by Nicole René
Her bottom lip trembled, and her eyes were big, bright, and glossy. She was trembling just as much as he was, and he didn’t want to break the silence. He was too afraid—too hopeful—of what this might mean.
“I’m so sorry I doubted you,” she said, her voice cracking. “I’m sorry that I let you walk out of our door. I’m sorry that I acted like a spoiled child, and I’m sorry I blamed you for my flaws. I’m not worthy of you, I never was. But I’m selfish, and I fell in love with you despite all that. I’m just sorry I couldn’t admit it when you needed to hear it the most.”
She sucked in a breath, her hands hovering above his cheek like she was afraid he would shy away from her touch. She couldn’t have been more wrong.
He reached up and brought her hand to rest against his cheek, which had become bearded in her absence.
“You’re wrong,” he rumbled quietly, his voice hoarser with emotion, “about being unworthy of me.”
He tipped her chin with the crook of his finger, his lips suspended over hers.
“You’re the only thing in this life that is. I love you. But if you want to leave, this is your chance. Because I’m never letting you go again.”
“You never should have let me go to begin with. I tried to live without you, and it didn’t work. I was miserable. You’re stuck with me for—”
She didn’t finish her sentence, because his lips descended on hers. He wrapped his arms around her waist, hauling her up against his body as he kissed her for all he was worth. Her lips were the water to his parched mouth; he was a desert traveler on the brink of death until the elixir of her love saved him.
They pulled back only when breathing became necessary, and even then, they couldn’t stop their lips meeting for frantic pecks.
“I love you.”
She smiled the most beautiful, heartfelt smile; one that made him feel her love deep in his bones.
“Whether you like it or not,” she vowed.
He couldn’t help but grin and return the sentiment.
“Whether you like it or not.”
Namoriee stared at the woman before her with a sense of déjà vu. It was eerily reminiscent of her own trial, but she wasn’t the one facing chiefs this time.
“Do you know why you are here, Samanthia?”
The woman in question fidgeted nervously, but her gaze was unfaltering when it landed on Tyronian. She barely hid the hue of excitement before she regained a more demure look about her.
“No, Chiefs,” Samanthia replied.
Namoriee wanted to smack her. No doubt, Samanthia thought she was being called upon by the two chiefs due to a marriage proposal—one that in her deranged mind she felt she deserved.
She couldn’t have been more wrong.
“Samanthia, as you know, we have lost the Siraces’ chief a few months back, and in his death, Tyronian has ascended as Chief of the Siraces.”
“A title he is more than worthy of, my Chief,” Samanthia purred, bowing her head respectfully whilst looking at Tyronian from beneath her lashes. It was a practiced look, meant to entice, one that, Namoriee was sure, worked for her more often than not to get what she wanted.
Samanthia visibly perked up when Tyronian smirked at her, mistaking that quirk of lips for affection. But Namoriee knew better. It was the same smirk Tyronian had shot Cantos—right before he cut off his head.
“Samanthia,” Tyronian drawled, his charming voice echoing around the dining hall they were in.
Torrick, who was standing beside her, hidden behind the wall the Izayges villagers created in front of them, gripped her hand and gave it a light squeeze. He, as well as five other Siraces warriors, had escorted Namoriee home. She had been going over the conversation she and Samanthia had that day in Aggod’s hut, all those months ago, before Leawyn came and verbally smacked her out of her moments of self-pity. Some of the things Samanthia said had irritated her, and she felt like she was missing something vital.
It had continued to boggle her mind until the third day of her travels, when she solved the mystery.
“Samanthia, you are called upon us because a grave crime has been committed with your name at the heart of the offense.”
She was brought out of her musing by Tyronian’s grave tone. “Me?” Samanthia seemed shocked. “Who has accused me of such an offense?”
Torrick gripped Namoriee’s elbow, a question in his eyes. This was the cue they were waiting for.
She inhaled deeply, readying herself to be the center of everyone’s attention again, something she still despised. But she had too much honor to flee. That’s what the old Namoriee would have done.
At her nod, Torrick and his fellow warriors escorted her to the front; the crowd parted for them easily. They didn’t stop until she was beside her husband, who wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him. Torrick stayed slightly in front of her, protectively, while his warriors created a solid wall behind them, intermixing with Xavier’s guard.
Namoriee bravely met Samanthia’s seething gaze.
“Samanthia,” Tyronian began, all his earlier pretense gone. “You have been accused of murder by the Lady Chief of the Siraces.”
MONTHS LATER . . .
Namoriee groaned, covering her face with her hands.
“How many times do I need to tell you?” She sat up, glaring at her best friend. “I don’t want to know about you and your husband’s sex life! It’s already traumatizing enough that I walked in on you two last night—again!”
Leawyn exploded into a round of high-pitched cackles, somehow managing not to wake her sleeping sons, who seemed to have not inherited their father’s light sleeping habit.
“I’m telling you! It’s not nearly as horrible as you think it is. Sure, Xavier had to train me to the idea of it, but now I look forward to having him take me there as much as I do anywhere else.”
