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

by Nicole René

  “Hurry.” They finished together.

  Xillik was so used to the twins finishing each other’s sentences it hardly fazed him anymore.

  Didn’t make it any less annoying though.

  He sighed, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “What’s so important?”

  The twins looked at each other, then back at him.

  “Mother and father are here,” they informed him simultaneously.

  Nothing softened his cock more than that sentence.

  “Shit.”

  “Mother. You look well.”

  At the sound of his voice, his mother turned, a huge smile on her face. “Xillik!” Leawyn beamed, cupping his cheek after accepting his kiss once he reached her. “You look as handsome as ever. Almost as handsome as your father was.”

  Xillik rolled his eyes, smiling good-naturedly.

  “And you’re as beautiful as I remember you to be, mother.”

  It was true. His mother had aged well, and she was still as vibrant as he remembered her to be when he was a child. She was still petite, with laugh lines that crinkled her eyes when she smiled, and hair that, though still blonde, was streaked with white. Older, but nevertheless beautiful.

  “Oy! What about us?” The twins exclaimed, ambling up behind them with Hunter, their youngest brother.

  Xillik, the twins, and Hunter all inherited their mother’s blonde hair, and they all had their father’s eyes, except for Xillik. They were all similarly built, with Xillik being the tallest, standing close to six-foot-seven, while his brothers ranged from six-foot-five to six-foot-three. They all had broad shoulders, and trim waists, though the twins were the bulkiest.

  While they looked similar, their personalities couldn’t have been more different. Xillik, trained to take over the tribe at a young age, was the most serious, carrying the weight of his people’s wellbeing on his shoulders. The twins were trouble makers, and rarely somber. Out of all the siblings, they were the ones who were in trouble the most growing up, with their cousin Tyberious. Hunter was quiet, but outgoing. His smile was easy, and his eyes were warm.

  While his mother fussed over his brothers, Xillik looked around, and frowned when he realized two important people were missing.

  “Where’s father and Lévaunia?”

  At his question, his brothers looked around them, coming to the same realization.

  “Yeah, where is our sister?” Ryder asked, smiling. “I’ve missed her.”

  “More like you miss someone to fall for your tricks,” Hunter joked.

  “Hey, it’s not our fault she’s gullible,” Rhoxon and Ryder said together.

  Xillik kept his attention on his mother, not liking the look she wore.

  “Mother,” he said suspiciously, gaze narrowed. “What’s that look for?”

  “Hmm? What look?” she replied, trying––and failing––to appear innocent. Like a pack of wolves who sensed prey, they pressed in.

  “Where is she?” He asked again.

  Leawyn’s gaze flitted from them nervously, before she scowled, throwing her hands in the air.

  “Honestly boys,” she huffed exasperatedly. “You think I’m scared of you all?”

  “Hmm, y’know what I think?” Rhoxon said.

  “What’s that Rhox?” Ryder replied.

  “I think that our dear old mother doesn’t want to tell us where our little sister is.”

  “Huh, I think you’re right Rhox!” Ryder nodded. “Why do you think that is?”

  “Well,” Rhoxon mused, “I think it’s because she knows that we––being Lévaunia’s caring older brothers––won’t like what dear old sis is doing.”

  Leawyn huffed while Hunter was openly snickering now, and even Xillik had to grin at their antics.

  “Give it up, mother,” Xillik said, humor lacing his words. “You’ve been outed.”

  Leawyn, for her credit, didn’t even flinch. “I will do no such thing,” she sniffed.

  Rhoxon made a big show about cracking his knuckles. “I was hoping it wouldn’t have to come to this.”

  “Don’t you dare,” she warned, backing up a step. She leveled the twins with a look, who just smiled evilly at her. “I mean it!”

  As usual, they didn’t listen and with a screech from his mother, they pounced. Xillik was still grinning when he turned, the sound of his mother’s laughs and squeals as they tickled her following his ears as left.

