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

by Nicole René

  “You don’t like her?”

  Leawyn’s face screwed up. “I wouldn’t risk my life for hers, I’ll tell you that.” She had to halt the conversation for when the twins woke up to feed and Namoriee took the lull in conversation to continue look around her. She hasn’t seen Tyronian, and the worry that she felt when she first followed him coursed through her. He had looked troubled, and she knew that the arrival for the Sicares couldn’t have bid good news. If it wasn’t for the fact that Samanthia was right in front of her—

  She sat straighter in her seat, frantically searching through the crowd.

  She was gone.

  If anyone were to ask her if she had ran to her hut to see if her husband was in there—alone—then she would have lied.

  Because she didn’t.

  Why would she? It wasn’t like she was feeling any form of jealousy or anything. That’s something that Tyronian would feel, not her.

  She was much more in control of her emotions. Besides, in order to feel jealousy, she would’ve had to felt something stronger than a general like and happiness toward Tyronian. Something like love. Which meant that she would have to admit that she loved Tyronian—which she didn’t.

  Nope. Not her. What she was currently feeling could be explained as a lot of things like in-congestion, heartburn, a general over all under-the-weather sickness which was nothing like jealousy, panic, or love. She was totally in control. So when the door to her hut flew open, it wasn’t because she was picturing Tyronian wrapped around a certain she-who-shall-not-be-mentioned, naked, in their bed that had stirred up feeling akin to rage and made her want to get in her first fight.

  No, there was a perfectly, well-balanced explanation for the sudden force she used to open the door to which she practically flew into the hut like a snarling she-banshee.

  “Uh…Namoriee?”

  Namoriee blinked at her husband, who was sitting down on their bed—alone—with wide, confused eyes.

  “Yes?” she asked, closing the door with a decided thud and locking it. If there was someone here (which she didn’t think there was—nope) then they wouldn’t be able to sneak out.

  “Is everything okay?” he asked slowly, his eyebrow climbing when she began to circle the room.

  “Yup, everything’s fine,” she answered, superstitiously searching the room. She pulled back the divider flat to their waste basket. “When wouldn’t it be?”

  Empty.

  She closed dropped the curtain and turned elsewhere.

  “You’re acting...odd.”

  “I am not acting odd,” she told him, opening the window and looking outside.

  Huh. Empty again.

  She slammed it back shut. “Why would you think that?” she looked around, deliberately not meeting his eyes, thinking.

  Where else in their hut could someone hide?

  “You are,” Tyronian replied, his voice stronger.

  “How am I?” she challenged. The bed! She marched over and got on her knees and looked underneath it.

  “Ah hah! —oh.” It was empty, too.

  “What are you looking for?” he finally exclaimed, exasperated.

  “Nothing!”

  Okay, so there really wasn’t anyone there. Just like she thought. She stood back up, looking over to Tyronian.

  “Why are you so uptight?”

  Was it immature for her to try and make it seem he was the paranoid one?

  Probably.

  Did she care?

  Nope. Not one bit.

  “I’m not!”

  “You are!”

  “No, I’m not!”

  “Yes, you are!”

  “I am no—”

  “Oh, I’m not going to argue with you Tyronian. If all you planned to do tonight is pick a fight, then I can just go back out there to the feast. But I’m tired, so I’m going to bed. Feel free to leave.”

  He was still spluttering when she blew out her bedside candle and turned her back to him, drawing the covers over herself once she was in bed. She felt his stare on her back until finally, she heard him get up and undressed before he blew out his candle and joined her in bed, all the while mumbling under his breath.

  It was quiet between them for a few beats, until, “I was not acting uptight.”

  “Get out!”

  “T-t-torrick, do y-y-you think I’m odd?”

  Torrick’s head snapped in her direction, and his brows pulled low over his eyes in anger.

  “Did someone call you that?” he demanded.

