“Well if my eyes didn’t deceive me, I’d be sure I was seeing a vision!”
“Torrick!” Namoriee laughed as her feet were swept off the ground by the tight hug once she turned around. “It’s been too long!”
“Yes, it has! Look at you,” Torrick said, his grin spread wide against his lightly tanned face as he surveyed her once he placed her feet back on the ground. “You’re stunning!”
“And married.” An imperturbable voice cut in. A hand clamped her waist from behind and pulled her against a hard chest.
“Tyronian,” Torrick said. All traces of her friend’s previous joy were wiped from his face.
“Torrick,” Tyronian replied, matching his tone.
The tension between them was palpable. It made Namoriee shift uncomfortably. The men stared at each other impassively, even as their eyes spit a different script.
“I suppose congratulations are in order.”
“It would appear so,” Tyronian said with something resembling smug possessiveness. An annoyed expression briefly crossed Torrick’s face. He went to respond, but Tyronian was already leading her away.
“What—” Namoriee spluttered. Tyronian’s arm tightened around her, disabling her from looking over her shoulder. She stumbled, having trouble keeping up with his long strides.
“This was a mistake,” Tyronian muttered darkly once he slammed the wood door closed behind him. “I gave explicit orders for him not to be here!”
They had arrived at the Siraces village a week ago. She knew that Tyronian had strong ties to this tribe and that he visited frequently, but it wasn’t until their stay that she learned the extent of his bond.
They treated him like he was one of their own, the admiration reflected clearly in the eyes of whoever he spoke with. He even had his own hut here in the village, which was made completely of stone.
“He wasn’t supposed to return until we left!” A muscle ticked in his jaw as he raged, his fists clenched at his sides while he paced. She didn’t know the history between Tyronian and Torrick, but the sight of her friend clearly aggravated her husband.
“You mean Torrick?” Namoriee asked, latching on to what he’d just said. “You gave orders for him to be sent away so that I wouldn’t see him?”
Tyronian’s step faltered just long enough to inform her that she was right.
“Why?” she breathed, shocked.
“Do you wish it were him?” he snapped, suddenly furious. “Is that why you fruitlessly fought my marriage proposal, because you were saving yourself for him?”
“What? No!”
“You sure about that?” Tyronian demanded. “I asked you once what your relationship was, and you said you were just friends. Did you lie to me?”
“We are friends!”
His nostrils flared. “People don’t react that way for ‘just friends.’”
She gaped at him. “Are you jealous?”
“Yes,” he said, nonplused. “I’m jealous because you’re my wife, and I have never once seen you smile at me the way you just did for him.”
Namoriee stood there, blinking at him. “You’re being ridiculous!”
“Am I?” His eyes narrowed. He had seen the happiness on Namoriee’s face when Torrick hugged her. Something violent had stirred inside of him at their easy comradery. He wanted to cut Torrick’s hands off just to ensure that he would never touch what was his again.
He walked her backwards until her knees touched the bed, a slab of flattened stone topped with a plush feather-filled pad. He pushed her down and braced his hands on either side of her.
“Do you have feelings for him?” he asked as he leaned over her, meeting her eyes.
“And if I say yes?”
He smiled, knowing that she was purposely goading him now—it wasn’t a nice smile. “Then I’ll eliminate the competition.”
She stayed silent, clearly trying to figure out if he was implying what she thought he was implying.
He was.
“I don’t share. His life means nothing to me.” Her eyes widened. “You’re my wife. I claimed you, and I don’t share. If you value his life, then forget whatever you think you feel for him, because his life means nothing to me. Do you understand?”
“You claimed me?” she scoffed. “I’m not a thing to be owned!”
“But you are owned, my sweet.” He gripped her wrists when she tried to push him away. “I want to be the reason why you smile. I want your hugs. I want your happiness. I want everything; even if I have to start taking it by force.”
“You sound like Xavier.” She meant it as an insult, but it just made his mouth twitch in humor.
