Namoriee wasn’t sure what woke her, but she blinked, trying to clear the grogginess out of her vision. It was still dark out, but the start of a glowing light across the sky assured her that dawn was approaching. The fire was nothing but a few smoldering embers now, some still carrying the red glow of heat. Her back felt warm, the hard body pressed tight against it a barrier to the chill. Tyronian was holding her from behind, one arm wrapped tightly around her waist while the other was beneath her, providing a pillow of muscled flesh.
She tilted her head slightly, not wanting to wake him. He was pressed so close to her that his nose was buried in her hair, and she could feel his even breaths. His sword was just a few inches from his hand, easily accessible should the need arise.
A shadow of movement caught her eye, so she turned to look, and gasped. Floating eyes surrounded by darkness stared straight at her.
“Don’t move,” Tyronian whispered into her ear, his voice barely above a breath. She hadn’t known that he was awake. A low growl emerged from the beast’s throat as it took a step towards them. She stiffened, terror clogging her throat. Tyronian squeezed around her middle, a move meant to comfort, but it didn’t.
“Calm down,” he whispered to her.
She tried, she really did, but she couldn’t. Her breathing started to become erratic, try as she might to calm her racing heart. Panic and fear took hold.
She knew that leopards and lions roamed their lands; there were often hunting parties for them. They had attacked the cattle and goats a few times, but never had she seen one up close and alive. Another growl penetrated the air, and a paw became visible as it took another threatening step towards them. The beast’s eyes kept flashing from them to beyond their heads, and Namoriee felt sudden fear for Tyronian’s horse, who was trapped. What the beast considered its meal.
Suddenly, it crouched, lowering itself down to the ground. She felt Tyronian tense, his muscles coiling as he prepared himself. From her periphery, she saw that he now had his sword clutched in his hand.
It happened quickly.
With a ferocious and terrifying growl, the cat leaped, claws out and stretched towards them. Namoriee screamed, and just as quickly, Tyronian rolled them backwards, dragging Namoriee up and over him. She stared, horrified, as the cat landed precisely where their heads would have been. Tyronian rolled to his feet quickly, and Namoriee found herself launched across the grass, landing hard on her back.
She watched, wide-eyed and terrified as the hunter and prey circled each other. The creature’s spotted tail whipped back and forth in agitation as it faced Tyronian. She was helpless but to watch when the cat swiped its mighty paw towards Tyronian’s stomach. Then it lunged forward, claws trying to find purchase in his abdomen. Another angry snarl escaped the beast, and Tyronian matched it with one of his own.
“Tyronian!” Namoriee screamed in horror when the beast lunged at him again, this time knocking him down on his back. Fear paralyzed her as the leopard tried to bite Tyronian, going for his jugular.
A blur of fur, blond hair, and tanned skin mixed together in a clash of color. Tyronian cried out in pain, and she screamed when blood went flying.
She heard, as if distant, the thundering of hooves as Jidu stomped angrily behind them, distraught by his master’s cry. It served as a distraction, for the leopard looked towards him.
A horrible screeching sound split the air and echoed in the darkness. It was a sound that Namoriee knew she would never forget. Another wail sounded, slow, pained, and almost . . . sad. The leopard fell moments later, covering Tyronian with his body.
Nothing.
There was not a sound after that, and Namoriee thought she would choke from her fear. Her heart was beating a rapid crescendo, her breaths heaving.
“T-T-Tyronian?” Namoriee whimpered, shaking. Jidu let out a distressed whinny, pacing anxiously from the tree his halter was tied- up to.
The cat moved, its shoulders twitching, and Namoriee shot to her feet and backed up.
Had Tyronian not survived? Had the cat killed him? Her heart screamed at that idea, tears prickling the back of her eyes.
A low groan came from underneath the cat, and Namoriee practically fell in relief at the noise. She rushed over to him, helping him push the carcass off him.
She fell to her knees with tears of relief but paled when she saw his bloody arm. He followed her gaze.
“The little bastard got lucky.” He grimaced as he sat up, using only his abdominal muscles to lift his back from the ground.
“We need to go b-b-back to the tribe. Aggod, she—”
“Shh,” he cooed softly, placing a single, non-bloodied finger over her lips. She was completely rattled, and she knew she must look a fright from the way Tyronian was gazing at her. He was the one injured, and here he was, trying to comfort her. How much more pathetic could she be?
Weak, as always, her mind screamed.
“It’s merely a flesh wound. No need to travel back for sutures that I can perform myself.”
