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

by Nicole René

  The husky laugh that poured out of her lips went straight to his dick.

  “What was your first guess?” she teased, rising to her feet with movements that seemed almost too graceful to be human. He watched as she came to him until her chest brushed his.

  “Do not worry, Tristan,” she said softly. “We’ll meet again.” He caught her wrist, preventing her from leaving when she turned away. She glanced down at his grip, then back to him.

  “Let go.”

  “Not until you tell me who you are,” he countered.

  She faced him again, and before he knew it, her lips were on his. He immediately deepened the kiss, forcing his tongue into her mouth. She broke away much too soon for his liking.

  “Who are you?” he whispered, desperation coating his tone. He couldn’t understand what he was feeling. He only knew that she lit him up from the inside out, and his heart was pounding a frantic tempo. His body responded to her presence like nothing he had experienced before.

  “Do not fear,” she caressed his bearded cheek. “What you feel will fade, and with it this night in your memory.”

  “What does that mean?” He held her to him tighter, but she still somehow managed to detangle herself from his arms and step back.

  “What does that mean?” he yelled, stumbling after her. The onslaught of sluggishness that hit him was sudden, and startling. He fell to his knees, his lids growing heavier and his lips tingled.

  “What...did you do?” he slurred, watching as she continued to step back from him, the darkness seeming to embrace her with each step.

  “I never kiss and tell.”

  “You...” he fell forward, his cheek meeting the hard ground with a thump, “witch,” he whispered. It was becoming harder to keep his eyes open, his vision swimming.

  “You…poisoned…me.”

  “It will wear off by morning. Goodbye, Tristan. Until we meet again.”

  He blinked sluggishly, trying to keep his eyes open, but it was futile.

  The last thing he saw was the witch being swallowed up by the night and disappearing from his sight.

  ***

  The sun woke him up.

  He groaned softly, the bright rays were blinding when he blinked his eyes open. Gripping his head, he slowly pushed himself up to his elbows. It felt like he took an axe to the skull.

  He squinted against the sun, taking in his surroundings.

  How did I get here?

  He rolled to his side. It was purely his sheer will that prevented him from losing the contents of his stomach when he pushed himself up. He stumbled to his feet, swaying when his surroundings spun together.

  What happened last night? Did he get that drunk? He thought back to last night, trying to piece the night together. The last thing he remembered was walking here after his brother left with his new wife. The word left a bitter taste in his mouth.

  He must have drunk more than he thought, because try as he might, he couldn’t remember anything else.

  He guessed it was midday by the height of the sun. His men were probably looking for him. He and Xavier’s men are supposed to stay another night and leave in the morning, but he hadn’t count on his reaction to his brother’s marriage. The farther away he could get from the Rhoxolani, the better. Besides, it would take about half a days’ journey to meet Xavier at the rendezvous point.

  Might as well get a head start by leaving today.

  He started to walk away, but paused. The back of his neck prickled with awareness, making him go on alert. He jerked his gaze behind him, scanning his surroundings.

  Nothing.

  He hesitated before forcing himself to turn back around.

  His tension didn’t ease though, because even as he started his trek back to the Rhoxolani village…the feeling of being watched lingered.

  But that wasn’t what made him so on edge. What disturbed him the most was that the gaze felt familiar and even though he couldn’t explain it, he had a nagging feeling that something important happened last night.

  ***

  “It’s done.” She said upon arriving. The man who had been casually leaning against his horse stood to his full height at her arrival.

  “Don’t sound so upset,” he told her, amused. “At least the Rhoxolani had one night of celebration before their demise.”

  But Dkésea was upset, though she made sure to keep her expression emotionless.

  There were innocent women and children in that village.

  She looked to the man she had quickly learned to despise.

  “And my sister?”

  “Ah, yes,” he grinned. “Your precious sister. That was the deal, wasn’t it?”

  She didn’t give him the satisfaction of answering him. He knew perfectly well what the deal was. It was the only reason that she would have sold her soul to him.

  Her sister was the only thing she cared about.

  “Your sister was traded, and is now on a ship.”

  “Where?” she demanded, her heart jumping in her throat when her fears were confirmed. She knew in her heart that that was the only explanation for why her sister was missing from the compound she was being held in prior after Dkésea went back for her.

  Just like she knew it was her fault that her sister was sent away in the first place.

  “Ah, ah, ah,” he waggled a finger mockingly. “We’re not done yet.”

  “But you said—”

  She cut off with a choke when his hands were suddenly wrapped around her throat. He leaned in, his eyes glistening with malice.

  “What I said was that should you destroy the Rhoxolani village and everyone in it, I’d tell you where your sister is. Now, I did I not just do that?”

  He didn’t give her a chance to answer, just continued to squeeze around her windpipe as he talked.