  Namoriee looked away, which was telling enough. Torrick has been her only friend for years now, and she was always happy to see him. Tomorrow, she would go back with Aggod to the Izayges and it will be the last time she will travel with her since upon her return, she will be working as a handmaiden for the wife of her chief. Which Torrick must have remembered because then he stated, “you’re worried about how she will think of you.”

  Namoriee looked down, and she heard him sigh, knowing he was right.

  “Namoriee, you have nothing to worry about. You’re going to do fine, and she’s going to love you.”

  “H-h-how do y-y-you know?” Namoriee whispered, starting to get teary. “How am I going to b-b-be able to t-t-talk to her?”

  Fingers touched her chin, and a moment late she was looking up into the eyes of her friend, who were as serious as they were gentle when they investigated her own.

  “I know because you’re beautiful, and kind, and funny,” he smiled when she rolled her eyes, but wouldn’t let her look away from him. “But I know mostly because I love you and think all those things and I don’t think that of anyone.”

  “Not even B-b-byne?” she teased. Byne was his little brother, who was just a year younger than her.

  “Especially not him,” Torrick grinned at her giggle. He grew serious again, cupping both of her cheeks in his much bigger palms.

  “Namoriee, you have been my closest friend, and I love you like you were my own kin. I don’t know why the people of your tribe treats you the way they do, but you don’t know how special you are. My only hope is that one day the Gods will let you see just how strong and beautiful you are, so that you may hold your head high and proud.”

  Her eyes filled with liquid, and he did nothing but to rest his forehead against hers. “I’m going to miss you, my little bird. But I look forward to the day I get to watch you fly.”

  By sunrise, she was gone, and her heart broke a little, but Torrick was right when he told her not to fret, for Leawyn ended up being one of the best things that ever happened to her.

  “Well if my eyes didn’t deceive me, I’d be sure I’m seeing a vision!”

  “Torrick!” Namoriee laughed as her feet were swept off the ground by the tight hug once she turned around. “It’s been too long!”

  “Yes, it has! Look at you,” Torrick said, grin spread wide against his lightly tanned face as he surveyed her once he placed her feet back on the ground. “You’re stunning!”

  “And married.” An imperturbable voice cut in. A hand clamped her waist from behind and pulled her against a hard chest.

  “Tyronian,” Torrick said, all traces of his pervious joy wiped from his face.

  “Torrick.” Tyronian replied, matching his tone.

  The tension between them was palpable, it made Namoriee’s hair to stand on end and shift uncomfortably. The men stared at each other impassively, even as their eyes spit a different script.

  “I suppose congratulations are in order.”

  “It would appear so,” Tyronian says, with something resembling smug possessiveness. An annoyed expression briefly crossed Torrick’s face. He went to respond, but Tyronian was already leading her away.

  “What—” Namoriee spluttered. Tyronian’s arm tightened around her, disabling her from looking over her shoulder like she motioned to. She stumbled, having trouble keeping up with Tyronian’s long strides.

  “This was a mistake,” Tyronian muttered darkly once he slammed the
wood door closed behind him.

  “I gave explicit orders for him to not be here!”

  They arrived at the Sicares village a week ago, after Tyronian had told he had business there the night after Castic’s feast. She knew that Tyronian had strong ties to the tribe and knew that he visited frequently but it wasn’t until their stay that she learned the extent of his bond. The Sicares treated him with more respect than the expected amount from him being an Izayges warrior. They treated him like he was one of their own; the admiration reflected clearly in the eyes of whoever he spoke with. He even had his own hut here in the village, which were made completely of stone. He could easily decide to be chief, and the people would welcome him without batting an eye.

  “He wasn’t supposed to return until we left!” A muscle ticked in his jaw as he raged, his fist clenched at his sides while he paced. She didn’t know the history between Tyronian and Torrick, but the sight of him clearly aggravated him.

  “You mean Torrick, don’t you?” Namoriee asked, latching onto what he just said. “You gave orders for him to be sent away so that I wouldn’t see him?”

  Tyronian’s step faltered just long enough to inform her that she was right.

  “Why?” she breathed, shocked.