“My cousin is a smart man.”
He whipped her around, bending her over their bed, and pinned her beneath him, letting her feel the hard bulk of his erection against the curve of her ass. One hand kept her arms at the small of her back, while the other trailed down her body. She shivered when his fingers grazed the underside of her breasts before trailing down her sternum, past her navel, until it disappeared underneath her skirts. Namoriee inhaled sharply when he parted her slick folds and touched the needy flesh within.
“Do you like that?” Tyronian whispered seductively in her ear when she moaned. “Do you like the way my fingers feel against you? Inside you?”
She whimpered when he added another digit, pumping inside her in a steady rhythm. “Are you thinking about him?” he growled. “Are you wishing these were his fingers inside you?” He shoved into her with more force, making her gasp.
“Do you?” he demanded.
She shook her head, her trembling quickly becoming a full-on shake.
“Not good enough.”
She cried out when he withdrew his fingers from inside her, effectively halting her orgasm.
“You’ll never know the touch of him,” he snarled after he’d flipped her over so that they were chest to chest. He nudged her legs apart with his thighs, stepping between them. His hands unbuckled his pants. “You’ll never know what his cock feels like inside you.” He yanked her to the edge of the bed, the head of his penis nudging at her folds. He speared her with his eyes, holding her gaze captive as he leaned forward, lips hovering over hers.
“Why is that, Namoriee?”
“Because I’m yours,” she whispered breathlessly.
“Say it louder.”
He started to press into her, one inch by delicious inch at a time. No matter how many times they’d been together, she could never quite get over his girth. He might not be the longest, but he was thick; so thick that it was an effort for her body to accept him each time they joined.
“I’m . . .” She shuddered as he began to press into her harder. “I’m . . . !”
“Louder!”
She could feel him stretching her, forcing her most delicate tissue to ease and accept his penetration. Her inner depths screamed its refusal, but the copious head of his shaft ignored the resistance and continued to pillage inside of her until she felt nothing but his ownership.
“Say—“
“I’m yours!” she shrieked when he finally thrust the last few inches inside of her roughly. Her back arched at the sensation, hips nudging forward, seeking more pressure, more pain, more pleasure. “Ah!”
“Are you seeing me, or him?” His voice was a husky growl as he started a rhythm inside of her. “Maybe I should go get Torrick so he can watch me fuck you. Would you like that? Would you like for him to watch me own you? Let him see how slick my cock is each time it comes out of your tight little cunt?”
His words were filthy, sickening even. Wrong. But the picture he painted made her hot—hot with shame and arousal. He was twisting something intimate between them, turning what was supposed to be pure, dirty.
“Naughty girl,” he rasped in her ear. “You do like that. I can feel it. Maybe I will, just to teach you both a lesson. Or maybe . . .” he bent over her more, his hips picking up the pace, plunging inside her with varying force.
“Maybe I’ll ask him to join us. I’ll take this cunt while he fills your mouth. I’ll watch you suck him off. I’ll watch you let him inside of this sweet body with the knowledge that you’re allowing him inside what’s mine because I deemed it so. I’ll let him take you, because you’ll be wishing it was me. You’ll look to me, begging me to take you back—to save you—and I’ll tell you no.”
She let out a sound that a was a mixture of a sob and a gasp. She felt his lips at her ear, his beard scraping the delicate lobe when he whispered to her in the cruelest of tones.
Tears gathered in her eyes; too many emotions were flooding inside of her. Everything was hard; his chest, his expression, his erection.
He was owning every part of her. Her body, her feelings, her mind.
He was making her feel hot. She felt like she was going to combust just from the pleasure he was inflicting on her, but the heat started to sizzle out, and the shame started to burn.
He was twisting her, molding her so that she was his image instead of her own.
And just like that, the spell that he had so cleverly woven around her was broken, shattered as swiftly as her orgasm.
“No!”