Another troubled sound came from behind them, and Namoriee quickly went to Jidu to release him. He came to Tyronian immediately, snuffling along his hairline to ensure that his master was okay. Tyronian spent a few minutes petting Jidu, and Namoriee took that time to heat up some water and rummage through their pack until she found the supplies she needed. Tyronian gave Jidu one last affectionate pat before he sent him on his way, looking up at Namoriee when she crouched in front of him.
“Your w-w-wounds need t-to be cleansed,” she said, proffering him the heated cup of water.
She watched as the water mixed with his blood, running a trail down the corded muscles in his arm and revealing the deep grooves embedded in his skin from the cat’s claws. He handed the cup back to her, and she traded it out with the bottle of whiskey that she found and handed it to him. He paused when he saw it, and she rolled her eyes when he lifted the bottle to his lips, taking a few pulls before pouring it over his wound.
He didn’t flinch, though she knew the alcohol must’ve stung.
Once he was done drying and wiping off the blood, Namoriee tilted, reaching around behind her and carefully taking the needle she had rested against the fire to sterilize it. She handed it to Tyronian, who quickly strung the thin twine through.
“I c-c-can help.”
He waved her off. “I like to inflict pain on myself. According to Xavier, it makes you better at sex.” He winked at her, and she couldn’t help but laugh.
He began to stitch himself with practiced moves, his hands as steady as her own would have been. It was silent between them, Tyronian focusing on sewing his wound up, and Namoriee watching, in slight awe at how effortless it was for him. She had administrated many stitches, but she couldn’t imagine giving them to herself. It was a skill that Tyronian had no doubt honed from the many battles he fought.
He looked up at her after he had finished tying off the sutures, cutting the excess string off. He grinned at the worried look that she knew she still wore.
“I’m fine, Namoriee. But it warms my heart to know you’re so concerned. Perhaps I should find another cat to wrestle with, if this is the result,” he joked.
“You could have died,” Namoriee said softly, still highly emotional. “That isn’t funny.”
What would become of her should he die?
His expression smoothed out into a more serious one, and Namoriee felt something pang in her chest at the slightly haunted look that entered his eyes. He reached between them, trailing a knuckle down her cheek.
“There have been many times in my life that I have been close to death. Though times are peaceful now, I have no doubt that there will be more. As my wife, you need to harden your heart to that impending future. But, when the day I meet the gods comes, you will be taken care of. You have my word.”
It was as if he had reached inside of her and grasped one of her fears that she had buried deep. She did not want this marriage; she didn’t appreciate having her free will taken from her, but the thought of waking up to behold the morrow knowing that she would never see his smiling face again made her heart ache and swirl with all kinds of emotions inside of her.
But, he was right.
Whether she liked it or not, his lifestyle ensured that the breath in his lungs wasn’t promised, and that sooner, rather than later, his death would come. He was a warrior, and warriors rarely lived out their days with white hair and wrinkled skin. It was one of the reasons, she knew deep down, that made her so unwilling to marry him.
Being a warrior’s wife often meant being doomed to be a widow. How would she be able to live if he were killed?
Day four into their journey, Namoriee was starting to get an idea of where they were going. The landscape changed from forest and mountains to hills and tall grass. There was more of a breeze, and the air felt crisper. They hadn’t been riding hard; instead, Tyronian seemed to like taking his time, content to hold her tight to his chest and let Jidu set his own pace.
She started to hear weird sounds, like rushing water and the squawking of a bird she had never heard before. It was nearing twilight, and when they crested the final incline, Namoriee saw the most breathtaking sight.
“Wow,” she breathed, mesmerized.
They were standing on a cliff that overlooked the vast ocean. The sea reflected the sleepy sun, whose last rays lit up the sky in brilliant oranges and shocking pinks so that the water sparkled beautifully. It was like a goddess’s smile.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Tyronian said from behind her, his voice wistful and content. “Leawyn was spoiled, having this view every day.”
Namoriee snapped her head towards him. “We’re in the Rhoxolani?” she asked, stunned.
Tyronian nodded, his expression revealing sadness but also humor at her disbelief. “You mustn’t tell Leawyn, but Xavier has been working hard to restore her village. He plans to make it another Izayges settlement.” He looked farther right, and for the first time, Namoriee noticed the outlines of buildings atop the mightiest cliff.
“It’s one of the reasons I’m here. Xavier wanted an update.” He glanced back down at her, an endearing grin on his face. “I figured I’d show you the ocean. You’ve never seen it before, right?”