  “Father,” Xillik said in greeting, closing the door behind him. Xavier, though now old, was still as foreboding as he always was. His shoulders were broad, his arms were still muscled, and his hair was gray and long, matching his beard. He was hunched over as his eyes scanning the map in his hand that he had snatched from his desk. No doubt taking it in with a critical eye to better tell him everything Xillik was doing wrong.

  “You lost land,” his father’s deep voice rumbled, not sparing him a glance. And as always, the undertone of his disapproval made Xillik’s spine stiffen.

  “It was plagued with fire, drying it out. Our crops would no longer grow on it.”

  Xavier didn’t say anything, just picked up the next document and scanned it.

  “You allowed some of our people to move.”

  Xillik gritted his teeth, trying to hold back his ire.

  “I’m surprised to see you,” he said, evading. “I wasn’t expecting you and mother to visit.”

  Xavier’s lips quirked, wryly. “You would have preferred for us to send message of our arrival.” Xavier looked up from the map to meet his gaze. “Why?” he asked, his tone mocking. “Need time to hide your mistakes?”

  Xillik held his stare, expressionless. But his insides were heated, both in indignation and the useless childish hurt of disappointment. He was a grown man, had been chief of the Izayges for four of his twenty-four winters. He shouldn’t crave his father’s approval, but he did.

  He always did. Even if knew he would never get it.

  “We can’t all be as perfect of a chief as you, father.”

  “Don’t be so childish,” Xavier scoffed, throwing the maps down on the table. “This isn’t about perfection. It’s about you losing valuable land and people of the Izayges. It’s about you losing crops that the entire tribe depends on.”

  “There was a fire,” Xillik gritted out. “I am not the Gods. I cannot control their will of nature. This is not my fault.”

  “It is your fault!” Xavier roared, slamming a palm down making everything on the table rattle. “You are a Chief. You need to expect every situation, ever disaster. You need to have back up plans for your back up plans. You need to be ready. For everything! And you rebuild. Always. No matter if the destruction was caused by Gods, or mortals.”

  Xavier exhaled roughly, turning away from him. He surveyed the desk once more before coming from around it. Xillik stayed still, matching his glare with his father’s when he stopped in front of him. He was taller than Xavier, but in his presence, in his disappointment, he felt two-feet tall.

  “You need to be better, Xillik,” Xavier said quietly. “I didn’t let you be chief to fail and undo everything I have worked my entire life to accomplish.”

  “I never asked to be Chief,” he snapped.

  “But you are,” Xavier growled. “And I expect you to be better.”

  Xillik looked down, and with one last angry sigh, his father left, bumping his shoulder with his own as he did.

  “I can’t be you, father.”

  He heard Xavier pause, holding the door open.

  “No, you can’t. You will never be the chief I was.”

  He waited for the door to close before he lashed out with his foot. It collided with the leg of the table, breaking it and causing it to topple forward, spilling everything at his feet.

  “How much do you want to bet Xi and Da got into it?” Hunter murmured from his spot at the table. Rhoxon and Ryder turned, watching the stiff way their older brother and father stood next to each other as their mother talked. They were no
stranger to their brother and father’s relationship. Every time Leawyn and Xavier came to visit, Xillik’s mood changed. Sometimes lasting for days after they leave.

  “Of course, they did,” Ryder snorted. “They always do.”

  “Cut him some slack, ya?” Tyberious scowled, grabbing another chicken leg. “It’s not like uncle has ever given him a reason to be glad of their visits. You know he only comes to tell him every way he isn’t a good chief.”

  “Kind of like you?” Trixus grinned.

  Tyberious socked his brother in the arm while the table snickered. Tyberious was only three years younger than Xillik, and like their brother, he took over being chief of the Siraces when he was twenty.

  “Hey, where’s Lévaunia?” Titus, the youngest of Tyronian and Namoriee’s children, asked, causing pause to the punching fight his brothers started with each other.

  “We haven’t seen her,” Ryder said.

  “We’ve been looking all day,” Rhoxon added.

