by Nicole René
He wasn’t even fully aware that he had marched over to them. All he was concerned about was getting his woman off Cantos’s lap.
It was unreasonable, but Tyronian was filled with jealousy at the fact that his lap wouldn’t be the first one that her luscious behind sat on. The possessiveness he felt over her was ridiculous, but he couldn’t help but imagine taking her over his knees and making sure she knew that the only lap she’d ever sit on would be his.
He easily tugged Namoriee down onto his thighs, forcibly keeping her there when she tried to get up. He ignored Tristan’s amused chuckle and continued eating as if he hadn’t just publicly staked his claim on Namoriee for everyone to see. The message was clear: Namoriee was his.
Namoriee just wanted the feast to be over.
Leawyn and Xavier had long since left, and the look in Xavier’s eyes when they did made Namoriee shiver. It wasn’t hard to figure out why her chief had whisked her friend away so suddenly. Namoriee couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sympathy for Leawyn. With their absence, it left Namoriee, Tyronian, and Tristan at the table.
It couldn’t have been more uncomfortable.
Well, uncomfortable for Namoriee at least. Tyronian—much to her annoyance—seemed perfectly content. He easily carried on a conversation with Tristan, his arm wrapped around her waist for everyone to see. A piece of chicken appeared in front of her mouth, bringing Namoriee out of her musings. She looked up to see that he was looking intently at her and shook her head in refusal. His expression hardened when he frowned down at her.
“You need to eat.”
It was pure self-control that made Namoriee hold back her urge to snap at him. She had been eating—thanks to him. After he had settled her onto his lap after the ordeal with Cantos, he had forcibly kept her there. Namoriee made many attempts to slide off him and slink away, but it was futile. His arm around her was like a steel band. Then, he had taken it upon himself to feed her—by hand. He fed her almost half of what was on his plate and gave her sips of his wine, as if she were a wee babe. It was the most food that Namoriee had eaten during a meal in her entire life.
“I’m not h-hungry,” she said, turning her head away from him.
She jerked, startled, when she felt his hand lightly trace the length of her ribs through her dress. She snapped her head back to look at him.
“You’re too skinny, my sweet. You need to eat more.”
Namoriee felt her face flush with embarrassment. Was she too skinny? Probably. But that didn’t give him the right to point out that fact and make decisions about her eating habits. Besides, unlike him, she’d had to work hard for the little food that she could provide for herself before working for Leawyn. She wasn’t entitled to meals like his because of her status. In fact, her saving grace was the anonymous person who would leave food at her door when she seemed to need it the most.
Her embarrassment quickly morphed into anger.
She was leaving. Now.
Tyronian knew he had said the wrong thing as soon as Namoriee shot him a nasty look. He sighed, tightening his grip against her struggles as she tried to get off his lap.
“Let me g-go!” she screamed, trying to physically remove his arm from around her. It was cute.
“I’m only trying to take care of you.”
“I don’t need anyone to take c-care of m-me! I can do th-that m-myself!” Her small hands squeezed his arms, trying to slide out from underneath him. He was going to have to let her go eventually before she hurt herself. She let out a frustrated growl, giving up momentarily in order to snarl at him.
If looks could kill . . . Tyronian grinned, amused. She was adorable when she was mad.
“Let me go, Tyronian.”
His grin widened. He loved when she said his name. He reached up and smoothed back a few errant strands of her wavy hair that had fallen over her eyes during her struggle. He pretended that she didn’t jerk away from his touch.
“I’m not ready to let you go. I don’t think I’ll ever be.” He stared into her eyes intently.
He wasn’t just talking about letting her off his lap.
Namoriee’s eyes bulged, clearly shocked at the statement, and her cheeks flamed. A disgusted groan brought their attention back to Tristan, who was standing up from the table.
“I’ll see you later, cousin,” Tristan said briskly, his eyes focused on Kassia, the frequent tribe whore. They watched him go over to her, and she squealed in delight when he threw her over his shoulder, smacking her behind. Neither of them seemed to care that her bare bottom was showing, even as Tristan palmed it as he walked away.