  “Do you wish it were him?” he snapped, suddenly furious. “Is that why you fruitlessly fought my marriage proposal, because you were saving yourself for him?”

  “What? No!”

  “You sure about that?” Tyronian demands. “I asked you once what your relationship was, you said you were just friends. Did you lie to me?”

  “We are friends!”

  His nostrils flared. “People don’t react that way for ‘just friends.”

  She gaped at him. “Are you jealous?”

  “Yes,” he said, nonplused. “I’m jealous because you’re my wife, and I have never once seen you smile at me the way you just did for him.”

  Namoriee stood there, blinking at him. “You’re being ridiculous!”

  “Am I?” His eyes narrowed. He had seen the happiness on Namoriee’s face when Torrick hugged her. Something violent had stirred inside of him at their easy comrade. He wanted to cut Torrick’s hands off, just to ensure that he will never touch what was his again.

  He walked her backwards until her knees touched the bed—a slab of stone that’s surface was smoothed flat to hold the feather-filled pad—and pushed her down. He braced his hands down on either side of her.

  “Do you have feelings for him?” he asked as he leaned over her, meeting her eyes.

  “And if I say yes?”

  He smiled, knowing that she was purposely goading him now—it wasn’t a nice smile. “Then I’ll eliminate the competition.”

  She stayed silent, clearly trying to figure out if he was implying what she thought he was implying.

  He was.

  “I don’t share. His life means nothing to me.” Her eyes widened. “You’re my wife. I claimed you, and I don’t share. If you value his life, then forget whatever you think you feel for him because his life means nothing to me. Do you understand?”

  “You claimed me?” she scoffed. “I’m not a thing to be owned!”

  “But you are owned, my sweet.” He gripped her wrists when she tried to push him away. “I want to be the reason why you smile. I want your hugs. I want your happiness. I want everything; even if I have to start to take it by force.”

  “You sound like Xavier.” She meant it as an insult, but it just made his mouth twitch in humor.

  “My cousin is a smart man.”

  He whipped her around, bending her over their bed and pinned her beneath him. She gasped when he pressed into her, letting her feel the hard bulk of his erection against the curve of her ass. One hand kept her arms at the small of her back, while the other trailed down her body. She shivered when his fingers grazed the underside of her breasts before trailing down her sternum, past her navel, until it disappeared underneath her skirts. Namoriee inhaled sharply when he parted her slick folds and touched the needy flesh within. She moaned when he pressed down on the swollen nub, rubbing in soft circles.

  “Do you like that?” Tyronian whispered seductively in her ear. “Do you like the way my fingers feel against you? Inside you?”

  She whimpered when he added another digit, pumping inside her in a steady rhythm. “Are you thinking about him?” he growled. “Are you wishing these are his fingers inside you?” He shoved into her with more force, making her gasp.

  “Do you?” he demanded.

  She shook her head, her trembling quickly becoming a full-on shake.

  “Not good enough.”

  She cried out when he withdrew his fingers from inside her suddenly, effectively halting her orgasm.

  “You’ll never know the touch of him,” he snarled after he’s flipped her over so that they were chest to chest. He nudged her legs apart with his thighs, stepping between them. His hands unbuckled his pants. “You’ll never know what his cock feels like inside you,” he yanked her to the edge of the bed, the head of his penis nudging at her folds. He spears her with his eyes, holding her gaze captive as he leaned forward, lips hovering over hers.

  “Why is that, Namoriee?”

  “Because I’m yours,” she whispered breathlessly.

  “Say it louder.”

  He started to press into her, one inch by delicious inch at a time. No matter how many times they’ve been together, she can never quite get over his girth. He might not be the longest, but he was thick; so thick, that it was an effort for her body to accept him each time they joined.

  “I’m…” she shuddered, as he began to press into her harder. “I’m…!”

  “Louder!”

  She could feel him stretching her, forcing her most delicate tissue to ease and accept his penetration. Her inner depths screamed its refusal, but the copious head of his shaft ignored the resistance and continued to pillage inside of her until she felt nothing but his ownership.

