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

by Nicole René

  Kid had guts.

  “Little bastard,” Tyronian muttered wryly. His humor was short-lived, however, because he was reminded of just why Torrick had felt the need to barge in his hut. Someone had hurt Namoriee, and that made him livid, but it was the fact that he was not the first person to know about it that really made his blood boil.

  He had told Namoriee, repeatedly, that he would look after her. Protect her. Yet, when she’s in danger or when someone hurt her, she felt no need to come find him. Tyronian was an easygoing man, and he knew that his Namoriee was like a newborn deer; skittish and unwilling to trust, which was exactly why Tyronian handled her so delicately. But with these events, Namoriee needed to learn a viable lesson.

  By the time he reached Leawyn’s hut (where he knew Namoriee was because she was too stubborn not to fulfill her duties), he had talked himself into such a state that he was fuming. The door slammed against the wall as he stalked through, his entire point of focus on the petite form that was Namoriee. She jumped up from Leawyn’s bed and backed away from him. He completely ignored the hand that was meant to ward him off and hefted her up and brought her close to his face.

  “You will show me who did this to you, and you will do it now.”

  “Tyronian…” he heard Leawyn say to him warningly as she came to stand beside him. He didn’t bother sparing her a glance. “This does not concern you cousin.”

  Namoriee’s eyes flickered over his shoulders, which wasn’t acceptable to him. He jolted her, bringing her attention back to him.

  “Show me, and after, we’ll have a nice long talk about why I had to hear about your attack from a fellow warrior and was not notified by you personally.” Technically, Tyronian didn’t know if Torrick was in fact a warrior, but that was beside the point.

  “What happens to me is not your concern,” Namoriee said, glaring at him mutinously.

  “You are mine, Namoriee,” he said and Namoriee’s moment of strong will disappeared into uncertainty at his predatory tone. “Everything that happens to you is my concern.”

  Namoriee’s struggles renewed when he swung her around in his arms and stalked back to the door.

  “Where are you taking her?” Leawyn’s asked, floored.

  “Namoriee has someone to show me, and then she’s going back with me to my hut. Don’t expect her again today.”

  “No!” Namoriee shouted right as Tyronian shut the door. He ignored her struggles as he carried her away.

  It was time for Namoriee to learn what happens to bad little girls.

  “Where are we going?” Namoriee cried, still fruitlessly trying to free herself. His grip was tight and strong, and unyielding. She huffed a frustrated breath. This was useless, and they were starting to attract attention that she didn’t want.

  “Tyronian, put me down!” Namoriee hissed, continuing in her struggles.

  His answer was to just chuckle darkly at her, “Why would I want to do that? So, you can run away again? Not happening, my sweet.”

  “I won’t!”

  She totally would.

  More and more people stopped to stare at them as they past, all with looks varying from amusement and disapproval. The worst, in Namoriee's opinion, were the looks the warriors were shooting her way. Pointing and laughing with that heated, knowing look in their eyes that made her uncomfortable and panicky.

  “Stop calling me that! I’m not your sweet, I’m not your property! I never will be. You have no right to manhandle me like this so Put. Me. Down!”

  Abruptly, Tyronian changed directions, storming into the first hut he came across. “Out!” He barked at someone, and Namoriee lifted her head to see Tristan, a slow grin forming on his face.

  “Did someone misbehave?” Tristan asked, amusement heavy in his voice.

  Oh Goddess, did he really just say that? Namoriee thought, feeling her face flush in mortification.

  “Out.” Tyronian repeated, his voice a growl.

  Tristan took his time standing up from the table that he was sitting at, calling over his shoulder as he made his way to the door.

  “Don’t leave a mess.”