Tyronian chuckled in amusement, turning his attention back to Namoriee. His humored died immediately when he saw the look on her face. She was staring at the space that Kassia and Tristan had occupied a moment before with a hollow expression.
“Is that what you want from me?” she whispered, her voice strained in desolation. She met his eyes, and he tensed when he saw the tears gathered there. “Am I to be used to sate your needs and amusement?”
Her words made him feel like he had been kicked in the stomach. She slipped off his lap, using his shock to catch him unawares. He reached out to yank her back.
“Please,” she whispered, looking him right in the eyes.
He paused, his hand hovering between them as he kept eye contact. Her look was desperate, eyes pleading for him to stop chasing her. To let her go . . . to break his promise.
It killed him inside, because he knew that he would never stop chasing her.
He would never let her go.
It was in that moment that Tyronian knew he would shatter her world, solely because he would force himself inside of it. He would then build her a new one that always included him. He lowered his hand.
“I’ll never stop coming after you,” he told her seriously. Namoriee’s lips firmed, her eyes flashing with defiance.
“I’ll never stop running.”
And before he could say more, she turned on her heel and ran, disappearing into the crowd.
Namoriee found herself once again perched atop Tyronian’s thighs.
Tomorrow, the visiting warriors were traveling back to their tribe, which meant that tonight was the last day the warriors were dining with the Izayges. Ever since that night with Cantos, Tyronian had made good on his word and ensured that Namoriee wasn’t allowed to serve the meals.
For weeks, he’d made sure that she was always sitting on his lap during the feasts. He especially seemed to enjoy feeding her by hand, which just made her more uncomfortable and mortified.
Luckily, no one paid them much mind.
Well . . . besides Tristan, who always seemed to smirk whenever Tyronian forced her to sit with him.
She was timid by nature, but something about Tristan made her hair stand on end. Though Chief Xavier was scary and intimidating—no one could refute that—Tristan was just as terrifying, if not more.
With Xavier, you knew what to expect. There was a reason he was the most fearsome warrior of their time. He had killed his first man at the tender age of seven, and he had yet to be defeated in battle. Tristan was dangerous in different way.
People didn’t know that much about him. Namoriee knew that he and Tyronian were close, but that was about it. He kept to himself, and didn’t talk unless it was necessary. He was broody and mysterious, with eyes that were ever watchful, constantly taking in his surroundings. It was like he saw everything and knew your secrets with just one look.
But it was what lay inside his brown eyes that frightened her.
They were sharp with intelligence, but they were lifeless. There was a ruthlessness inside of him, and she feared the day that he let it loose. At that moment, the eyes she was contemplating locked onto hers, and she quickly looked down, not able to bear their cold depths.
“Where is my wife?”
Namoriee snapped to attention, looking up. It was her chief who had asked that question. The table grew still at the inquiry, and she cou
ld see the anger and annoyance in his face when she didn’t answer him. He turned his full attention to her, and Namoriee subconsciously leaned back into Tyronian’s chest. Tyronian’s hand paused from stroking her hair for a beat before continuing.
“Why isn’t she here, and why aren’t you with her?”
“I-I was, b-but . . .”
Xavier’s eyes flashed, annoyed with her stutter. Namoriee almost wanted to cry because it just made her stutter worse.
“I stole Namoriee away from my dear cousin earlier when they were in your hut,” Tyronian answered calmly, effectively diverting Xavier’s attention from her over to him. “She’s probably still there.”
Xavier stood, leveling her with a dark look. “Your job is to be with her. I can easily find someone else to take your place.” It would crush her if she left Leawyn, and he knew it.
“Yes, C-C-Chief Xavier,” she whispered. She looked down quickly to hide the tears gathering in her eyes.
“The second your little obsession interferes again, she’s gone.”
“Perhaps you should look after your obsession better then, instead of bullying mine.”
