by Nicole René
“I deserved to know!” Leawyn screamed back at him furiously. “It was my baby!”
Xavier and Leawyn seemed to have forgotten that they weren’t alone in the room. Tyronian could feel Namoriee shaking in his arms, her fear for her friend evident. He could do nothing but hold her against him tighter as they watched the spectacle play out in front of them.
They were both no stranger to Leawyn and Xavier’s fighting; the couple’s love was as volatile and explosive as a volcano. Their pattern was simple: they fought explosively, then made up by taking their residual anger out on each other’s bodies.
But this time . . . Tyronian wasn’t quite sure if that would work. There was a difference in the air, and Tyronian was worried about what this might mean for Namoriee.
He didn’t think his cousin would appreciate that she broke her vow of silence—even if she was Tyronian’s wife.
“You deserve to be taken over my knee and spanked for your insolence.”
“That won’t change anything,” Leawyn sneered.
“You’re mine to do with as I wish.” Xavier slid her wrists up higher on the wall. “That won’t ever change.”
“You lied to me,” Leawyn choked out quietly, blinking against her tears. “After the war, you said there were no more secrets between us. That we were going to start over. I believed you, and you lied to me. You haven’t changed, and I was a fool to trust you.”
The atmosphere thickened almost unbearably after Leawyn’s remark, and protective awareness started slithering down Tyronian’s spine, making him tense.
“Everybody out,” Xavier ordered in an ominous tone, his eyes never wavering from their war with Leawyn’s. Tyronian wasted no time and started to lead Namoriee away with one hand on her lower back and the other around her elbow, ushering her resisting form to the door.
“No, wait!” Namoriee cried helplessly. “Please don’t punish her. It was me, all me. You can punish me!”
“Shut up, Namoriee,” Tyronian gritted out behind clenched teeth, tightening his grip on her.
Angry eyes shot over to them. “Control your woman, or I’ll do it for you,” Xavier threatened malevolently.
Over my dead body, Tyronian thought. But nonetheless . . .
Namoriee screeched when he lifted her up with one arm wrapped around her waist and hauled her thrashing form the rest of the way out.
“Stop it!” he growled once the door slammed shut behind them.
“How can you just leave them!” Namoriee yelled, still wiggling in his grp. “Xavier, he—”
“He won’t hurt her, not in her condition.”
As if to prove him wrong, a crash sounded behind them, followed by Leawyn’s yelp and the distinct sound of a palm meeting bare skin.
“Much,” he amended.
Namoriee was pale as his long legs quickly ate up the distance while he carried her away.
“This is all my fault,” Namoriee whimpered woefully. “I shouldn’t have told her.”
“You are right, you shouldn’t have,” he agreed crossly. “I’ll be sure to spank you later for it.” He looked down at her when she stiffened.
“Relax, I’ll make sure you’ll enjoy part of it, as reluctant as you’ll be. Much how Leawyn probably is right now.” His grin was as smug as it was lecherous.
“You’re despicable.”
“I know. It keeps me up at night.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you.” Namoriee crossed her arms over her chest stubbornly. “You can’t make me. Besides, Leawyn needs me here.”
“You seem to think that you have a choice.” Tyronian grinned.
They were arguing in their hut after he’d told her to pack a bag, that they’d be leaving shortly on a seven-day trip.
To say she took it well was an understatement.
It had been weeks since the altercation with Xavier and Leawyn. Though their relationship with each other was less strained, things had been tense between them and Xavier. Which was why Tyronian wanted to take Namoriee away for a bit.
He could see that she still held guilt for the punishment that Leawyn had received from her husband, no matter how many times he tried to tell her that Xavier would have found some other reason to punish her anyways. Besides, Leawyn enjoyed the punishments almost as much as Xavier enjoyed delivering them. Not that Tyronian was judging his cousin’s sex life or anything. He was starting to see the merit in spanking naughty wives.
