How the Warrior Claimed (Falling Warriors Book 2)

by Nicole René

  His hand had started to creep up her neck as he talked until he was cupping her throat. He squeezed it with the slightest of pressure. His hold was possessive, with the veiled threat that he could easily snap her neck with minimal effort if he wanted.

  Dipping down, he murmured in her ear, “I can be him, if you want. I’ll hurt you. I’ll train you the way he did Leawyn, make you crave my pain almost as much as you’ll crave my cock.”

  He firmed his grip and pressed into her until she felt the bulge in his breeches as he grated against her. “I’ll be your husband and master, and you’ll become my favorite of toys.”

  She started to fight him then.

  “Isn’t this what you want, my sweet?” he shouted, squeezing her throat more. She bit his ear then, and he jerked away from her with a curse, his hand moving to cover it.

  He caught her wrists in his hand when she went to slap him, hauling her against him roughly.

  “You can bite me, hit me—do whatever you need to do to convince yourself that you need to hate me, but I am never going to give up, and I’m never going to stop.”

  Namoriee shook her head; she was a blubbering mess as he walked them backwards with each word.

  “Not until you feel even the slightest bit of what I feel for you—and even then, it won’t nearly be enough.”

  The back of her knees hit the empty bed at the exact moment he slammed his lips on top of hers. She whimpered at the contact. Their teeth clinked together, and he gripped her hair tight enough for her scalp to burn.

  His kiss was demanding. Rough. Possessive.

  He yanked her head back at an angle that made her neck strain, enabling him to dominate the kiss even further. He nipped her lips, the pain making her gasp, and his tongue slid against hers in harsh movements, expressing his anger at her with each slide. His grip loosened a fraction, and she found herself suddenly spun around and bent at the waist. His grip was tight enough to bruise as he pushed her down until her face was flush with the blankets, forcing her to turn her head so that she could breath.

  “You drive me insane, Namoriee,” Tyronian rasped. “You keep pushing me, tempting me to teach you a lesson.” She whimpered when she felt her dress flip, exposing her bottom.

  “I think it’s about time you learn what happens to naughty little girls.”

  The first slap made her cry out in surprise. The second was more forceful, and made her jolt. The third stung, and she couldn’t help but reach back. But he caught her hands and held them against her back before she could attempt to cover her backside.

  Smack!

  Smack!

  The smacks varied in strength as his palm rained down on her until her ass was stinging and she was sure it was red. She cried out when he delivered another, harder than the rest. His hand smoothed over the cheeks, prolonging the sting before sliding lower.

  “You’re dripping,” Tyronian groaned in delight as he pushed a finger inside of her. Her breath escaped her in a sigh, pleasure whipping through her nerve-endings as he pumped his fingers inside her. Her climax was just within reach when he stopped, effectively trapping it inside her.

  “I didn’t give you permission for that yet,” Tyronian growled in answer to her petulant cry. Namoriee stilled when she heard his belt clinking and fabric pooling on the floor.

  There was no preamble. No warning. Just the sure thrust of his hips and the stretch of her inner walls as he filled her.

  “Ah!”

  “Your cunt is so damn tight,” Tyronian groaned in ecstasy. “You feel so good wrapped around me. I’m gonna take you hard, and fast, Namoriee. Up until this point I’ve been gentle with you, but that ends tonight. I should be sorry, but I’m not.”

  His chest met her back as he nipped her ear, then the juncture of her neck. “Get ready for the ride of your life.”

  He pulled back, fingers digging into her hips and scalp, and surged inside of her again, filling her to the brim. Namoriee cried out, her body stiff from the zing of pain/pleasure.

  “That’s it, scream for me. Let everyone know who you belong to.” He was impossibly deep; she could feel herself stretching around him to try and accommodate the entirety of his girth.

  “Tyronian!” Namoriee mewled weakly, bucking beneath him.

  He set a crazy pace, and the sound of his thighs slapping against her flesh echoed around them in rapid succession. Her moans were partly drowned out by the fabric of the bed, his grip on her hair keeping her at his mercy.