Tyronian’s words made her gasp, shocked at the coldness in his tone and the fact that he took that tone with Xavier to stick up for her.
She heard Xavier storm off, and a moment later, a hand was gently tipping her face upwards. Tyronian’s eyes reflected anger, but his touch was gentle.
“I can’t stand to see you cry, my sweet.”
“Why did you do that?” Her tone was shaky.
Tyronian smiled, brushing his thumb underneath her eye as if he were comforting the tears, requesting them not to fall. “You know why, Namoriee. No one gets to talk to you that way, especially in front of me.”
Namoriee looked away first. His stare was too much for her. She couldn’t handle the way it made her feel. She had always been the one to take care of herself; she wasn’t used to someone wanting to protect her. Surprisingly, he let her slide off his lap when she made to leave. He stopped her retreat though when she tried to step away. She looked back at him.
He looked as if he wanted to say something, but after a while when he didn’t, she pulled away and walked off.
She should have paid attention to her surroundings. Maybe then she could have prevented what happened next.
Tyronian watched Namoriee run away from him again. It seemed that’s all she was able to do. He allowed it because he knew that eventually, she wouldn’t be able to escape him.
“She’s weak.”
He turned to look at Tristan, who met his eyes. He had also watched Namoriee’s departure.
“She’s stronger than she thinks,” he replied.
Tristan was silent, then said quietly, “For your sake, I hope you’re right.”
Something in his tone bothered Tyronian, but before he could reply further, Tristan’s chair scraped across the grass as he pushed away from the table.
It seemed that everyone wanted to escape Tyronian’s company tonight.
It didn’t take Tyronian very long to find Namoriee, and when he did, he didn’t like what he saw.
She was in conversation with a man. Judging from the clothes he wore, he wasn’t part of the Izayges. He said something to Namoriee, which caused her to grin. Tyronian’s gaze narrowed, and he felt something hot slithering through him.
He didn’t like that.
Not one bit.
His steps quickened until he was behind her. She jumped when he moved so that his chest pressed against her back. Gripping her hips, he pulled her flush against him.
It was a show of possession, and they knew it.
Tyronian studied the boy in front of him, whom he vaguely recognized. He had brown hair cropped close to his head and green eyes with specks of gold in them. He was wearing Siraces armor.
Tyronian instantly despised him.
“Get lost,” he barked, leveling him with a glare that he reserved for his enemies on the battlefield. As far as Tyronian could tell, this kid wasn’t much different.
Namoriee gasped, no doubt shocked at how rude he was being. She shot an embarrassed, apologetic look at the Siraces, further fueling Tyronian’s temper. He didn’t appreciate that she seemed to care about the Siraces enough to want to excuse his behavior.
He wasn’t a jealous man by nature, but there was something about Namoriee that made the beast inside him roar to life. He wanted her all for himself, and the thought of another taking an interest in his woman made him want to go into a rage.
He didn’t want her to be with anyone else but him, and as far as he was concerned, she didn’t have any business chatting up any other man.
“Don’t make me repeat myself,” Tyronian warned when the boy didn’t move. The Siraces shot a look at him before giving Namoriee a tight smile.
“I’ll see you around, Namoriee.”
“No, you won’t,” Tyronian said.
At the same time, Namoriee said, “B-b-bye T-torrick,” over his words.
Tyronian tensed. They were on a first-name basis?
Torrick shot one more glance at Tyronian before he made his retreat. Tyronian watched him go for a beat, then he whirled Namoriee around and corralled her back until she was against a wall. She looked up at him with wide eyes when his palm slapped against the wood above her ear, and he pushed himself into her space.
“Who was that?” There was no mistaking the jealousy in his voice.
Namoriee’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. He reached up with his other hand to caress her throat, knowing that her nervousness was making it difficult for her to speak.
“Or rather, who is he to you?”
“I-I-I don-t-t know wh-what—”
He drew himself closer to her, dipping his head so that he was eye-level with her.