“Namoriee,” Tyronian interrupted her mid-rant. “You’re going to pack a bag, and you’re going to do it now. This wasn’t a debate; I wasn’t asking you for your permission. It was an order.”
Namoriee’s eyes narrowed, and the spark of defiance that Tyronian loved so much flashed in her eyes. Her lips curled up into a sneer of stubbornness and female indignation.
“No.”
“No?” he parroted.
“No,” Namoriee repeated, taking a step back when he started a slow prowl towards her. “You can’t just come in here, with all your handsome, and order me about. You just can’t! Husband or not, I’m my own person, Tyronian! I get to decide if I’m going to go on a trip, or if I’m going to pack a bag, or . . . or anything else for that matter!”
“ . . . You think I’m handsome?” He grinned as he backed her up against the wall.
Namoriee huffed and rolled her eyes. “That’s all you heard out of that entire speech?” She craned her head back to look up at him.
“I heard the only thing that matters,” he assured, trailing a finger down the side of her face.
Her breath hitched. “Oh?”
Tyronian hummed. She whimpered when his lips caught her earlobe, nibbling on it. “I heard you say ‘no’ to me.”
“T-That’s the only thing that mattered?” She shivered when his hand reached up and deftly untied the strings holding her dress together. The action caused her erratic breathing to double, making her breasts heave with each inhale and exhale.
“Oh . . .” she moaned softly when he rolled her nipple around with his fingers once her breasts spilled free; plucking them until they became hard, needy buds.
He snaked his arm around her and gripped her hip, making sure his beard scraped against her skin when he whispered in her ear, “Don’t ever tell me no, Namoriee. It makes me want to make you scream ‘yes.’”
He pulled her flush against him, and she gasped when he lifted her clear off the ground, forcing her to wrap her legs around him while he effortlessly carried her to bed. Her back landed on the pallets, and she bounced once before he was on top of her. The sound of fabric ripping made her yelp.
“I hate you in clothes,” Tyronian muttered, ripping her underskirts. “I hate when your body is hidden from me. I want to lock you up and keep you naked as a prisoner in my bed.”
He pulled at the fabric again until, finally, she was completely bare to his gaze. Her back bowed at the feel of his hands running up the sides of her body. He bent, taking her breast into his mouth.
“Ah!” she gasped when his teeth clamped onto the hardened bud and pulled, just enough to give that flash of pain before his wet tongue soothed the ache away. He alternated his attention to each breast, suckling and biting them.
“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do this?” Tyronian mumbled between the kisses he started to trail down her sternum. “How long I’ve been wanting to taste your wetness?” He continued to kiss down her body until he hovered over her sex, peeling back her slick lips with his fingers.
“I’ve been a thirsty man, Namoriee. I think it’s time I finally get hydrated, so feel free to soak my tongue as much as you want.” And with that, he took her into his mouth, shoving his tongue into her tight, greedy hole hard enough for her to cry out at the sensation.
He consumed her with his mouth. Her broken moans turned him on more. Her breath quickened, her hips raising to his mouth. The grip she had on his hair became almost unbearable, but he wouldn’t tell her to let go.
He refused to stop, to take it easy
on her.
He wanted his name to leave her lips in a scream, to imprint himself on her like she’d imprinted herself on his soul.
He wouldn’t stop.
He refused to stop, not until she accepted the truth.
He owned her body.
He owned her release.
And soon . . . he was going to own her heart, too.
Tyronian ended up having to carry her onto his horse, Jidu. Even after she was exhausted from finding release, courtesy of his tongue, she refused to go with him. Her meager strength was nothing compared to his mountain of a body. The man was just too strong; he could manhandle her more easily than she liked to admit. And he seemed to be very fond of doing it.
So now she sat (quite grumpily) between Tyronian’s thighs as he steered his horse with ease. The stallion quickly ate up the distance between their tribe and wherever they were going.