  No sooner than the door shutting did Namoriee find herself spun around with her back pressed against the wall. Tyronian’s eyes were blazing when they stared into hers. She squeaked when he grasped her thighs and hauled her up so that her mouth was level with his when he leaned forward, his pelvis pressing against her

  “What—"

  His lips slammed down onto hers. It was rough, demanding, and so unbelievably possessive that it knocked the breath out of her. This kiss was ownership. He was marking her as his, and damned if she said so otherwise.

  His teeth nipped her bottom lip, and she gasped at the short sting of pain, which he used to his advantage to push his tongue into her mouth to play with his own.

  “I’m getting a little tired of repeating myself, but seeing as you need yet another reminder, I guess I’ll tell you again,” Tyronian said when he pulled away, reaching up to tangle his fist in her hair and tilt her head back.

  “You. Are. Mine,” he said slowly, possessively. “Everything about you is my responsibility, Namoriee, everything. Which means that if something happens to you—I need to know about it. You’re mine to protect.”

  Namoriee shook her head in denial. “You said— “

  “I said I would wait until you’re older, which I will,” he interrupted, and she whimpered when he pressed his body into hers more. She could feel him against her most intimate place, the flimsy fabric of her dress doing nothing to protect her from the heat of him. Unlike with Cantos, she didn’t feel terror when Tyronian forced her body to make contact with his suggestively.

  "Just because I’m waiting for you, doesn’t change the fact you’re mine. Your body, your wellbeing, and eventually, your heart is for me to own. Everyone accepts it, but you. Why?”

  “You took my first kiss,” Namoriee whispered in lieu of answering, dazed.

  He let go of her hair long enough to tuck a stray strand behind her ear, his eyes on her mouth as he trailed his hand down to trace her lips that were swollen from his kiss.

  “I’m going to take your first everything, Namoriee,” he told her huskily, even if he said the words with gentleness.

  He met her eyes again, and Namoriee's heart seized at the heat in the gaze. His blue eyes were liquid fire, scorching every part of her. “You have two winters,” he told her, “then you’re mine. Officially.”

  “So, I’m just supposed to be your whore until you bore of me?” Namoriee said snidely, pointedly ignoring the tear that trailed down her cheek.

  “No, Namoriee,” he said softly, wiping said tear away with his thumb gently, “you’re too precious for that.”

  She shuddered when he gently thrust his hips up, pressing his erection against her core and bringing the fire inside her to life with the slow buildup of pleasure.

  “I’ll never bore of you,” he assured, trailing a hand down Namoriee's side and to her leg, pulling her dress up slowly, exposing her thighs inch by inch. She gasped in shock when she felt his fingers brush against her naked thigh, a trail of fire following as he moved his fingers up, until they were hovering there.

  “I owe you a reminder. Maybe this way you’ll learn better. I might be waiting for you Namoriee, but that doesn’t mean I can’t take a few of your firsts now.”

  He bent, rubbing his nose against her neck so that she had to tilt her head back, inhaling deep. Namoriee shuddered when he nipped her ear, swirling his tongue inside. She arched her back at the sensation, barely catching his words.

  “You’re mine, Namoriee.”

  He brushed his thumb against her main point of pleasure, right when he pushed one, thick finger inside of her. She braced herself, waiting for the exact pain that Cantos caused, but it never came. He wasn’t deep, barely an inch in, but her body wasn’t used to the intrusion and still tender. Namoriee moaned with him at the stretch, her hips arching up as he started a slow tempo, push
ing his finger in and out of her gently, so gently, while his thumb kept a constant pressure against her where she was the most sensitive.

  “You’re so wet and so smooth. I can’t wait to claim you. To feel you wrapped around my cock, squeezing tight around me as I take you. I’m gonna consume you, Namoriee.”

  She moaned at his dirty words that both scared and excited her. She clawed his shoulders as he rested his cheek against hers, his heavy, excited breathing blowing into her ear.

  “You’re so tight,” he groaned, “I can feel your body fighting against me. But I will prevail, because this body is mine, and I’m going to watch your eyes cloud over in pleasure. Feel your muscles tightening as I make you find release. I want to feel your sweet cream slide over my fingers. Just so I can taste you. I want that first Namoriee, and you’re going to give it me.”

