TWO WINTERS LATER
“What are you asking, exactly?”
Tyronian’s eyes narrowed at the question. My cousin is a bastard, he thought.
Judging by the humored glint in Xavier’s eyes—and the smirk that Tyronian’s fists were itching to wipe off his face—he knew it too.
“You know exactly what I’m asking, cousin,” Tyronian sneered.
Xavier chuckled, shaking his head. A glance over at his wife, Leawyn—also Tyronian’s cousin—showed that she, too, was amused at his expense. Being the chief of the legendary Izayges, Xavier looked every bit the formidable warrior he was. He was taller, standing closer to six-foot-six compared to Tyronian’s six-foot-five-inch frame.
Xavier was broad-shouldered and heavily muscled. His dark skin was riddled with scars from his many battles. His long beard matched the color of his long brown hair, and his wife couldn’t be more of his opposite. While Xavier was dark, Leawyn was light.
From her bright blond hair, a few shades lighter than Tyronian’s dirty-blond locks, to her petite frame, which highlighted the soft, supple curves of her hips. Dark lashes framed the bluest eyes that sparkled the same way the ocean did under the sun.
They were congregated in the large hut that was used for their tribe’s meals. Xavier had it built for Leawyn when she mentioned that one of the things she missed most about her village was that they had all shared their meals together. There wasn’t anything Xavier wouldn’t do for his wife, so naturally, he had this giant hut built and the Izayges now had a new tradition.
“Save yourself the trouble and just say it,” Leawyn said in her melodic voice with a grin that practically broke her face.
Bastards. Both of them.
“Fine,” Tyronian growled, fists clenching with his annoyance. “I want to make Namoriee my wife. Do you accept my offer, Chief?” His voice was sickly sweet, full of false niceties and sarcasm.
Xavier’s eyes glittered with triumph when he nodded his head. Clearly, he was enjoying this. “I accept. You may have her.”
He nodded his head in gratitude to him. Xavier knew very well that it wouldn’t have mattered if he denied Tyronian—he would’ve claimed her anyways.
Namoriee was his. He had waited two winters for her to shed the skin of a young girl and blossom into the woman that she was today. From the very first moment Namoriee’s green eyes—so timid and unsure of herself—had caught his, her fate was sealed.
He remembered the moment clearly; it was as if a lightning bolt struck Tyronian’s heart and stole his breath. The rush of protectiveness that took over his body was shocking, and as the years passed, his protectiveness, innocent at first, became more. She started to grow up, and men took notice. Him included. His protectiveness became possessiveness. His want became need. His lust became . . . something far more powerful.
From then on, Tyronian had looked after Namoriee, even if it was from afar. It was Tyronian who made sure that she didn’t go hungry solely because of her status, or that she had decent clothing for the winter and a roof over her head.
When his cousin got married, Tyronian made sure that she would be his new wife’s handmaiden because he knew what that would mean for her, what kind of opportunities that offered her. He was glad that the tales of Leawyn’s beauty weren’t the only rumor that was true. Rumors had spread fast about the daughter of the Rhoxolani chief, of how she was the most beautiful girl in all the land, and had a pure heart filled only with kindness.
They were all truths, Tyronian had learned; his cousin was in fact beautiful, and she was the most kindhearted person he knew. But she didn’t hold a candle to his Namoriee. She was the most beautiful girl in the land in his eyes, and she was going to be all his. No matter how much she tried to deny it.
“Where is she?” Tyronian asked Leawyn directly, as she would know best where her friend was.
Leawyn smiled her radiant smile that enamored so many men. “She’s in my hut with Xillik,” she answered. “She probably already put him down for his nap and is heading back to her own hut.” Leawyn’s eyes twinkled with a mischievousness that made him grin.
“I’ll take my leave then,” he said. Taking the few steps needed, he placed a kiss on Leawyn’s cheek. He was just about to open the door to leave when her voice made him pause.