  “Say— “

  “I’m yours!” she shrieked when he finally thrust the last few inches inside of her roughly. Her back arched at the sensation, hips nudging forward, seeking more pressure, more pain, more pleasure.

  “Ah!”

  “Are you seeing me, or him?” his voice was a husky growl as he started a rhythm inside of her. “Maybe I should go get Torrick, so he can watch me fuck you. Would you like that? Would you like for him to watch me own you? Let him see how slick my cock is each time it comes out of your tight little cunt?”

  His words were filthy, sickening even. Wrong. But the picture he painted made her hot—hot with shame, and arousal. He was twisting something intimate between them, turning something that was supposed to be pure, dirty.

  “Naughty girl,” he rasped in her ear, “you do like that. I can feel it. Maybe I will, just to teach you both a lesson. Or maybe…” he bent over her more, his chest flush with hers as his hips picked up the pace, plunging inside her with varying force.

  “Maybe I’ll ask him to join us. I’ll take this cunt, while he fills your mouth. I’ll watch you suck him off. Then I’ll watch you let him inside of this sweet body with the knowledge that you’re allowing him inside what’s mine because I deem it so. I’ll let him take you, because you’ll be wishing it was me. You’ll look to me, begging me to take you back, —to save you—and I’ll tell you no.”

  She let out a sound that a was a mixture of a sob and gasp. She felt his lips at her ear, his beard scraping the delicate lobe when he whispered his answer in the cruelest of tones.

  Tears gathered in her eyes, too many emotions were flooding inside of her. Everything was hard; his chest, his expression, his erection. He was owning every part of her. Her body, her feelings, her mind. He was making her feel hot. She felt like she was going to combust just from the pleasure he was inflicting onto her, but the heat started to sizzle out, and the shame started to burn.

  He was twisting her, molding her, so that she was his image, instead of her
own.

  And just like that, the spell that he had so cleverly woven around her was broken, shattered as swiftly as her orgasm.

  “No!”

  She had screamed it on her release, shocking them both. The aftershocks of her orgasm were still slamming into her when she pushed back at him, lunging. The action and motion caught him so off guard that he could only clamp onto her thighs and bring her with him when he fell backwards, taking the brunt of the fall on his back with her on top of him.

  “No!” she said again, quickly straddling him so that she was in the position of power. “No, I won’t! I won’t like it, and I won’t accept it, and you wouldn’t either!”

  His eyes were wide as he stared at her, his mouth dropped open. She was shaking, and crying as she started to grate against him, sliding up and down his engorged flesh. She lashed out at him, grabbing a fistful of his hair and pulling so that his neck strained as she bent over him. Her eyes were liquid fire compared to his own.

  “I’m not your slut to be passed around! I am your wife, and I own this cock” she sneered the word, “as much as you own this cunt. So, if you want to share, then do what I asked from the beginning and release me of your bond and share whatever pair of legs you see fit, because they will not be mine!”

  “Gods, Namoriee,” Tyronian growled, surging up and grabbing a fistful of her own hair. She battled him, but his grip was too strong. Her yanked her forward and claimed her with his lips. He groaned when she bit him, refusing to bow down.

  “You’re mine,” he heaved once he pulled away, lifting his hips to meet her jerky thrusts. “I’m yours. You’re all I want. You’re all I’ve ever wanted, and you’re right—you own this cock.” He used the grip he had on her hair to tilt her head back, feverish eyes clashing together as they were consumed by their bitter lust.

  “Now ride me. Ride me hard, and fast. Take what belongs to you.”

  She knocked him down again, bracing herself above him with her arms on either side of his head, she did just that. She rose above him, slammed herself down on his length in hard, uncoordinated, jerks. He groaned, the sound broken and amazed as she took him. For once, she was the aggressor. She was the one making him moan and shudder beneath her. He was begging her, incoherent pleas and praises leaving his lips until he called out, stiffening from either side of her thighs and clutching her to his chest as his orgasm rippled through him.