How the Warrior Claimed

by Nicole René

  “He is not my concern, nor should I be his. Qubec was instructed to my care, and I will be the one to see it so,” she said mutinously, glaring up at him. “S-sir,” she stuttered weakly when he gave her a disapproving stare. She had forgotten her place and spoke out of turn.

  “Namoriee, as your—”

  Whatever Tristan was going to order was swiftly cut off as another flash of lightning lit the sky, only this time it struck one of the many trees surrounding their village. Namoriee’s eyes widened when it quickly caught fire, splintering in half and falling from its host with an almighty crash.

  “For the love of the gods!” Tristan cursed, giving her a quick glance before he shot off to the burning tree, calling over his shoulder as he did so.

  “Go home, Namoriee!”

  She watched for a moment, still slightly bewildered at her luck. She sent a quick thank-you to the gods before she hunkered down and continued on her way. Hopefully Tristan was too busy with the burning tree to see that she wasn’t heading in the direction of her hut.

  The sound of high-pitched whinnies concerned Namoriee greatly.

  She hurried her pace to the small mare barn that Qubec was stalled in. It was a simple structure of three twelve-by-twelve stalls.

  Qubec was the only mare the Izayges were expecting to foal, but many were hoping that, come spring time, there would be at least four more colts to roam their land. It would be the first time that Namoriee would get to witness a horse give birth, which made her even more determined to make sure Qubec was taken care of properly.

  The wind made it difficult for Namoriee to open the door. It whistled through the small gap and pushed hay and straw that was left on the ground into a small whirlwind. She tugged with more strength and, inch by inch, the door opened enough to slip through and then push close with a loud bang.

  She sighed as she slumped against the door in relief. The shrill whinny broke through her thoughts and reminded her why she was there in the first place. She quickly walked to the only stall lit.

  Qubec was still whinnying in fear when Namoriee approached her. The white of the mare’s eyes showed how distressed she was. Quickly unlatching the stall door, she let herself inside, taking care to hold her hands up in a nonthreatening manner. The last thing she wanted to do was spook Qubec.

  “Easy girl, take it easy. You’re alright,” Namoriee cooed, grabbing the rope halter and bringing the mare’s muzzle to her chest. She ran her fingers down through Qubec’s mane and nose, the coarse hairs tickling her fingertips a second before the silky softness took over.

  Qubec snorted in fear, stomping on the ground and throwing her head against Namoriee’s hold.

  Biting her lip, Namoriee eyed the mare nervously. She was worried about what the stress was doing to her. Namoriee continued to coo at her until Qubec gradually managed to calm down.

  “There, all better, huh, girl?” she asked softly, continuing to stroke her nose.

  Qubec snorted, as if in agreement. Namoriee smiled.

  The barn door suddenly crashed open with a flash of lightning that caused Qubec to rear up in terror. Stumbling backwards, Namoriee narrowly avoided getting kicked in the face before Qubec charged forward. The white of Qubec’s eyes was the last thing she saw a second before the horse slammed into her shoulder, launching her clear across the stall. There was a sickening crack! when the back of her head slapped against the wall.

  Namoriee thought she heard her name being called right before the black spots overtook her vision and she fell unconscious.

  When Namoriee slowly came to, she started to rise but immediately lay back down at the sharp pain the movement caused her head.

  “You shouldn’t try to get up. You hit your head pretty hard.”

  The deep voice startled Namoriee so much that she jumped. She turned her head quickly to locate where it came from and gasped. It was partly because of the nausea and pain the sudden jerk had caused her, and partly because the chief’s cousin, Tyronian, was glaring at her from a chair in the corner.

  “What did you think you were doing, Namoriee?” he asked, resting his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward, his voice deeper with his displeasure.

  “You shouldn’t be out in a storm like this. You could have been killed!”

  Namoriee licked her lips nervously, avoiding his eyes. The chair creaked as he stood, and she tensed when she heard his footsteps bring him closer. The bed caved to his weight as a gentle but calloused hand cupped her chin and tilted her head to meet his narrowed gaze. She looked back down.