“Leawyn!” Namoriee shouted, horrified. Her friend managed to duck beneath the piece of fruit Namoriee chucked at her, which caused her to just cackle louder, evil witch that she was.
“Fine, fine,” Leawyn said, raising her hands in surrender. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you. You don’t know what you’re missing.”
Namoriee made a noncommittal humming sound, but she was internally smirking. Because, contrary to what Leawyn believed, she knew exactly what she wasn’t missing, because Tyronian had already taken another first the night they “made up.”
She shivered, remembering the way his tongue had felt when he licked her forbidden opening, getting it nice and wet and ready for his cock. It had hurt, a lot. It was as equally foreign as it was painful. But he had taken it slow, pushing inch by inch into her puckered hole until he was resting entirely inside of her.
The feeling was indescribable, and it made Namoriee burn hot with shame for enjoying the act as much as she did. But she did. She loved it when her husband took all her holes, and she couldn’t wait for him to steal any of the other firsts he decided were worthy of him.
Speaking of her husband . . .
“When do you think they’ll be back?” she asked Leawyn.
“Should be any time now. Xavier told me that there was no delay, and that the negotiations were now finalized.”
Tyronian had decided not to remain chief of the Siraces after all, and instead had returned to the Izayges. He was worried about how his sister-tribe would take his news, but they hadn’t reacted as badly as he thought they would. The only matter of debate was of who would take his place, to which they decided to appoint by popular vote within the tribe.
She shouldn’t have been surprised that Torrick was chosen, but she was. Something that he refused to let her live down.
Torrick and Tyronian had buried their differences, and Namoriee learned that the reason why they didn’t get along was from a conversation they’d had years ago, when Torrick accused Tyronian of beating her, not knowing it was really Cantos. She was also surprised to learn that another factor was because Torrick felt Tyronian’s hear
t wasn’t with the Siraces’ best interest when he was expected to be chief.
He was right, of course, which was another thing he didn’t let Tyronian live down.
The deal was that Torrick would be chief until they had children.
All in all, Namoriee was happy. She got to stay in the tribe she grew up in, surrounded by her friends and the man she loved without the worry of a certain someone trying to sabotage their happiness.
After Namoriee made amends with Tyronian, she told him, in detail, about the conversation she had with Samanthia. It turned out that the reason Kisias fell ill so suddenly and passed away just as fast was because Samanthia had poisoned him. In her deranged mind, she thought that they would be together if she cleared the way for Tyronian to be chief. Something she finally admitted to during her trail.
Xavier decided that it would be best for the Siraces to deal her punishment, as her grievance was stemmed towards them.
She didn’t ask Tyronian what happened to her, but she would guess that the woman did not live to see another sunrise.
Someone was kissing her—and it wasn’t on her lips.
Her eyes flew open, her mouth dropping in a silent scream when Tyronian licked her straight up to the center of her cleft.
“Oh!” she moaned, fisting his long locks as he moved his tongue up and down her slit, flicking her sensitive point of nerves every so often with just enough pressure to make her crave more. He hummed his encouragement against her, sending delicious vibrations through her.
It wasn’t long before she was clutching his head to her, and she came with a cry. Their movements were rushed when their lips met each other, and she tasted her release on his tongue as they shed out of their clothes until he fell back, pulling her so that she straddled him, her hips moving desperately against him.
“I missed you,” she gasped against his lips as she impaled herself on him.
“I missed you too. I can’t stand to be without you. But I must admit, if this is the type of attention I get upon my return, I might have to leave more often.” He slapped her ass playfully and grinned cheekily at her.
“You start to leave me on purpose, and I’ll break my promise and start to take care of myself.”
Ever since he caught her touching herself, he had forbidden her from doing it unless he was there to watch, which he had done many times. Yet he could only manage to watch her for a short while before he lost control and took over.
“Don’t you dare,” he growled at her, leaning up to bite her lip.
“Did you hear that Tristan’s back?” he managed to ask her before he groaned, his neck arching back when she slammed her hips down, grinding against him so that she touched that special spot she knew drove him crazy.
“He is?”
“Yup, and he’s not alone. He brought a woman with him, tied up like she was his prisoner. He’s keeping her in his hut. I’ve never seen Leawyn so furious.”
“That’s horrible!” She shuddered when he reached between them, flicking her clitoris with his thumb.
“Not that this conversation isn’t stimulating,” she gasped, “but do you think we can save the talking until after?”
His hand clasped against her hip, and a moment later their positions were reversed. He pulled back and flipped her over so that she was flat on her stomach. She shivered when she heard him spit onto his palm, knowing that he was rubbing his saliva on the tip of his cock. He spread her cheeks apart, and she moaned when the slippery, broad head started to press into her tight anus.
“You dirty girl,” he rasped, dragging his teeth down her neck.
“Only for you.”
He chuckled, and her back zinged with pleasure/pain when he bottomed out, completely inside of her. It didn’t take much longer after that, the new form of lovemaking causing their reactions to pleasure to be more intense. His thrusts were bordering on rough, and she could only bury her face into the sheets, quieting her screams as he jackknifed inside of her. He came within her as she was still coming down from her own powerful climax.