“You still ignoring me?” Tyronian asked from behind her as he slowed Jidu to a walk.
She ignored him. He chuckled.
“You can’t ignore me forever, sweet,” he whispered in her ear. Considering how she’d been snubbing him for the three days they’d been traveling, she highly doubted that.
Scowling at him, she jerked her head away while simultaneously overlooking the charming grin on his face.
“Suite yourself.”
He hopped off his horse so suddenly that Namoriee, losing the support his chest had for her back, became unbalanced. She squealed when she toppled sideways, off the horse, and straight into Tyronian’s waiting arms.
“Tyronian!” she yelled when he started to cart her off into the trees. Jidu following dutifully behind after Tyronian tied up his reins.
“She speaks!”
“This isn’t funny, put me down!”
“No.”
He continued to carry her deeper into the dense foliage despite her attempts to get free. Soon, the sound of water met her ears, and she looked to her right to see a rivulet.
“This creek eventually connects to the waterway that runs through the Izayges.”
Of course, Samaria had many rivers, as would be expected from the land all the tribes hailed from, which was bordered by the sea on each side.
The landscape was rich with rolling green hills and trees, but there were parts that were dry and withered. Not that Namoriee traveled much. Most of the traveling she’d experienced was when she was with Aggod while visiting the other tribes.
He deposited her on top of a boulder that was perpendicular to the creek. When he led Jidu to the creek, Namoriee took a moment to look at her surroundings. They weren’t completely shielded by the forest, but some overgrown trees created a canopy over their heads, and that was enough to give them bouts of shade from the blaring sun. The creek itself was wide enough to separate the banks, but looked shallow enough that they could travel across on horseback.
Tyronian threw a large saddlebag on the ground, bringing her attention back to him. He rummaged through it.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m setting up camp.”
“Why?”
He paused to look at her, his brow cocked. “What are camps for, Namoriee?”
“I mean why are you building camp here?”
“Because we’re setting up camp here. See what ignoring me does? Your mind just can’t focus without my undying attention.”
She rolled her eyes, turning her back to him.
He laughed at her, the bastard.
Night came with a chill cold enough to be grateful for the fire. After Tyronian made camp, he’d gone into the creek and caught them dinner. They had finished the fish a little bit ago, and now Namoriee was staring sightlessly into the flames. Crickets, trickling water, and the soft pops of wood as it burned created the symphony of nightfall.
It was comforting to her.
She peeked at the man across from her. The fire made his dirty-blond hair flash with copper, and the shadows encompassing the side of his face made the soft, round angles look sharp and cutting. The close-cut beard that he usually kept was growing out, becoming fuller from three days of growth. His lips would have been completely flat if not for the bottom one, which had just the right amount of plumpness to make them look delectable.
They were lethal, able to make women—including her—swoon when they pulled back over his teeth in a smile.
But what was most lethal about his mouth was the certain skill he harbored.
She had heard from various women that they were expected to take the man’s member into their mouths, pleasuring them with their throat and tongue. Some had even recalled how their throat had flared with sickness days after they did it. But never once had they mentioned that the men they lay with returned the favor. Yet . . . Tyronian had done it to her more than once.
And she enjoyed it.
Namoriee swallowed, her throat parched as she shifted uncomfortably against the wetness that gathered between her thighs.
What is wrong with you? Namoriee scolded herself. She shouldn’t think thoughts like these. She shouldn’t wonder when he would lie with her next, or when he would use his mouth on her. She shouldn’t want him to, but more importantly . . . she shouldn’t be adapting to her marriage this quickly.
“I know what you’re doing.”
Tyronian’s voice broke through the night so suddenly, it startled her. “W-What?”
He finished securing the rope attached to the sack of food that was hanging high in the tree before making his way to her.
“I know that you’re trying to distance yourself from me,” he told her, settling across from her. His gaze was as heated as the fire separating them. “It won’t work.”
She looked away, refusing to acknowledge the truth in his words.