  “Look at me.”

  When she didn’t, his grip on her chin tightened. “Look at me, Namoriee,” he ordered firmly, nudging until she had no choice but to obey him. “Answer me.”

  She swallowed, her mouth dry with nerves. “I . . . I had to check on Qubec. She’s with f-foal, and I needed t-to make sure she was o-o-kay,” she managed to stutter out in a whisper. She tried to pull away from him, but he wouldn’t let her.

  “You will never again put yourself in danger like you did tonight. Do you understand?”

  “You can’t demand something like that. I’m not your responsibility.”

  He ducked his head so that their eyes locked, very much crowding her. “That’s where you’re wrong, Namoriee,” he growled. “Very wrong. Everything about you is my responsibility.”

  Her breath caught as his fingers started a slow stroke downward, rubbing against her pounding pulse point. She shuddered, goose bumps appearing across her body as his beard brushed against her sensitive skin.

  “Please . . .” Namoriee whimpered, though she wasn’t sure what she was begging for.

  His low chuckle in her ear caused the hair on the back of her neck to stand on end.

  “Please what, Namoriee?”

  She inhaled sharply, one of those dry breaths that came before tears. Her words were a stuttering mess as they tumbled out of her. “Please don’t, I just . . . you’re Chief’s c-c-cousin, and I . . . I’m just—”

  Her words were halted, breath hitching, when Tyronian’s lips brushed her neck where his hand had rested, the quick flick of his tongue against it making her body shudder. The bed rustled when he shifted so that he could kiss her forehead, his lips staying against her skin when he spoke.

  “When you’re older. You’re not ready for me yet, but . . . know that I’m going to take you, Namoriee. I’m going to take you and never let you go,” he said quietly. “I’ll wait . . . but when you’re older, you’re going to be mine in every way possible. Whether you like it or not.”

  Namoriee froze, her green eyes flying up to Tyronian’s blue gaze in shock. He pulled away. His locked jaw and the promise in his eyes were telling enough.

  He was serious.

  “Now go back to sleep.” Tyronian headed back to the chair in the corner as Namoriee lay back down in a daze. The candlelight around her went out, and a strange electricity hummed through her as she closed her eyes.

  His words chanted over and over in her mind like a mantra.

  I’m going to take you, Namoriee.

  When you’re older.

  Whether you like it or not.

  Namoriee wasn’t sure if her next shiver was of fear . . . or anticipation.

  Namoriee came out of her daze the minute she felt the heat of his hand reach for hers.

  “No!” she cried, wrenching herself away and stumbling back. She shook her head, panic making her eyes wide.

  “You can’t make me. I don’t accept!”

  Tyronian’s expression darkened, and she knew immediately that she had said the wrong thing. His eyes got this predatory gleam in them, and she recognized she was in trouble when he started to stalk towards her.

  “You knew this day would come. I’ve warned you. Whether you like it or not. Remember?”

  She could hear her breathing accelerate, the breaths coming out in shallow, uneven pants as she stared up at him. She was retreating as he was advancing, his big, muscular body rippling with
each step he took towards her.

  “You don’t know what you’re doing. What you’re asking,” Namoriee said timidly. Tyronian’s lips pulled back in a carnal smirk, his eyes glittering in dark amusement.

  “That’s where you’re wrong, Namoriee,” he purred. “I know exactly what I’m doing, and I know exactly what I want.”

  Her back collided with the wall; his chest brushed against hers as he caged her in with his arms. He dipped his head to capture and ensnare her eyes with his.

  “I want you. All of you, and that’s never gonna change. I waited two winters to make you my wife; I’m not waiting any longer. Your time is up.”

  He didn’t even give her a chance to deny him again before he captured her lips with his.

  Namoriee felt as if she were drowning. Her surroundings were blurred, her heart beating incredibly fast, like it was working extra hard to keep her alive. Her breaths, loud with each exhale, echoed in her ears. Everything was enhanced, yet dulled. It was an oxymoron that matched her feelings.