“She will fight you, Tyronian. Not because you are unworthy, but because she feels that she is unworthy. Her heart is strong; don’t be afraid to break it. Just as long as you can put it back together again with even more strength.”
Tyronian turned, looking Leawyn in the eyes. She smiled gently at him, but the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. Instead, they reflected the battles her own heart had fought. Tyronian didn’t think anyone really knew the effect the war had on his beautiful cousin. Leawyn was strong—stronger than anyone he knew—but even the strongest heart struggled to keep the darkness that came with taking a life at bay.
“You have my word,” he vowed. Leawyn smiled.
When she did not say more, Tyronian gave her and Xavier another nod before opening the door and exiting the room.
It is time to tell my wife-to-be the good news.
It took forever for Namoriee to get Xillik to settle down enough to sleep. The adorable-yet-crazy blond-haired toddler was insane. He had an overabundance of energy, and he was already mischievous enough to use his cuteness to get away from things he didn’t agree with, like naps.
Xillik inherited Leawyn’s hair and blue eyes, and when he smiled, two identical dimples appeared on both cheeks. As far as Namoriee could see, the only thing that he inherited from Xavier was his height. He was already taller than the other kids his age.
Putting him to sleep was a struggle, and when he finally did fall asleep, all Namoriee wanted to do was the same. Which was exactly what she planned to do as soon as she got into her hut.
Or at least she was, until she walked in and saw the last person she wanted to see sitting on her bed pallet, waiting for her.
“Tyronian, what are you doing in here?” Namoriee asked nervously, gripping the handle to her door tighter.
He smiled, and something about that smile instantly put her on alert.
“Close the door, Namoriee.”
Closing the door was the last thing she wanted to do.
“I’m really tired, maybe you can—”
“I said close the door, Namoriee.”
Namoriee’s breath shuddered out of her. Something in his eyes told her that even though she didn’t want to shut the door, it would be better if she did. She swallowed against her nerves and did as she was told.
“Lock it,” he ordered, never taking his eyes off her.
Her hands began to tremble when she did as he asked and locked the door. He grinned, lighting up his eyes. He crooked his finger at her. “Come here.”
No way, she thought to herself.
It was bad enough she was alone in a room with this beautiful man—there was no way she was going to get close enough for him to touch her. His presence did weird things to her body. He made her lose her head, and his touch heated her nerve-endings like fire while her heart froze like ice. The last time he had touched Namoriee, it did things to her body that equally exhilarated and terrified her.
So, no, she was not going to go to him.
At least not all the way.
Her hut was small, equipped with only the essentials: a bed, fire pit, and chest.
“Why are you here?” Namoriee asked when she came to a stop in the middle of her hut. It was close enough that she could get away with following his order, but not close enough for him to reach out to her. His amused look told her that he knew she did that deliberately.
“You know why I’m here.”
If it was anyone else, she wouldn’t have a clue. But this was Tyronian, and he’d been telling Namoriee what was going to happen for a long time. She did know what he was doing here.
Unwittingly, the memory of that night so long ago flashed behind her eyes.
It was two and a half winters ago. The night she knew her life would never be the same again.
The rain was merciless.
The wind howled loudly as thunder and lightning flashed across the sky, like it was the only way the gods knew how to express their displeasure to the mere mortals below.
Namoriee shivered as she ducked her head down against the strong currents, trying to hold her heavy cloak against her body as it tried to fly away. Several of her fellow village people quickly ran past, looking for respite after securing their various animals and possessions.
“What are you doing out here?!”
Namoriee lifted her head up at the call and met the russet eyes of Tristan as he marched his way towards her. Blinking the rain from her eyes, she tilted her head to consider the displeased face of her lady chief’s brother, and second in line to chiefship, when he grabbed for her.
“You shouldn’t be out here!” Tristan yelled, trying to be heard over the heavy downpour. She eyed the grip he had on her arm unhappily, but she knew better than to comment.
“I was instructed to check on the horses. Qubec is due to give birth any day now, and I need to make sure that the storm isn’t causing her stress,” she yelled to him over the howling wind.