  Namoriee had no idea what he was talking about, but at that moment she didn’t care because that was the exact moment that he pushed just a little bit deeper, curling his finger and pressing his thumb hard against her clitoris in rapid succession. It all became a blur after that. All Namoriee felt was a continuous amount of pleasure.

  It was shooting from her most intimate of places, and the feeling of his finger moving inside her was too much. Before she knew what was happening, the fire that was building inside of her like an inferno exploded, and she was lost in the heat. Namoriee cried out as her body seized, going stiff as stars exploded behind her eyes.

  "That’s it my sweet. That’s a good girl,” he groaned in Namoriee's ear as her internal muscles clenched around his fingers.

  She was still shuddering from the aftershocks of whatever that was when she opened her eyes. They widened when he held his hand up, the white substance on the digits made them glistened as he brought his fingers to his mouth.

  “Don’t—” she protested weakly, but it was too late. He kept eye contact when he brought his fingers inside of his mouth, licking them clean.

  “Beautiful,” he murmured when he was done. Namoriee should be disgusted, but the sight was so erotic, that she wasn’t. It embarrassed her, because she felt another pool of arousal at her center.

  She looked down to see the same white stuff that was on his fingers trailing down her inner thighs slowly. She gulped, looking back up. She felt another rush of embarrassment when she saw that his eyes were following the same trail. His blue eyes were smoldering when he looked back up at her.

  “Looks like I need to clean you up.” He sounded pleased.

  Namoriee didn’t know what to say, so she stayed silent and instead just nodded her head meekly in agreement. His eyes flashed, and he grinned naughtily at her. It was the only warning Namoriee had before she found herself once again airborne as he carried her, laying her on her back on Tristan’s bed.

  “Tyronian, don’t. This is Tristan’s hut...”

  “Sush, Namoriee,” he ordered, and Namoriee's eyes widened when he jerked her legs apart so that he can settle between them. “I need to clean you up.” He grinned cheekily at her, then he bent, nestling his head between her thighs and did exactly what he said he would do. He cleaned her up.

  With his tongue.

  Tyronian sat and stared at the sprawled form of Namoriee as she slept peacefully in his bed. Her hair was wild, and he could see the lingering dampness along her hairline from her sweat, and her cheeks were a rosy red in color...well, one of them was.

  He scanned the left side of her face, and his mood darkened as it always did when he gazed upon the massive bruising and black eye. Rage filled his veins, the need to kill flowing strongly. Someone had attacked what was his. Fists had marred her perfect bronze complexion, tarnishing something beautiful. Tyronian could admit that he lost himself a bit. He was so consumed with his need for her, and his worry and anger, that he couldn't focus on more than having a taste of her and making her moan his name. Of making her realize, at least for a little bit, that she belonged to him, and it was his job to protect her. A job that he failed at.

  The door opened softly, and Tristan poked his head in. His eyes landed on Namoriee, and a look passed over his face briefly, before he brought his gaze to Tyronian. He motioned outside with his chin then disappeared behind the door as quietly as he appeared. Tyronian frowned but stood and followed Tristan outside. He checked to make sure Namoriee was still sleeping before he closed the door and turned his attention to his cousin.

  * * *

  “Did you find out who attacked her?”

  * * *

  Tyronian stilled, thrown off at the question. “No,” he eyed Tristan suspiciously. “Not yet.”

  * * *

  “You need to be smart about this. You can’t just go and kill him, not after we just got the chiefs to agree to fight with us.”

  * * *

  Was he really telling him to wait? Tyronian thought to himself in disbelief. “Someone touched what’s mine. I’m not just going to let it go. The fact that you’re asking me to makes me want to punch you more than usual.”

  * * *

  The corner of Tristan’s lips lifted, as if he wanted to smile, but didn’t. His eyes, however, reflected the cool calmness to which he was known for.