  I waited two winters to make you my wife; I’m not waiting any longer.

  She was terrified of that fact. Terrified of the longing and conviction in that baritone. But more than that, she was terrified of the zing of excitement that zipped through her being at the possessiveness Tyronian exuded when his lips had locked onto hers yesterday.

  She had tensed, frozen in shock, but the moment his tongue had touched hers, she felt herself relax and give in. It was as if her body knew, deep within her bones, that she belonged to him. He called to her constantly. But no matter what feelings he invoked, she would never give in to her secret wants and desires, because she knew that he deserved better. She refused to let him taint his honor.

  Grasping the resolve that thought warranted, Namoriee’s spine straightened, and she forged ahead to the round ring that held the most terrifying man in all of Samaria.

  “How did she take it?”

  Tyronian was ashamed to say that he jumped at the voice that had distilled his quiet musings. Turning, he cursed Tristan, who had a barely-there smirk on his face. The bastard knew he had startled him.

  “Not very well,” Tyronian replied.

  Seven days ago, he had told Namoriee that they were getting married, and since then the village had been busy preparing for the wedding, much to the dismay of Namoriee. He grinned, thinking back to the conversation he had with Xavier a few days ago. The chief told Tyronian that Namoriee had sought him out to ask him to deny the marriage.

  For most men, that would have insulted them, but it just made Tyronian grin at the fact that his sweet Namoriee had gathered enough courage to make such a request.

  “When did you get back?” he asked Tristan, following his movements as he lowered himself to sit beside him.

  Tristan was Xavier’s brother, and in many ways, they looked similar, but there were subtle differences too. Like how Tristan’s hair was just a shade lighter than Xavier’s, and while Xavier kept his hair long and brushing his shoulders, Tristan’s was shaved on the sides, the remainder of his locks piled on top of his head in a bun. Tristan’s physique was slimmer than his brother’s very muscular frame, but they both shared broad shoulders. The thing that really set them apart was the long, jagged scar that cut from Tristan’s left temple down to mid-cheek.

  It made him look dangerous.

  “Just now,” Tristan replied. “I couldn’t miss my favorite cousin’s wedding, now could I?”

  “Don’t I feel special,” he laughed. “How long will you stay this time?”

  His expression didn’t waver at the question, but Tyronian caught the primal glint that flashed in his eyes.

  During the war of the tribes, Namoriee and Leawyn were kidnapped, but they had managed to escape with the help of a mysterious woman. When the war was over, Leawyn had sent Tristan on a mission to find that woman and thank her. What had started out as a simple request quickly became an obsession for his cousin. Tyronian didn’t know much, or what had happened, but Tristan’s presence within the tribe had been scarce the last few years.

  “I leave at dawn.”

  His brow arched at his cousin’s tone. “Well, you sure don’t waste any time.”

  Tristan’s response was to grunt. There was companionable silence between them as they watched the final preparations come about. The wedding ceremony would take place at sunset, and then a giant feast would follow immediately after to celebrate.

  Surprisingly, Tristan was the one to break the silence.

  “Will you ever tell her?”

  Tyronian’s content expression changed, and he shot an angry look at his cousin. “Why would you bring that up?”

  “She deserves to know. You know what you’re giving up by marrying her.”

  He scoffed. “I give up nothing. You know as well as I do that there’s no proof, nor a law that deems it so.”

  Tristan shook his head in disapproval and met Tyronian’s eyes calmly. “She was brought to us, Tyronian. No one knows where she came from, or who her parents are.”

  “I don’t care,” he replied bluntly, annoyed with Tristan’s questioning. “She grew up here, and that’s all that matters. No one knows the truth besides me, you, and Xavier.”

  Tyronian stood, bushing the dirt and grass off himself. “Now, if you’re done trying to ruin my mood on my wedding day, then maybe we can get ready. I see a bath in your future. You smell.”

  Tristan chuckled under his breath but stood up nonetheless. “Suit yourself. But sooner or later, you’ll have to tell her. Because if you don’t, she’ll find out on her own.”