“Why won’t you give us a chance? Have I been so horrible to you that you rebel at the thought?”
She stared out into the darkness, remaining silent. She knew if she turned to look at him again, she would see the same hurt in his eyes that she heard in his voice, and she couldn’t handle it.
His stare was heady; she could feel it with the same certainty of the blanket around her shoulders. The silence stretched on between them, then she heard him sigh.
“Sooner or later you’ll learn that I’m not a monster, Namoriee.”
Could a man be monstrous if you only saw his sweet side?
Men like Xavier and Tristan, they were monstrous. You could tell by looking them in the eyes, their demons unleashed and out in the open. She never considered Tyronian a monster, and that was the problem.
“I never thought you were a monster,” she whispered, catching his gaze. “I could never think that; you’re too good.”
“I’m not good, Namoriee. I’ve done terrible things.”
She shook her head, denying the truth he tried to confess. “You might have done horrible things, but that doesn’t ch-ch-change the goodness in y-you. You d-deserve someone whose worth rivals yours. You deserve someone like Leawyn, someone who is strong and fearless and worthy. Not a girl terrified of her own shadow.”
“You don’t think I have that already?” he demanded, eyes flaring with emotion. Namoriee shook her head, growing misty-eyed.
“How could you?” she whispered. “I’m no one, Tyronian. You could be chief someday—of two tribes, no less! I dishonor you. You dishonored yourself. I’m weak. The sooner you realize that, the b-better.”
He didn’t reply right away, but instead studied her with an intensity that made Namoriee shift uncomfortably.
“I remember the first time I laid eyes on you.”
Out of all the things Namoriee expected him to say, that was not one of them.
“I don’t expect you to remember; you were only three.” He turned his gaze yonder, a faraway look on his face. “I was fourteen. I was in the woods and had just finished bedding a woman for the very first time.”
Namoriee’s nose scrunched in disgust.
“I suddenly heard crying, loud en
ough for me to leave to investigate.” He turned back to her with a soft smile. “It was you.”
“Me?”
“You were so little,” Tyronian said quietly, his eyes focused over her shoulder. “You were dirty and cold; I don’t know how long you were out there alone, but it was long enough.”
“W-What happened?” Namoriee prompted quietly when he didn’t continue.
“You turned around. Suddenly, the solid ground I stood on crumbled. I picked you up, and I carried you home.”
He turned to look at her then, glazed eyes turning as fierce as she’d ever seen them. It made the hair on her body stand on end and stole her breath. The air around them shifted, coiled, and then grew still.
It was in that moment that Namoriee knew whatever Tyronian said next was going to be important. Some piece of wisdom that the cosmos came alive for in its deliverance.
“I have watched you persevere even as the people of this tribe have tried to cripple you as much as your halting speech has. I’ve watched life burden you in your existence, but still you walked with your head held high. You’re not weak. You’re more than you give yourself credit for, and it’s not you who is undeserving, but me.”
Their gaze stayed locked as he came to crouch in front of her.
“We all have choices to make in life, we all have struggles. You’re wavering on ground that is crumbling, and I’m offering my hand to steady you. But you’re choosing to fall instead.”
“I don’t understand w-w-what you want from m-me,” Namoriee said, tears of frustration gathering in her eyes.
“I want you to stand!” he snapped. “I want you to stop hiding. I want you to stop feeling sorry for yourself. I want you to be the brave woman who raced to warn the Izayges of an attack. Who stood up to the chief because you didn’t want your friend to be hurt. I want you to give me a chance!”
Namoriee inhaled sharply, shocked. She looked down, not able to meet his eyes. His index finger urged her chin up.
“You think that I just decided to marry you because I’ve wanted you all this time?” he demanded. “Well, you’re right. I do want you, but the thing you don’t understand is that I’ve always wanted you. You were mine since the very first moment I decided that the only time I could handle seeing tears in your eyes was when they are tears of happiness.”