  “But what I didn’t tell you to do was to grow a damn conscious.” Her breath—if she had any—would have caught at the pure evilness that clouded his eyes. “When I tell you to kill everyone—I mean everyone! How is it that the Izayges managed to escape, hmm?”

  Even as her head felt like it was about to pop, she refused to grip his wrists. Not for the lack of her will to live, but because he would enjoy her fight. He always did.

  He watched her and just when she realized that he planned to choke her until she passed out, he let her go.

  She fell to her knees instantly, her throat burning while she coughed; her deprived lungs filled with precious air once again.

  “You didn’t follow orders, Dkésea. And because of that, consider our contract renewed. You fail me again....I’ll make sure you’ll never see your sister again.”

  She bowed her head, the only thing she could do to hide the tears that glistened in her eyes. Her sister was the only thing she cared about, and he knew it. It’s why he had so much control over her. She had been so close. She risked everything, and for what?

  All she had to do was poison Tristan so that the Izayges would be forced to stay. But instead of killing him, she saved him. The worst part? She didn’t even know why. All she knew was that when she saw the pain behind his eyes, the same pain that reflected in her own…she couldn’t do it.

  Then she followed him.

  He claimed that she put a spell on him, but in that moment, it was he who had cast a spell on her.

  “Now,” he said, bringing her attention back to him. She waited until the threat of tears were gone before she looked up. Her blood chilled at the intent she saw. His hands went down to his belt, unbuckling it.

  “How about we not draw this out? You know as well as I do that failure doesn’t go unpunished from my pathetic pet.”

  She did nothing but clench her jaw at the name. She learned long ago to not trust him, and to hide her emotions from him. After all, that’s how she got into this mess. He had tricked her by saving her from execution, and promised to save her sister, too. But it was all a lie.

  The only reason he saved her was to exploit her for his own personal gain.r />
  She went down on her hands and knees, presenting her back. He pressed up behind her, and when she felt his flesh brush against her netherlips before he forced himself inside the cleft between her legs, she made a vow.

  Somehow, someway, she would see to Asten’s demise.

  He began a punishing pace that she escaped by closing her eyes. And like so many times before, the same vision flashed behind her closed lids.

  A little boy with russet skin running into the arms of his mother while his father trailed behind him. He rests his hand on her shoulder, bending to kiss her cheek... her long black hair blowing softly in the breeze. His expression content and beautiful, even with the nasty scar running diagonally down his face.

  Just as quickly as it came, the vision faded away and like always, it left her wondering:

  Was the woman with Tristan her…or her twin sister?

  * * *

  Tristan’s story

  is coming…eventually.

  How the Warrior Claimed

  Copyright © 2018 by Nicole René

  © Mermaid Publishing House

  All rights reserved.

  * * *

  Cover design @ Marisa Shor, Cover Me Darling

  http://covermedarling.com

  Front Cover photography @ Joel Hicks Photographic

  https://www.joelhicks.com/photography

  Front Models @ Joel Hicks & Rhianna Grey

  All rights reserved. No parts of this publication can be reproduced, distributed, and/or transmitted to any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the published except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or locales are used factiously. Other names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual person, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  To my readers, new and old. Words cannot express my gratitude to you.

  Namoriee hurried away from her Lady Chief’s hut and through her village, dodging bodies as she went. She felt a slight moment of guilt for leaving Leawyn when she was still recovering, but she couldn’t stay in that room.

  Not with him in it.

  Only when the sound of her village dimmed as she made her way into the clutter of trees did she let out a sigh of relief.

  She turned her gaze up to the sky and closed her eyes in contentment as the sun’s rays bathed her face.

  “You shouldn’t be out here alone.”

  Namoriee jumped, whipping around to stare at the blond in front of her. Tyronian’s frown was disapproving.

  “The woods aren’t safe these days,” he added. As if to prove his point, his blue eyes scanned the tree’s suspiciously before they came back to rest on hers.

  She stared up at him silently, not knowing how to respond. She moved back a step when Tyronian moved one forward.

  Noticing this, he took another step towards her. When she retreated again, he stopped, amused.

  “You’re not afraid of me, are you Namoriee?”

  She tensed. “No, I am n-not afraid of y-y-you,” she lied, her eyes taking turns between flashing up to his face and the ground.

  “Really?” he drawled, arching a brow.

  At his tone, she lifted her chin up insolently, and her eyes flashed with emotion she rarely demonstrated.

  “Yes, really!”

  He seemed amused at her show of defiance and false bravado.

  “If that is true…” he drawled, casually taking another step closer to her. She tensed but forced herself to hold her ground. He advanced until their bodies were just a breath away, taking over her senses. Her breath shuddered out of her when he bent his frame so that he could whisper into her ear.

  “Prove it.”

  He must have felt her chest rising and falling quickly against his with her rapidly beating heart; see her lips part slightly at their closeness. Could he smell the scent of her sweat from her hard work around the village?