Tristan frowned, tugging on her arm. He started to lead her back in the direction of her hut. “I’ll send someone to check on her. You shouldn’t be out here. Tyronian—”
Namoriee flushed in embarrassment, knowing where he was going with this. She yanked her arm out of his grasp, much to his surprise.
“He is not my concern, nor should I be his. Qubec was instructed to my care, and I will be the one to see it so,” she said mutinously, glaring up at him. “S-sir,” she stuttered weakly when he gave her a disapproving stare. She had forgotten her place and spoke out of turn.
“Namoriee, as your—”
Whatever Tristan was going to order was swiftly cut off as another flash of lightning lit the sky, only this time it struck one of the many trees surrounding their village. Namoriee’s eyes widened when it quickly caught fire, splintering in half and falling from its host with an almighty crash.
“For the love of the gods!” Tristan cursed, giving her a quick glance before he shot off to the burning tree, calling over his shoulder as he did so.
“Go home, Namoriee!”
She watched for a moment, still slightly bewildered at her luck. She sent a quick thank-you to the gods before she hunkered down and continued on her way. Hopefully Tristan was too busy with the burning tree to see that she wasn’t heading in the direction of her hut.
The sound of high-pitched whinnies concerned Namoriee greatly.
She hurried her pace to the small mare barn that Qubec was stalled in. It was a simple structure of three twelve-by-twelve stalls.
Qubec was the only mare the Izayges were expecting to foal, but many were hoping that, come spring time, there would be at least four more colts to roam their land. It would be the first time that Namoriee would get to witness a horse give birth, which made her even more determined to make sure Qubec was taken care of properly.
The wind made it difficult for Namoriee to open the door. It whistled through the small gap and pushed hay and straw that was left on the ground into a small whirlwind. She tugged with more strength and, inch by inch, the door opened enough to slip through and then push close with a loud bang.
She sighed as she slumped against the door in relief. The shrill whinny broke through her thoughts and reminded her why she was there in the first place. She quickly walked to the only stall lit.
Qubec was still whinnying in fear when Namoriee approached her. The white of the mare’s eyes showed how distressed she was. Quickly unlatching the stall door, she let herself inside, taking care to hold her hands up in a nonthreatening manner. The last thing she wanted to do was spook Qubec.
“Easy girl, take it easy. You’re alright,” Namoriee cooed, grabbing the rope halter and bringing the mare’s muzzle to her chest. She ran her fingers down through Qubec’s mane and nose, the coarse hairs tickling her fingertips a second before the silky softness took over.
Qubec snorted in fear, stomping on the ground and throwing her head against Namoriee’s hold.
Biting her lip, Namoriee eyed the mare nervously. She was worried about what the stress was doing to her. Namoriee continued to coo at her until Qubec gradually managed to calm down.
“There, all better, huh, girl?” she asked softly, continuing to stroke her nose.
Qubec snorted, as if in agreement. Namoriee smiled.
The barn door suddenly crashed open with a flash of lightning that caused Qubec to rear up in terror. Stumbling backwards, Namoriee narrowly avoided getting kicked in the face before Qubec charged forward. The white of Qubec’s eyes was the last thing she saw a second before the horse slammed into her shoulder, launching her clear across the stall. There was a sickening crack! when the back of her head slapped against the wall.
Namoriee thought she heard her name being called right before the black spots overtook her vision and she fell unconscious.
When Namoriee slowly came to, she started to rise but immediately lay back down at the sharp pain the movement caused her head.
“You shouldn’t try to get up. You hit your head pretty hard.”
The deep voice startled Namoriee so much that she jumped. She turned her head quickly to locate where it came from and gasped. It was partly because of the nausea and pain the sudden jerk had caused her, and partly because the chief’s cousin, Tyronian, was glaring at her from a chair in the corner.
“What did you think you were doing, Namoriee?” he asked, resting his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward, his voice deeper with his displeasure.