He pulled out and collapsed beside her, gathering her in his arms and holding her close.
“You know, if you’re wanting me to be with child, you’re going to have to start coming in the other hole,” she teased.
“We have time. Besides,” he added wryly. “I don’t know if I can deal with Xillik, the twins, and our son. That’s terrifying just to think about.”
Namoriee propped herself on one elbow, looking at him with a haughty look. “How do you know it will be a son? What if it’s a girl?”
Tyronian groaned, pulling her so that she rested half on top of him. He shuddered in horror.
“We can’t have a girl, my sweet. I’d end up killing someone. We’re boys.”
“I don’t think that’s how it works,” she laughed.
“Let’s not talk about this. I have something else I’d much rather talk about.”
“Oh yeah?” she asked, smiling. “Like what?”
He pulled the sheet off her, rolling on top of her again.
“Like how soon we can have reunion sex again. It’s quickly becoming my favorite.”
“I thought make-up sex was your favorite?”
“Any kind of sex with you is my favorite.”
He started to trail kisses down her body, and he soon found out that it didn’t take long at all.
Lucky for him.
Or was it, lucky for her?
THE END
Thank you for reading How the Warrior Claimed! I’m a new author and any reviews are very much appreciated! If you have a few moments to spare, I’d greatly appreciated it if you left a review on the retailer’s site where you purchased the book, and send the review link to [email protected] and I’ll personally thank you!
Other books in the Falling Warriors series
Want to know more about Xavier and Leawyn and their beginning? Check out their book and the first installment of the Falling Warriors series in HOW THE WARRIOR FELL.
A complete full-length novel available here.
Please turn the page to
enjoy a little taste of How the Warrior Fell.
SHE was the Chief’s daughter in a small tribe . . .
To bring an end to an ancient feud between her tribe and another, Leawyn’s hand in marriage to Chief Xavier was the only way to ensure peace.
HE was the fiercest warrior of them all . . .
Plucked from everything she’s ever known, and bound to a man she hates, Leawyn must learn to be strong. Each passing day renews Leawyn’s longing to escape, but when a new threat from a mysterious foe puts the tribes in jeopardy, everything changes . . . including her feelings for Xavier.
Bound between duty and honor, Leawyn must make the decision that could change everything. Can she stay and accept her new life, and her husband? Or is Xavier’s heart too cold for her to melt?
Lines will be broken.
Blood will be shed.
With love being their biggest battle of all, only time will tell, if it will be enough . . . to make her warrior fall.
Author’s Note: This book is a Dark Historical Romance and as such may include themes that are uncomfortable to the reader like arranged marriage, graphic violence, non-consensual sex, and an over-the-top alpha warrior who is extremely possessive and demanding. Being historical, it is written in accordance to the views and laws of the time period.
Leawyn stared down at herself in the basin of water, her sea-blue eyes taking in her hair that fell around her heart-shaped face in thick, long waves. She touched her cheek and trailed her fingertips down to her pale pink lips. Leawyn sighed and swiped the water in the basin roughly to erase her reflection.
Her head snapped up at the sound of footfalls coming towards her room.
Oh Gods, they’re coming, she thought. Moments later, the flap separating her room from the rest of the hut swung aside and in stepped her father and betrothed. She gasped softly when the man’s cold brown eyes met
hers.
Xavier kept his merciless eyes focused on her as he stood to his full six-foot-six height. His coal-colored hair brushed the tops of his broad shoulders, spread wide against his defined chest. His arms were bunched with muscles as they rested against his sides. The rumors she heard revolving around this man were all true, Leawyn realized, because looking at him now, all she could think of was danger.
Leawyn could still feel the heavy weight of Xavier’s gaze as she looked over to her father, who spoke suddenly, breaking the tense silence.
“Daughter, this is your betrothed, Xavier,” Boers said nervously as he glanced to Xavier before looking at her again. “Chief of the Izayges.”
Leawyn looked to Xavier again, the heat of his gaze making her uncomfortable. She lowered her head, dipping her body slightly at the waist in greeting.
Xavier continued to study her, raking his eyes up and down her body slowly. She felt even smaller in front of him. As discreetly as possible, Leawyn peeked up at him and studied him much like he did her.
His broad chest was bare, and he wore dark breeches that looked to be made of some type of tough animal skin, similar to leather. She could only spot three noticeable weapons on his person, but she doubted it was all he had on him. He had a sword that was long and wickedly curved strapped to his back, and another long, thick, straight blade hung down from the side of his waist. On the other side of his hip, Leawyn could see the hilt of a dagger peeking out of the waistband of his breeches. She glanced at his arms. They were massive. She looked down, heart rate spiking.
He was terrifying.
“Leave us,” Xavier demanded gruffly. His deep voice caused the demand to come out more like a growl. Leawyn felt her eyes widen, glancing at her father in fear.
Don’t leave me, Leawyn thought.
Her father shifted uncomfortably, but nodded his head. “Of course.” He bowed to Xavier. Giving his daughter one last apologetic look, he turned and lifted open the flap of the tent, leaving Xavier and Leawyn alone.