  He was right. If she thought he was ever rough with her before, it was nothing compared to this. His thrusts were strong and fast. The force of them pushed her face deeper and deeper into the mattress, causing her cunt to flare with both pleasure and soreness at the treatment it was so unused to.

  He kept her powerless as the myriad of sensations overwhelmed her.

  “I love the feel of you squeezing around me. It clings to my cock as if begging it not to leave.” His voice was thick with lust, and the filthy words ignited her insides.

  Namoriee’s moan was broken as her first orgasm rippled through her. Tyronian didn’t slow. His grip changed in her locks, and Namoriee gasped when he pulled, forcing her to arch her back.

  “Gods,” she yelped. “Please!”

  “The gods won’t save you from me, sweet girl,” he chuckled darkly. “You’re mine.”

  The second orgasm made her breathless. The third had her body slumping. By the fourth, she was so over-sensitized that she begged him to have mercy on her.

  “I can’t, Tyronian. I can’t!” Namoriee whimpered against the familiar swirl of fiery pleasure illuminating from deep within. She couldn’t take another orgasm. Not like this.

  “You will for me,” he grunted. “I’m not giving you a choice. Everything about you is mine, Namoriee. You’re my property, which means I can use you however I see fit, regardless of how sore your sweet snatch gets. Because that’s mine, too. I own it. And I can do whatever I please with it.”

  Namoriee closed her eyes. She was sore, yet with each stroke of his shaft, she was lashed with pleasure that seemed to coexist with the pain. She felt his weight against her back, and he snaked an arm underneath her, holding her close. He whispered praises in her ear, even as he continued to pound into her with brutal intensity.

  He whispered how good she felt around him, how tight and warm she felt. How he wished he could stay buried inside of her forever. She was helpless against him. And when he demanded her to tell him how much she wanted him, to admit that she was his . . . that she belonged to him, she could do nothing but agree.

  Because right then, in that moment, she was so strung out with ecstasy that she couldn’t hide the truth.

  “I’m yours,” she whispered throatily.

  She shuddered when his paced changed, opting to plunge inside of her with long, slow strokes instead of the thunderous pounds he was delivering before. He took his time pulling in and out of her body, his lips raining wet, openmouthed kisses down her neck and back, contradictory to the tempo of his hips. He was rewarding her for her confession.

  It didn’t take her long to start to climax this way.

  “Please,” Namoriee gasped, feeling the swirl of pleasure growing. She could feel herself start to tighten, making her feel even more full with him inside her. Her body became taut like a bowstring, and her spine tingled.

  “Please, I want . . . I need . . .” She trailed off, shaking with her effort to hold off. The fact that she was waiting for his permission irritated her beyond belief, but she didn’t want to risk losing this.

  “Let go, Namoriee. Soak me with your release. I want to feel you.”

  His permission was all she needed. Her orgasm swept through her like a tornado, whipping through her from the inside out.

  “Tyronian!”

  The force of it brought tears to her eyes, and her body convulsed violently. She slumped, but Tyronian carried her weight and kept her body in position as he chased his own release. Finally, after what seemed l
ike ages, she felt him stiffen. He pumped into her a few more times before he stilled, burying his face into her neck to muffle his groan against her skin. He flooded her with his come until she felt it dripping down her thighs.

  Tyronian collapsed on top of Namoriee. He held her tightly as her body quaked with the aftershocks of what he’d put it through. Their breaths were ragged and filled the room. He pulled back, resting his forehead on her back and catching his breath. Gods, she felt so good. He wanted to take her again, but he knew he should let her body regroup.

  She whimpered in protest when he slid out of her, which just made him want to slide back inside her heat. He felt an insane amount of satisfaction when he caught sight of his release mixing with hers as it slid down her inner thighs.

  She flinched when he touched her gently, spreading her so that he could watch better. He didn’t tell her this, but he was glad at the amount he saw. He wanted her swollen with his child. He wanted to further bind her to him.