  “She hasn’t so far,” he pointed out as they started walking. “I don’t plan for that to change.”

  Tristan said nothing in response, but Tyronian could tell he wasn’t convinced.

  “There,” Leawyn said, stepping back from her with a smile. “You look beautiful.”

  Namoriee weakly smiled back, her lips unable to muster the joy in the movement. They were in Leawyn’s hut, preparing for Namoriee’s wedding.

  They were alone, Xavier having taken Xillik with him to give them privacy. When Tyronian announced the news to the tribe, everyone had cheered, and the days seemed to fly by as the tribe prepared for another wedding. Usually, when a member of the tribe wanted to marry, all that was required was for the tribe elder to say the marriage incantation and to merge blood. But since Tyronian was Chief Xavier’s cousin, and a candidate to take over the tribe should anything happen to Xavier and Tristan, his wedding was a big enough ordeal to receive a mighty celebration.

  The whole tribe would be in attendance to watch Tyronian claim her as his wife and effectively steal her life away from her.

  “You’ll be fine,” Leawyn promised. “Tyronian is a good man.”

  She dropped her gaze from Leawyn’s. She knew that Tyronian was a good man—at least compared to the other men in their village. After all, most showed love only to their horses. Tyronian broke the mold with his easygoing nature and charm. He smiled and joked, but underneath that, he was still a strong and fierce warrior. Something he proved the day of the Warrior Choosing when he challenged Cantos, a Siraces warrior, and defeated him by decapitating him.

  But even with that knowledge, how could Namoriee tell Leawyn that it wasn’t the actual wedding she was worried about, but what was expected after.

  Just thinking about it made Namoriee’s heart race with panic and fear. Leawyn took her in with a keen eye.

  “Are you nervous about tonight?” she asked. Her eyes glittered with understanding.

  “I don’t want to do this,” Namoriee whispered, close to tears. “Why is he making me do this?”

  “Our warriors are a different breed of men.” Leawyn sighed. “When they want something, they take it. Tyronian has wanted you for as long as I have known him. The way he looks at you . . .” Leawyn trailed off for a moment. “I knew there was no way he would let you go, and I think you did, too.”

  Leawyn was right, she did know t
hat Tyronian would claim her. He told her he would, promised even.

  Whether you like it or not.

  “I’m not ready,” Namoriee admitted.

  Leawyn’s expression softened, reaching up to brush the tear that slipped from her eye before she cupped her cheek gently.

  “We never are,” Leawyn whispered empathically. “Tyronian is a good man, and he cares about you. I don’t think it will be like . . .” Leawyn cut herself off, a faraway look in her eyes.

  She didn’t have to finish, though. Namoriee knew that she was talking about her own wedding night, and she could only imagine how terrible that was for her. Leawyn was arranged to marry Xavier when she was eighteen winters. But, unlike Namoriee, she was forced to marry a man who was cold-hearted and cruel. Known to be the fiercest warrior in all the land, Xavier wasn’t warm or compassionate; he was the exact opposite of his wife.

  Namoriee had witnessed the start of their relationship, and still to this day, she didn’t understand what made Leawyn stay. Xavier was horrible to her, and his possessiveness of Leawyn was unrivaled. It seemed like he did everything in his power to break her, but she never crumbled.

  Though they didn’t start off in love, Namoriee could see the change in Xavier and their relationship. He was more . . . tame. Like his soul had found its home.

  “How are you?” Namoriee asked in a soft tone, worried.

  Leawyn’s eyes flashed with pain, her hands flying up to rest on her stomach that was just starting to show. “I’m fine.” Leawyn smiled, though it still held traces of her pain. “I don’t think it will be like last time.”

  Leawyn and Xavier had been expecting their second child, but sadly, the baby didn’t make it through the night.

  It was a little girl.

  “Enough about me,” Leawyn said abruptly, her smile back but hiding her lingering pain unsuccessfully. “This is about you. Are you ready?”

  Namoriee’s heart sped up and froze all at the same time. No, she wasn’t. She didn’t think she’d ever be ready.