Namoriee shook her head, gazing back at the amazing sight. “No,” she said softly, still in awe at the vast beauty.
“Never.”
It was a sight that she would never forget.
“The stables are over there,” Tyronian said, nudging his chin straight ahead to a tall brown building once they made it into the village.
It was one of the first things they’d built. The structure housed five stalls on each side, and there was a large fenced-in barrier so that the horses could go outside but also find shelter as they pleased. The stables were to house only the horses of esteemed guests, while the divided fifty acres of fenced-in fields would house the herd.
“I have some business to attend to first, but I will send someone to show you where we’ll be staying,” he told her. Namoriee looked over to the stables, then back to him, nodding. He watched her walk for a moment before he turned and headed to his destination. He stopped when he noticed the female walking towards him. They ended up meeting halfway, and Tyronian recognized her immediately.
“Samanthia,” he greeted politely. His gaze was unwittingly drawn to her bust, which was on the verge of spilling out of her tight corset.
“Tyronian,” she purred. “What a pleasant surprise. Missed me so much you decided to visit?” He snapped his gaze up, noticing the satisfied spark in her eyes. He stepped back out of her reach when she trailed a finger down his chest.
“I wasn’t aware that you were here.” He cleared his throat, glancing at anything but her.
“Chief Xavier thought it would be beneficial to the men if they had some womanly company for motivation.”
Her tone implied just what kind of motivation she meant.
“Well, good for you,” Tyronian said in mock-enthusiasm. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to . . . yeah.” Tyronian pointed over her shoulder, trying to make a quick escape. A slim hand on his forearm stopped him.
“What’s the hurry?” Samanthia asked, a sultry smile on her face. She went to press against him, and to avoid her, he retreated. “You’re so tense,” Samanthia said, kneading his shoulders. “Let me take care of that for you,” she cooed.
“Samanthia,” Tyronian sighed, reaching up and taking her hands off him. They were like tentacles. He had seen a weird sea creature once that had eight of them, and it terrified him. Why did anything need that many arms? “Stop,” he ordered firmly.
“I’ll make you feel good,” she whispered in a tenor aimed to turn him on. But it did the opposite. “Let me make you feel good.”
Was it his imagination, or were her lips leaning in towards his?
“T-Tyronian?”
The timid voice made him freeze.
“Namoriee,” Tyronian said in surprise. She was staring at his hands, which he realized were still gripping Samanthia’s. He dropped them like they burned him, taking several steps back from her. The woman pouted in response.
Namoriee’s eyes ping-ponged between Tyronian and Samanthia nervously.
“I waited, like you t-told me to, b-but when no one c-came, I got worried.” She grew quieter with each word. Her stutter had gotten better over the last two years. So much so that sometimes it was almost nonexistent. But when she was nervous, or unsure, or around him (which he liked), it came out more.
He knew she hated speaking in front of people she did not know, which made guilt and anger flood him—guilt for making her wait and worry, and anger at himself for putting her in this situation.
“I’m sorry,” he said remorsefully. “Come, I’ll show you where we’re staying.”
Namoriee hesitated, shooting a glance at Samanthia.
“Namoriee,” he said firmly. She quickly made her way to him, keeping her head lowered.
He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, speaking quietly in her ear. “Go on straight ahead. I’ll follow you.”
Her stiff nod made him hold in his sigh. He kissed her cheek before he dropped his arm. When she was far enough away, he turned back to Samanthia, who had a dark look on her face.
“Who was that?” The question was spoken casually but in a tone that belied innocence.
“My wife,” he replied.
“Wife,” she coughed. “Since when?”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Does it matter?”
She studied him, trying to calculate his expression. Her eyes had flared with anger, but it was quickly replaced with calmness as a coy smile lifted her lips.
“It was arranged then,” she stated, sounding pleased. She stepped forward, her body language turning seductive. “Makes sense; you will need heirs. Your status demands it.”
His hold was iron-clad when he snatched her wrists before she could touch him again.
“It was arranged—” he said, watching as triumph flared in her eyes before he continued, “—by me. It was always my plan.”
He smirked at her. He could see that she was silently fuming, trying to comprehend what he was telling her.
“You’re lying,” she hissed.
“I’m not.” He flung her hand away from him. “Don’t try this again,” he told her seriously, walking backwards up the hill. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, my wife is waiting for me.” He turned around to leave.
“You’ll come back,” Samanthia called out from behind him smugly. “You always do.”
Tyronian swung back around. “Why don’t you go and find a cock to suck, Samanthia? That’s about the only thing you’re good for.”