  “Oh, really?” Hunter drawled, side-eying them. “Is that why I saw you two pounding Ifle earlier today?”

  “Shut up!” the twins shouted at him.

  “Why must you two literally do everything together?” Titus grimaced.

  “Aww don’t worry baby brother,” Tyberious smirked, clamping him on the shoulder with both hands. “You’ll bed a girl eventually.”

  They whole roared with laughter that only grew in volume when Titus got up, throwing a dirty look at them as he stormed out.

  “You know everyone is looking for you?”

  Lévaunia glanced over her shoulder briefly before looking back, not replying. She ran her fingers through Killie, her bird’s, feathers as Viktorious came and lowered himself to sit next to her.

  He tipped his chin to Killie. “How’s he doing?”

  Lévaunia smiled. “Better,” she replied. “Should be able to fly soon.”

  One day when Viktorious and her were riding in the woods, they came across a fallen nest. Killie was the only one to have survived, though just barely. She defied nature by taking him to try and heal him. They hadn’t even known what kind of bird it was. It was a long shot, but the baby bird ended up surviving and though his wing was broken, she refused to believe that Killie wouldn’t be able to fly again.

  Viktorious nodded, turning his gaze to the sun that was setting. They stayed in companionable silence for a long while, neither of them feeling the need to fill it. Lévaunia loved all her cousins, but if she had to choose, Viktorious would have to be her favorite. He shared the same quiet intensity with her uncle, Tristan. His skin was a lighter mix of his mother’s, and he had dark—almost black—straight hair that came down past his shoulders before he had shaved it off.

  They were similar in a lot of ways. They were the only two to have dark hair in their immediate family, though she had blue eyes and he had gray. He was the only one who never pressured her to talk, and though protective like all her brothers and cousins—she was the only girl after all—he was never overbearing about it.

  He accepted her, because he knew what it was like to be different.

  “My father wants me to marry,” she said quietly. She felt Viktorious’s stare, but she couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze.

  “Wants you to marry…or ordered you?”

  Lévaunia looked up at him. She didn’t have to tell him the answer.

  “Your mother allowed it?”

  She shook her head, giving him a sad smile. “My mother may be able to sway my father on many things, but...”

  “Not this.”

  “No,” Lévaunia whispered. “Not this. His will is law, and I must abide by it.”

  Viktorious shook his head. His expression rarely changed, always a mask—just like her uncle’s—but she knew him. She could read him better than anyone. Because while his face was expressionless, his eyes were not.

  They always gave him away.

  And right now, he was feeling sorry for her.

  “I knew it would come to this. I’m the only girl in this entire family. I shouldn’t be surprised. If anything, I should be happy. At least I grew up with my betrothal.”

  “Who is it?”

  “Cixrus”

  An angry scowl twisted Viktorious’s lips. “That whore? Why would he do that?”

  She shrugged. “There’s no way he would betroth me to someone in the Izayges, not with all my brothers around.”

  “Your father is a fool. Cixrus won’t give a damn about you. He’s between more legs than the twins.”

  “Don’t be unkind, Vik,” she reprimanded softly. He shook his head, looking away from her angrily, though she knew his anger wasn’t aimed at her. She gave him a moment to compose himself.

  “When?” he asked finally after a long pause.

  “On my eighteenth winter. Just like my mother.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Me, too,” she replied sadly.

  He wasn’t apologizing for what he said.

  “Lay! Hey, Lay. Lay, stop!”

  Lévaunia sighed in irritation but slowed her steps enough for the person who called her name to catch up to her.

  She turned to him. “My name is Lévaunia, not Lay.”

  Cixrus grinned, coming to a stop too close to be considered appropriate.

  “I’m going to be your husband—I get to call you anything I desire.”

  Her lips thinned, but it was the only indication she showed outwardly of her disgust. She ducked away from his hand when he tried to touch her cheek.

  “You aren’t my husband.” She told him simply, taking a firm step back. It did nothing to deter him, he only took another toward her. She refused to back away from him again, so she stayed still when he pressed his lips close to her ear.