She had screamed it on her release, shocking them both. The aftershocks of her orgasm were still slamming into her when she pushed back at him, lunging. The action and motion caught him so off guard that he could only clamp onto her thighs and bring her with him when he fell backwards, taking the brunt of the fall on his back with her on top of him.
“No!” she said again, quickly straddling him so that she was in the position of power. “No, I won’t! I won’t like it, and I won’t accept it, and you wouldn’t either!”
His eyes were wide as he stared at her, his mouth dropped open. She was shaking as she started to grate against him, sliding up and down his engorged flesh. She lashed out at him, grabbing a fistful of his hair and pulling so that his neck strained as she bent over him. Her eyes were fire compared to his own.
“I’m not your slut to be passed around! I am your wife, and I own this cock,” she sneered the word, “as much as you own this cunt. So, if you want to share, then do what I asked from the beginning and release me of your bond and share whatever pair of legs you see fit, because they won’t be mine!”
“Gods, Namoriee,” Tyronian growled, surging up and grabbing for her. She battled him, but his grip was too strong. He yanked her forward and claimed her with his lips, groaning when she bit him, refusing to bow down.
“You’re mine,” he heaved once he pulled away, lifting his hips to meet her jerky thrusts. “I’m yours. You’re all I want. You’re all I’ve ever wanted, and you’re right—you own this cock.” He gripped her hair to tilt her head back, feverish eyes clashing together as they were consumed by their bitter lust.
“Now ride me. Ride me hard, and fast. Take what belongs to you.”
She knocked him down again, bracing herself above him with her arms on either side of his head, and she did just that. She rose above him, slammed herself down on his length in hard, uncoordinated, jerks. He groaned, the sound broken and amazed as she took him. For once, she was the aggressor. She was the one making him moan and shudder beneath her. He was begging her, incoherent pleas and praises leaving his lips until he called out, stiffening from either side of her thighs and clutching her to his chest as his orgasm rippled through him.
That night, she taught him a lesson, and she learned one of her own.
She owned him.
And it was getting harder for her to deny her feelings.
Namoriee didn’t see much of Tyronian during the visit, as he seemed to always be spending time with Kisias, or in a meeting with the other warriors. He’d been tight-lipped about the reason for their impromptu visit, but she could tell by the way his eyes seemed to always be troubled or the way his lips were always turned down that it wasn’t for pleasant circumstances.
She asked him a few times what was troubling him, but each time he would snap out of his musings to put forth a false smile and deny that anything was wrong. She stopped asking after the third time and just convinced herself that he would tell her when he was ready.
While she didn’t get to spend time with her husband, she was able to instead hang out with Torrick and Byne, whom she missed desperately.
After their fight, Tyronian seemed to be accepting of their friendship, though he still showed bouts of jealousy. She asked Torrick why they hadn’t gotten along, but he remained diplomatic in his response. It was their last night here at the Siraces, and Namoriee was looking forward to going home, though she would miss Torrick and Byne.
It was Torrick’s night to be on patrol, so they had said their goodbyes earlier with promises to visit each other soon. That night, Namoriee was left to dine alone since Tyronian was in another meeting with the Siraces advisors. Not feeling particularly hungry, she decided to just go back to their room and double-check her packing since Tyronian told her they would leave upon first light.
She didn’t hear Tyronian come in until he slid into the bed and gathered her up in his arms, holding her close. She didn’t fight him when he positioned her so that he held one of her legs up and pushed the skirts of her dress high on her thighs. Nor when he pulled his pants down enough to release his length so that he could press inside her.
She said nothing even as he took her like a man chasing a demon until she cried her release with a choked cry. He followed her and then clung to her like she was his lifeline.
She stayed silent even when he buried himself in her neck, his chest caving with each ragged breath he took as he tried to keep his sorrow from escaping his eyes.
All she did was let him use her however he needed, because in that moment, she understood what Xavier’s message to Garnette meant.
In the morning, he told her that Kisias had died, but she didn’t know what it meant for them until after the funeral, when they left and went back home.