She didn’t come back that night, and it took everything Tyronian had not to go get her and drag her back. To force her to stay and listen to him, to believe that he loved her. But Leawyn was right, as she often was. He needed to give Namoriee time.
He needed to be patient.
It just about killed him. So, when night turned into morning, and morning turned into afternoon, and she still didn’t come back to him, he was about to lose it.
But just when he was about to go scouring the tribe for her, the door opened, and there she was. He faced her, taking in her disheveled state, her bloodshot eyes, and the heavy bags underneath them. Her appearance told him that she’d gotten just as much sleep as he had.
She looked miserable, but she was still the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
“Namoriee . . .” He winced at the sound of his voice. It sounded like he’d swallowed sand. “You came back.”
She nodded, turning to close the door behind her before she faced him again, taking a step in his direction.
“I was worried that . . .” He stopped, looking down, not wanting to admit it.
“You were worried that I wouldn’t come back,” she finished for him. Her eyes danced across his face, like she was reading every emotion that filtered through and made his expression change.
He only wished he could do the same.
“I almost didn’t,” she said.
He flinched. She didn’t add anything more, just continued to watch him. He was at a loss. He didn’t know what to do about this tension between them. For once, he didn’t know how to handle her. She wasn’t letting him in.
“What happened last night,” he started, searching for the right words. “I never meant to hurt you.” He made sure that he kept eye contact with her, wanting her to believe him, to feel the words deep inside of her.
“I’m sorry, my sweet. But you must know that I kept it a secret to protect you. No one knew the truth except for myself, Xavier, and Tristan. We agreed that it didn’t matter. You became an Izayges that day, and that hasn’t changed. It never will. What Samanthia told you was wrong.”
He got a reaction for that. It was minimal, but there. “Where you come from won’t affect my taking over the Siraces. I don’t know why she said that, but I’m guessing it’s because she was trying to break us apart.” He paused, trying to gauge her reactions, but her expression was carefully blank.
“Something she’s excelling at, it appears,” he said.
Her lips twitched. It could have been a smile, but wasn’t. He inhaled softly, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling her detached approach to their conversation was making him feel.
“When I pictured my future, it didn’t include you. It didn’t include a man who was so possessive that he would marry me to make sure that I did not go with another.”
The sound of her voice was shocking at first. It broke the weird silence between them, but then her words registered, and he instantly felt annoyed.
“How can you possibly doubt me still!” Tyronian exclaimed, throwing his hands up in frustration. “What do you want from me?” His shout was the echo of a man who was at the end of his wit.
“You want me to say I’m sorry, Namoriee? Well I am! I’m sorry. I’m sorry I messed up, Namoriee. You’re right, you deserved to know the truth about your origin, but I didn’t think it mattered because you’re an Izayges, blood or not. Just . . .” He trailed off, his voice desperate. “Tell me what to do to fix this.”
“I want you to admit that you don’t love me!” she snapped.
He was across the room in an instant. His hand gripped her arms with more force than he had ever used before, and he slung her so that her back was against the wall, making her flinch. He lowered his head menacingly.
“You ask the impossible,” he hissed before slamming his lips down onto hers. She gasped, and he used that to push his tongue inside her mouth.
He wasn’t gentle.
He was forceful, angry, and commanding.
He poured all his frustration, hurt, and anger into that kiss. He hurt her lips, the only physical part of her he was willing to abuse. As quickly as it started, it was over. Tyronian wrenched himself away from her and didn’t spare Namoriee another glance.
“Where are you going?” Namoriee asked bleakly. He paused, keeping his back to her.
“I would do anything for you, Namoriee. No matter what you believe, I do love you. But I can’t stay in this room with you a moment more.” His fist clenched when she let out a little strangled sound in response. Maybe he didn’t have the right to be feeling this way. He had hurt her, kept a secret that wasn’t his to begin with. She had a right to be angry with him.
But from the moment they married, she had resisted him for no apparent reason other than the fact that he’d married her. Maybe it was because he had forced her affection when it wasn’t his right to demand it in the first place.
Perhaps he wasn’t as noble as he thought he was.
It was a bitter realization to have, and he knew only one way to rectify it.
“I’ll give you until the snow falls. If you truly believe that your life would be better off without me . . .” he exhaled shakily, “I’ll take over the Siraces, and you will never have to see me again.”
She stayed silent, and with the last bit of dignity he had, he walked out and left his heart at the door with the woman who owned it.
The next day, he was gone. And after a month, he stopped waiting for her to come to him.
She had made her choice, and it wasn’t him.