“I don’t like when my woman escapes my company only to find it with another man,” he interrupted. His tone was silky, but he knew the severity in his words wasn’t hard to miss.
“I’m not your w-w-woman.”
Tyronian grew still at her words, his frown fierce, but whatever he was about to say to her in response was cut off when someone called his name. He turned his head at the sound, scanning the crowd. He watched as Leawyn pushed her way through the throng of people towards them.
She looked panicked.
He glanced back at Namoriee, giving her a warning look that said to stay put. He pushed away from her and met Leawyn halfway.
He could tell by the look on Leawyn’s face that something was seriously wrong.
Namoriee’s feet carried her swiftly and assuredly, easily maneuvering past the drunk and raucous bodies as they celebrated. She had slipped away from Tyronian when he was talking to Leawyn, and Namoriee now found herself aimlessly walking around like a shadow, ignored by the feast’s occupants.
She lost count of all the couples she saw finding pleasure within each other. Some women were being pleasured by two or even four men at a time. That was when Namoriee decided that it would be best to make her way back home.
She thought about Tyronian. She refused to admit that part of the reason she stuck around the feast so long was because she hoped that he would find her again.
She breathed a sigh of relief when the sounds of the celebration grew distant. Her home was one of the huts that was located the farthest from the tribe. She had no neighbors, and her meager living space was surrounded by trees. Most would be aghast to be living where she did, but Namoriee enjoyed her solitude.
She lived close to the waterfall the villagers bathed in, and she found the sound of the water peaceful. She knew that she would miss her little home when Leawyn made her move into a closer hut to better serve her duties.
Her hut was within her sight, and Namoriee mentally calculated if she had enough wood inside to light a fire to keep the chill away. Her musings were brutally cut off when her hair was yanked, forcing her backwards against a hard chest. The rough hand that slapped over her mouth muffled her shriek.<
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“Did you think you could get away and I wouldn’t notice?”
That voice made her freeze, her stomach bottoming out in fear. Strong hands jerked her around, and her cheek stung by the sharp slap that was delivered before she was roughly shoved to the ground. She struggled as she felt his body on top of her. She looked up into the furious eyes of Cantos as he leered down at her.
“Remember when you embarrassed me in front of my tribesmen, you little bitch? Now that your guard dog isn’t here, I’m gonna take what was denied me.”
Namoriee thrashed wildly when, with one hand, Cantos produced a dagger and proceeded to cut her top in half so that her breasts spilled free, uncaring if the blade cut into her delicate skin. Namoriee’s terror mounted when he dug his knees on either side of her and leaned back, unbuckling his belt.
“Shut up, whore!” he yelled over her screaming, dodging her attempts to claw at his face. She managed to find a small rock and slam it against his temple. His grip loosened, and she managed to get out from under him, but he cursed at her and recovered quickly, dragging her right back. The solid punch he threw made pain explode throughout the left side of her face and almost knocked her unconscious. Cantos used this to his advantage and flipped her over onto her stomach.
“I’ll take you like the bitch you are,” Cantos panted from behind her.
“No, please, please!” Namoriee sobbed desperately when she felt the cool air on her backside and the heat of the skin from Cantos’s erection as he lined it up with her untouched entrance. Her nails dug into the dirt as she desperately tried to crawl away and escape the horror of being raped.
“Damn, you’re tight,” Cantos muttered breathlessly, starting to press into her. “I suppose that’s what happens when you’re not the favored whore, huh?”
“No, please don’t,” Namoriee begged frantically around her sob, thrashing violently. “Please!”
“Feel free to scream. No one will save you,” Cantos hissed viciously into her ear before he pushed forward. Namoriee shrieked at the unwilling stretch as his head pushed inside her.
He pushed his weight into her more, his hips trying to work against the resistance while at the same time trying to contain her. The pain was quickly becoming unbearable. Her cheeks and lips were slick with her tears and saliva. Dirt left a bitter taste in her mouth as it mingled with her tears. All she could think about was how her innocence that she spent years protecting would be taken away from her so ruthlessly.