhausted. Asten was just as bad.

  There was an underlying respect for each other as fighters in their eyes, but it didn’t overshadow their hate.

  “Give up,” Xavier panted at Asten. “You have nothing to gain now. Your men are retreating.”

  Xavier watched as awareness flashed in Asten’s eyes when he took in his surroundings for the first time and realized Xavier was right. Asten turned and glared at Xavier. He had a desperate look in his eyes now that made Xavier’s body coil with tension. Desperate men were dangerous.

  “I found her, you know, when we were kids. She was beautiful, even then.”

  Xavier eyes narrowed, not sure where this was going.

  “She was clueless. I think that’s why I fell in love with her. She was innocent. It made my mission harder.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “We were always destined to meet, Xavier, way before your marriage to Leawyn. I knew about you my whole life,” Asten explained. “She assumed I was a part of one of the nomad merchants who frequented there.”

  “Get to the point!” Xavier barked.

  “It was my father’s tribe who attacked your village and killed your parents.”

  Xavier’s blood ran cold, stumbling back in shock.

  “The Rhoxolani were going to betray you. It wasn’t hard for me to convince Leawyn’s fool of a father to do it, either. But then you had to ruin everything and agree to a marriage,” Asten snarled. “Leawyn was supposed to be mine. She was my reward. But you took her away from me, just like you took everything else away from me! You killed my father!”