“You shouldn’t be out in a storm like this. You could have been killed!”
Namoriee licked her lips nervously, avoiding his eyes. The chair creaked as he stood, and she tensed when she heard his footsteps bring him closer. The bed caved to his weight as a gentle but calloused hand cupped her chin and tilted her head to meet his narrowed gaze. She looked back down.
“Look at me.”
When she didn’t, his grip on her chin tightened. “Look at me, Namoriee,” he ordered firmly, nudging until she had no choice but to obey him. “Answer me.”
She swallowed, her mouth dry with nerves. “I . . . I had to check on Qubec. She’s with f-foal, and I needed t-to make sure she was o-o-kay,” she managed to stutter out in a whisper. She tried to pull away from him, but he wouldn’t let her.
“You will never again put yourself in danger like you did tonight. Do you understand?”
“You can’t demand something like that. I’m not your responsibility.”
He ducked his head so that their eyes locked, very much crowding her. “That’s where you’re wrong, Namoriee,” he growled. “Very wrong. Everything about you is my responsibility.”
Her breath caught as his fingers started a slow stroke downward, rubbing against her pounding pulse point. She shuddered, goose bumps appearing across her body as his beard brushed against her sensitive skin.
“Please . . .” Namoriee whimpered, though she wasn’t sure what she was begging for.
His low chuckle in her ear caused the hair on the back of her neck to stand on end.
“Please what, Namoriee?”
She inhaled sharply, one of those dry breaths that came before tears. Her words were a stuttering mess as they tumbled out of her. “Please don’t, I just . . . you’re Chief’s c-c-cousin, and I . . . I’m just—”
Her words were halted, breath hitching, when Tyronian’s lips brushed her neck where his hand had rested, the quick flick of his tongue against it making her body shudder. The bed rustled when he shifted so that he could kiss her forehead, his lips staying against her skin when he spoke.
“When you’re older. You’re not ready for me yet, but . . . know that I’m going to take you, Namoriee. I’m going to take you and never let you go,” he said quietly. “I’ll wait . . . but when you’re older, you’re going to be mine in every way possible. Whether you like it or not.”
Namoriee froze, her green eyes flying up to Tyronian’s blue gaze in shock. He pulled away. His locked jaw and the promise in his eyes were telling enough.
He was serious.
“Now go back to sleep.” Tyronian headed back to the chair in the corner as Namoriee lay back down in a daze. The candlelight around her went out, and a strange electricity hummed through her as she closed her eyes.
His words chanted over and over in her mind like a mantra.
I’m going to take you, Namoriee.
When you’re older.
Whether you like it or not.
Namoriee wasn’t sure if her next shiver was of fear . . . or anticipation.
Namoriee came out of her daze the minute she felt the heat of his hand reach for hers.
“No!” she cried, wrenching herself away and stumbling back. She shook her head, panic making her eyes wide.
“You can’t make me. I don’t accept!”
Tyronian’s expression darkened, and she knew immediately that she had said the wrong thing. His eyes got this predatory gleam in them, and she recognized she was in trouble when he started to stalk towards her.
“You knew this day would come. I’ve warned you. Whether you like it or not. Remember?”
She could hear her breathing accelerate, the breaths coming out in shallow, uneven pants as she stared up at him. She was retreating as he was advancing, his big, muscular body rippling with each step he took towards her.
“You don’t know what you’re doing. What you’re asking,” Namoriee said timidly. Tyronian’s lips pulled back in a carnal smirk, his eyes glittering in dark amusement.
“That’s where you’re wrong, Namoriee,” he purred. “I know exactly what I’m doing, and I know exactly what I want.”
Her back collided with the wall; his chest brushed against hers as he caged her in with his arms. He dipped his head to capture and ensnare her eyes with his.
“I want you. All of you, and that’s never gonna change. I waited two winters to make you my wife; I’m not waiting any longer. Your time is up.”
He didn’t even give her a chance to deny him again before he captured her lips with his.