  He only hoped it was enough.

  Namoriee stared at the large tent in no small amount of apprehension. When she received word that her chief wanted to see her, she immediately thought the worst. Does he blame her for Leawyn’s illness?

  It was her duty to take care of her, after all. Would he send her away?

  She loved working for Leawyn, who was her only friend. And her lady chief treated her with kindness. Namoriee would be devastated if she lost her. Deciding that she couldn’t prolong whatever fate would meet her any longer, she gathered her courage, and with a shaking hand flipped open the flap of the tent and went inside.

  She was not expecting what was waiting for her.

  Tyronian watched from the sidelines as Namoriee pushed through the tent and immediately froze. His instinct was to wrap her in his arms and ensure her that everything was okay, but he could not do that.

  Not yet, at least.

  “Namoriee, do you know why you’re here?” Xavier’s deep voice broke through the silence, and Tyronian saw Namoriee jump at the suddenness of it.

  “N-n-no, C-C-Chief,” she stuttered, and he saw that her fists were clenched tightly. She had only just started to speak out last winter. It must be killing her to have to speak in front of all these men, but he knew she valued tradition as much as she valued the gods and goddesses; she would not disrespect her chief.

  “A challenge has been made to the Siraces,” Xavier told her, watching her thoughtfully. “Do you know anything about that?”

  Namoriee paled significantly, starting to openly tremble. “N-No, s-sir.”

  “Is it true that you were attacked by a Siraces warrior?” Xavier asked pointblank, his expression still impassive.

  “P-Please,” Namoriee stammered, starting to hyperventilate. “I don’t want any t-t-trouble.”

  “I don’t care what you want,” Xavier told her. “Were you or were you not attacked by a Siraces warrior?”

  Namoriee felt close to throwing up.

  Her heart was pounding, and she could hear her heavy breaths, as if she were listening through a tube. She could feel multiple pairs of eyes on her as all the men stood in a circle, surrounding her. The Siraces were studying her; their contempt was like a physical touch on her skin. She couldn’t answer Xavier. She didn’t want to.

  She was afraid to.

  “It doesn’t m-matter. I j-j-just want to—”

  “I asked you a question, Namoriee,” Xavier growled. She could tell that he was starting to lose his patience with her.

  “Y-yes,” she answered meekly, almost in a whisper. “It’s true.”

  “Why does your speech halt that way?” Yoro asked, examining her. He didn’t give her a chance to answer, however, and he directed his next question to Xavier as if she weren’t there.

  “Is her head unwell?”

  Shame and embarrassment made her cheeks hot. In that moment, the gods could have struck the ground with lighting and she would have welcomed the collapse.

  “How she speaks is of no concern to you,” Xavier bit out. He turned his attention back to her. “Is the man who attacked you in this room?”

  It was through strength of will that she did not cry, knowing what he would ask her next. She nodded with a whispered “yes.”

  “How can we trust anything she says?” Kisias interrupted Xavier, glaring at her. “She’s nothing more than a slave!”

  Xavier’s eyes cut to Kisias, his face taut. “Careful,” Xavier warned him. “Not only is she a member of my tribe, she is my wife’s handmaiden, and someone the lady chief cares for deeply. That means she is under my protection, and you will respect her,” Xavier said, shocking her. “It’s starting to sound like you’re accusing a member of my tribe of lying, which is a dangerous insult to me, and one that I will take very personally.”

  The tension in the room thickened at Xavier’s words. The Izayges warriors stood taller, their loyalty to their chief clear. Kisias scoffed but seemed to realize that he was treading dangerous water, because he said nothing more but to apologize. Xavier didn’t bother acknowledging it, and instead he turned his attention back to Namoriee and ordered her to do the very last thing she wanted to do.

  “Point him out.”

  “Pl-Please don’t m-make me,” she beseeched, hoping that they couldn’t see her trembling. “I-I don’t want any trouble. P—”

  “You dare defy your chief?” Xavier bit out savagely.