  * * *

  “You know who it is,” Tyronian accused. He took a threatening step forward. “Who? Tell me!”

  * * *

  “I’m not telling you can’t retaliate,” Tristan replied, completing ignoring his demand. “I’m telling you to be smart. I know it’s a hard concept for you.” Tyronian scowled at him.

  * * *

  “I’ll have you know that I’m the smartest one in the family. You and Xavier might as well be as dense as rocks.” It was untrue, of course. In all actuality, Xavier was probably the smartest one out of them all…. well, usually. Leawyn kind of brought his thinking ability to a standstill lately.

  * * *

  But Tyronian was prettier, which he told Tristan.

  * * *

  “My point is” Tristan said, clearly exasperated, “wait for the right time to strike.”

  * * *

  “And when might that be?” Tyronian didn’t want to wait. “She’s my woman Tristan. You can’t just keep her attacker’s identity a secret!”

  * * *

  When Tristan continued to hold his silence, Tyronian grabbed him and jerked him forward. “Tell me who it is!”

  * * *

  Tristan didn’t even flinch. “The warrior choosing coming up soon,” Tristan pointed out, and Tyronian knew where he was going with that. “You can challenge him there.”

  * * *

  Every five winters, the warrior choosing happens. It was when all the tribes of the Samaria come to a specific location and participate in games of battle with each other. It was designed as a way for the young men in the tribes to be selected to train as a warrior. It also gave the seasoned warriors like himself to challenge a warrior from a different tribe. The challenge was not made lightly, however, for to do so means that they fight to the death. If Tyronian were to challenge Namoriee’s attacker, his actions would be pardoned by the chiefs when he wins.

  * * *

  It was actually quite brilliant. But that didn’t change the fact that Tristan betrayed him.

  * * *

  “Why won’t you tell me?” he asked seriously. “Are we not like brothers?”

  * * *

  Something in Tristan’s expression changed, but before Tyronian could try to decipher it, it was gone.

  * * *

  “Challenge, and Namoriee will be forced to reveal who it is.”

  * * *

  “Fine,” Tyronian sighed, releasing Tristan. Clearly, he wasn’t going to get anything out of him. For whatever reason, Tristan had taken a vow of silence. He had to believe he had a good reason for it.

  * * *

  “I’ll wait until then. But I don’t like it,” Tyronian grouched, pointing a finger at Tristan.

  * * *

  “You’re making the right choice cousin.” Tr
istan said, chuckling when Tyronian just mumbled incoherently under his breath at him.

  * * *

  “Oh, one more thing,” Tyronian called, clapping Tristan on the shoulder to stop him when he went to walk away. He lashed a quick uppercut into Tristan's stomach, hard, making him double over in pain.

  * * *

  “That’s for not telling me,” Tyronian told him, before he punched him again. Tristan fell to one knee, holding his side, gasping for breath. “That’s to ensure it never happens again.” He winked, patting Tristan’s back—hard—as he stepped around him and went back inside his hut.

  She wasn’t sure what woke her. Her eyes slowly peeled open, and she had a moment of panic when she didn’t recognize the room she was in before the fog lifted, and she remembered. Cantos. Her attack. Tyronian finding out…

  * * *

  She felt warm, it wasn’t just from the memory of what Tyronian had done to her body with his tongue. She glanced down at the arm draped over her waist, anchoring her to the hard chest that pressed against her back. Tyronian.

  * * *

  They had left Tristan’s hut (more like he had manhandled her again) after he had taken another of her first by using his tongue on her. She flushed at the memory. He had looked carnivorous, devouring her as if his life depended on it. The way he wouldn’t let up, bringing her release repeatedly with just the flick of his tongue…it was unlike anything she had ever experienced. It had felt good, amazing in fact. She never thought that she would experience pleasure from a man again without thinking about Cantos.