  They were so close that she could feel his warm breath against her cheek, and the edges of his beard scratch against the top of her head. His heavily muscled frame encompassed her tiny and frail one, shadowing her like a waterfall would with a rock. His presence was nerve-wracking, and it was all she could do to not let him see how much he affected her.

  Her limbs were trembling, caused by an emotion she didn't quite understand.

  Whatever it was, she didn’t like it. She needed to get rid of him.

  Now.

  * * *

  Namoriee squared her shoulders and tilted her head so that she could better look him in the eye.

  Gods, he was massive! Just how tall was he?

  “I believe I am, and have already,” she replied boldly, proud of herself that she didn’t stutter with her nervousness.

  He chuckled, and leaned his elbow against the tree he managed to back her up against, just beside her head and trapping her in.

  “Yes, you didn’t retreat. Good job, Namoriee.”

  She took a sharp intake of breath when he dipped his head so that their face were level with each other, pinning her with his gaze.

  “How long will that last?” he challenged in a whisper. Her eyes widened.

  “I-I don’t know.” Namoriee said, stumbling over her words, his proximity making her nervous and causing the hairs on the back of her neck to rise with awareness.

  His lips were so close to hers—another centimeter and they would be touching.

  He studied her quietly, and her eyes had a war on where to look— his eyes, or his lips. He stared at her not as a man measuring the prospect of a horse, but of a man of studying a sword being made. He looked at every detail, taking in every flaw and perfection.

  She felt exposed, and self-conscious.

  Her hair was lighter than the other women in the tribe, more of a chocolate color than coal. She was frail, her skin tanned from all the days she worked outside in the sun. He towered over her; her forehead level with his chin.

  Finally, he met her eyes, taking in her expression.

  “Do I make you nervous, Namoriee?” he asked quietly.

  “Y-yes.” Namoriee replied, just as softly. She closed her eyes when he leaned closer and trailed a finger lightly down her cheek.

  His lips brushed against hers when he asked his next question, voice a low murmur.

  “Are you afraid of me, Namoriee?”

  She inhaled deeply through her nose, opening her eyes that clashed with his vivid blue ones. Her lips trembled when she whispered her answer.

  “Yes.”

  Tyronian said nothing for a moment, and both continued to stare at each other in tense silence. It was as if the air sparkled with electricity, so potent, you could feel it.

  He straightened slowly and dropped his arm from the tree. Turning his body sideways, he gave her the space she needed to slip by and escape him.

  Tyronian stared after Namoriee as her long brown hair flew out behind her like a whirlwind as she ran.

  Away from him.

  She was young, too young even. The fact that he was eleven years her senior should have been enough to keep him away, but it wasn’t.

  He couldn’t.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered to the empty space she was at a moment before.

  Because he knew…he wasn’t going to let her run away from him for long.

  She was doomed long before this encounter because he had already made up his mind.

  She was going to be his. Forever.

  Whether she liked it, or not.

  Two winters later.

  “What are you asking, exactly?”

  Tyronian’s eyes narrowed at the question. My cousin is a bastard, he thought.

  Judging by the humored g
lint in Xavier’s eyes, and the smirk that Tyronian’s fists were itching to wipe off his face—he knew it too.

  “You know exactly what I’m asking, cousin,” Tyronian sneered.

  Xavier chuckled, shaking his head. A glance over at his wife, Leawyn—also Tyronian’s cousin— showed that she, too, was amused at his expense. Being the chief of the legendary Izayges, Xavier looked every bit the fearsome warrior he was. He was just taller than Tyronian, standing closer to six-foot-six compared to his six feet five-inch frame.

  His cousin was broad, and heavily muscled with dark skin riddled with scars from his many battles. His long beard matched the color of his brown hair. His wife couldn’t be any more of his opposite. While Xavier was everything dark, Leawyn was white.

  Her bright blonde hair that was a few shades lighter than his dirty blonde locks, and a petite frame that high-lighted the soft, supple curves of her hips. Dark lashes framed the bluest eyes that sparkled the same way the ocean does under the sun.

  They were all in the main hut that was used for their tribe’s meals. Xavier had it built for Leawyn when she mentioned that one of the things she missed most about her village was that they had all shared their meals together. There wasn’t anything Xavier wouldn’t do for his wife, so naturally, he had this giant hut built and the Izayges now had a new tradition.

  “Save yourself the trouble, and just say it,” Leawyn said in her melodic voice, with a grin that practically broke her face.

  Bastards. Both of them.

  “Fine,” Tyronian growled, fists clenching with his annoyance. “I want to make Namoriee my wife. Do you accept my offer, Chief?” His voice was sickly sweet with false niceties and sarcasm.

  Xavier’s eyes glittered with triumph when he nodded his head. Clearly, he was enjoying this. “I accept. You may have her.”

  He nodded his head in gratitude to him. Xavier knew very well that it wouldn’t have mattered if he denied Tyronian—he would've claimed her anyways.