  “Yet,” he told her. “You have two more winters of freedom, baby chief. Then you’re gonna be mine.” He pulled away with a grin, looking down at her. His gaze grew heated, serious. It made her nervous.

  “You have pretty lips. They as soft as they look?”

  Her eyes widened, his intention clear when he lowered his face to hers. Luckily, he was stopped before they could get any closer.

  “Get away from her,” Viktorious snarled, coming out of nowhere. He shoved Cixrus hard enough that he stumbled back a few steps before he found his balance.

  “Nice to see you again, Viktorious,” Cixrus smirked. “How’s Vida doing?”

  “Vik, don’t!” She said sharply, holding him back by his arm when he took a threatening step forward. There was a time that Viktorious and Cixrus were friends, but that all changed when Viktorious caught Cixrus in bed with Vida two years ago.

  She was Viktorious’s first love, and Cixrus was her first lover.

  “Get out of here before I break every bone in your face,” Viktorious told him in quiet fury.

  “I’d like to see you try.”

  “Vik!” Lévaunia cried, sliding forward on her feet, still trying to hold him back when he lunged at Cixrus.

  “It’s not worth it!” she cried hopelessly when Viktorious shrugged out of her grasp and grabbed Cixrus by his collar. Viktorious’s elbow pulled back, fist at the ready.

  “There a problem here?”

  Everyone froze.

  “Lévaunia, come here,” Xillik ordered his sister, pulling her to him by the arm he placed around her shoulders when she did so right away.

  “I’m sorry, Xi.” His sister’s whisper was soft, only a few octaves lower than her normal tone. For having four older brothers, you’d think she’d be more boisterous to match the craziness, but she wasn’t. No, his dear sister was soft-spoken. Gentle. Innocent.

  It was her innocence that he wanted to protect. They were all protective over her—she was the baby after all—but he wasn’t ashamed to admit he was more extreme when it came to his duty as eldest brother.

  He pulled her closer to him, leveling a glare over her head at the bastard who almost succeeded in kissing her, if it wasn’t for his cou
sin.

  “Well?” he barked, his angry gaze flickering between Viktorious and Cixrus, who were locked into their own stare down.

  “No,” Cixrus snapped, shrugging out of Viktorious grip forcefully. He took a step back, keeping his angry glare on Viktorious. “There’s no problem here.”

  He looked to his cousin. “Vik?”

  A silent war waged between Viktorious and Cixrus for tense moments until Xillik was convinced that he would have to break up a fight after all.

  “No,” Viktorious gritted out finally, breaking his stare to look at him. “There’s no problem here, Chief.”

  He felt his sister relax with a sigh, but he didn’t do the same. “Good. I would hate for our guest to have to go to a healer.”

  His cousin smirked at his insult. But Cixrus knew better than to try and correct him. Instead he gave him a tight smile, before his eyes switched to his sister, who was half-way shielded by his bulk.

  “Enjoy it while it lasts, Lay.”

  Xillik’s humor died at that cryptic threat, but he held up a hand to stop Viktorious when he took a threatening step toward Cixrus. His eyes followed his every move, and once he was out of sight, his sister moved so that she was next to Viktorious.

  “What was that about?” he snapped, looking between them two. His gaze narrowed when his sister and cousin shared a look between them then looked back at him. They spoke simultaneously.

  “Nothing.”

  “Don’t lie to me Nia,” he said, calling her by the name only he used.

  His sister shot him a fake smile, wrapping her arms around his waist in a hug.

  “I’ve missed you brother.”

  Xillik hummed, unconvinced. He knew that she was just trying to distract him. His arm wrapped her up tight, hugging her back anyways.

  “You’re a brat,” he told her affectionately, admitting defeat.

  She giggled, the cute sound always able to make him smile.

  “Everyone’s been looking for you.”

  “So, I’ve been told,” she said in wry amusement.

  “We’ve missed you. You don’t visit as much as you use to.”