  “N-No!” Namoriee cried in alarm. “I-I would never—”

  “Then do as you’re told!” Xavier roared, finally losing his patience. “Point him out, now, or be punished for your disobedience!”

  Namoriee flinched at the volume of his voice. She didn’t want to do this, but she knew Xavier meant what he said; he would punish her for disrespecting him. Her spine straightened, and she took a deep breath, gathering her courage. She had no reason to protect Cantos; he wasn’t worth it.

  With a shaking finger that belied her outer stoicism, she pointed at the man who had been the star of her nightmares. The one who’d been staring at her with murder in his eyes since she entered the tent.

  “This is ridiculous,” Cantos spat in disgust, turning to face the assembled chiefs head on. “She is unclaimed. I have done no offense to our laws other than waste time on a whore who isn’t nearly attractive enough to be worth the trouble she caused me.”

  “This is true,” Yoro began. “If she is unclaimed, no laws were broken.”

  “But she is claimed,” Xavier told them all with a hint of smugness.

  “By who?”

  “Your challenger,” Xavier said, pointing over his shoulder to where Tyronian stepped out from the crowd and up to Cantos.

  “I’m going to enjoy relieving your neck the burden of carrying your useless head,” Tyronian told Cantos menacingly.

  “That won’t happen,” Cantos snarled back, going chest to chest with the bigger male. “Because I’m going to kill you before your stroke falls.”

  Tyronian’s lips pulled back into a predatory smile that was as dark as it was mocking.

  “You can try.”

  Namoriee flew out of the hut like the ancient beasts were behind her the moment Xavier dismissed her.

  “Namoriee!” The voice she never wanted to hear again called out from behind her. “Namoriee, stop!”

  She didn’t.

  “Namoriee, don’t you dare walk away from me!” She heard his steps hurry, and then a shadow was upon her.

  “I said stop!”

  He gripped her wrist and yanked her around to face him. She used that momentum to send her palm flying.

  Smack!

  “Don’t touch me,” she screamed, tugging herself out of his shocked grip. A red handprint was already forming on his cheek when he turned his head back around to face her.

  “You will never touch me again!”

  “Namoriee . . .” he started to say, reaching for her.

  “No!” She pushed him away, making him stumble back half a step from his su
rprise.

  “Do you have any idea how mortifying that was for me?” she demanded, almost hysterical.

  “Namoriee, I just . . .” He tried to soothe her, reaching for her again.

  “Don’t,” she screamed at him, slapping his hands away. She sucked in a hiccupped breath, looking at him from behind eyes blurry with tears stinging with his betrayal.

  “Don’t,” she said again, voice cracking. She pointed a shaking finger at him.

  “You embarrassed me in front of all those people,” she said, fresh tears making tracks down her cheeks. “How can you do that to me? Why would you make me endure that?” she sobbed.

  Tyronian’s expression changed, and in an instant, she was in his arms, despite her thrashing.

  “Why?” he asked her, easily managing her struggles. “I did it for you!” he roared, shaking her in his grip. “I was protecting you!”

  “You did no such thing!” Namoriee screamed back, finally snapping. She wrenched herself out of his arms.

  “You did it because you were merely a dog marking his territory for everyone to see. You didn’t do it for me,” she spat hatefully. “You did it for yourself, Tyronian!”

  He reared back as if she’d slapped him again, his angry expression falling. He took a step towards her, and hurt flashed across his face when she took one back, ensuring that he couldn’t touch her.

  “Namoriee . . .” His voice was meek, almost broken.

  “I don’t ever want to see you again,” she whispered, her breath stuttering out of her.

  She bent at the waist, letting a few of the sobs she was trying to get control of out. She heard him say her name again, but it was watery and whispered. When she looked back up at him, his blue eyes were red-rimmed.

  “Just—” She cut off, grabbing her hair and clenching it in frustration. She stifled another sob as she took several steps back, her hand slashing the air in an angry jerk. “Just stay away from me!”

  Then, she did what she was good at. It was what had always protected her, and what had gotten her into this mess in the first place.