Namoriee found herself once again perched atop Tyronian’s thighs.
Tomorrow, the visiting warriors were traveling back to their tribe, which meant that tonight was the last day the warriors were dining with the Izayges. Ever since that night with Cantos, Tyronian had made good on his word and ensured that Namoriee wasn’t allowed to serve the meals.
For weeks, he’d made sure that she was always sitting on his lap during the feasts. He especially seemed to enjoy feeding her by hand, which just made her more uncomfortable and mortified.
Luckily, no one paid them much mind.
Well . . . besides Tristan, who always seemed to smirk whenever Tyronian forced her to sit with him.
She was timid by nature, but something about Tristan made her hair stand on end. Though Chief Xavier was scary and intimidating—no one could refute that—Tristan was just as terrifying, if not more.
With Xavier, you knew what to expect. There was a reason he was the most fearsome warrior of their time. He had killed his first man at the tender age of seven, and he had yet to be defeated in battle. Tristan was dangerous in different way.
People didn’t know that much about him. Namoriee knew that he and Tyronian were close, but that was about it. He kept to himself, and didn’t talk unless it was necessary. He was broody and mysterious, with eyes that were ever watchful, constantly taking in his surroundings. It was like he saw everything and knew your secrets with just one look.
But it was what lay inside his brown eyes that frightened her.
They were sharp with intelligence, but they were lifeless. There was a ruthlessness inside of him, and she feared the day that he let it loose. At that moment, the eyes she was contemplating locked onto hers, and she quickly looked down, not able to bear their cold depths.
“Where is my wife?”
Namoriee snapped to attention, looking up. It was her chief who had asked that question. The table grew still at the inquiry, and she could see the anger and annoyance in his face when she didn’t answer him. He turned his full attention to her, and Namoriee subconsciously leaned back into Tyronian’s chest. Tyronian’s hand paused from stroking her hair for a beat before continuing.
“Why isn’t she here, and why aren’t you with her?”
“I-I was, b-but . . .”
Xavier’s eyes flashed, annoyed with her stutter. Namoriee almost wanted to cry because it just made her stutter worse.
“I stole Namoriee away from my dear cousin earlier when they were in your hut,” Tyronian answered calmly, effectively diverting Xavier’s attention from her over to him. “She’s probably still there.”
Xavier stood, leveling her with a dark look. “Your job is to be with her. I can easily find someone else to take your place.” It would crush her if she left Leawyn, and he knew it.
“Yes, C-C-Chief Xavier,” she whispered. She looked down quickly to hide the tears gathering in her eyes.
“The second your little obsession interferes again, she’s gone.”
“Perhaps you should look after your obsession better then, instead of bullying mine.”
Tyronian’s words made her gasp, shocked at the coldness in his tone and the fact that he took that tone with Xavier to stick up for her.
She heard Xavier storm off, and a moment later, a hand was gently tipping her face upwards. Tyronian’s eyes reflected anger, but his touch was gentle.
“I can’t stand to see you cry, my sweet.”
“Why did you do that?” Her tone was shaky.
Tyronian smiled, brushing his thumb underneath her eye as if he were comforting the tears, requesting them not to fall. “You know why, Namoriee. No one gets to talk to you that way, especially in front of me.”
Namoriee looked away first. His stare was too much for her. She couldn’t handle the way it made her feel. She had always been the one to take care of herself; she wasn’t used to someone wanting to protect her. Surprisingly, he let her slide off his lap when she made to leave. He stopped her retreat though when she tried to step away. She looked back at him.
He looked as if he wanted to say something, but after a while when he didn’t, she pulled away and walked off.
She should have paid attention to her surroundings. Maybe then she could have prevented what happened next.
Tyronian watched Namoriee run away from him again. It seemed that’s all she was able to do. He allowed it because he knew that eventually, she wouldn’t be able to escape him.
“She’s weak.”
He turned to look at Tristan, who met his eyes. He had also watched Namoriee’s departure.
“She’s stronger than she thinks,” he replied.
Tristan was silent, then said quietly, “For your sake, I hope you’re right.”
Something in his tone bothered Tyronian, but before he could reply further, Tristan’s chair scraped across the grass as he pushed away from the table.
It seemed that everyone wanted to escape Tyronian’s company tonight.
It didn’t take Tyronian very long to find Namoriee, and when he did, he didn’t like what he saw.
She was in conversation with a man. Judging from the clothes he wore, he wasn’t part of the Izayges. He said something to Namoriee, which caused her to grin. Tyronian’s gaze narrowed, and he felt something hot slithering through him.
He didn’t like that.
Not one bit.
His steps quickened until he was behind her. She jumped when he moved so that his chest pressed against her back. Gripping her hips, he pulled her flush against him.
It was a show of possession, and they knew it.
Tyronian studied the boy in front of him, whom he vaguely recognized. He had brown hair cropped close to his head and green eyes with specks of gold in them. He was wearing Siraces armor.
Tyronian instantly despised him.
“Get lost,” he barked, leveling him with a glare that he reserved for his enemies on the battlefield. As far as Tyronian could tell, this kid wasn’t much different.
Namoriee gasped, no doubt shocked at how rude he was being. She shot an embarrassed, apologetic look at the Siraces, further fueling Tyronian’s temper. He didn’t appreciate that she seemed to care about the Siraces enough to want to excuse his behavior.
He wasn’t a jealous man by nature, but there was something about Namoriee that made the beast inside him roar to life. He wanted her all for himself, and the thought of another taking an interest in his woman made him want to go into a rage.
He didn’t want her to be with anyone else but him, and as far as he was concerned, she didn’t have any business chatting up any other man.
“Don’t make me repeat myself,” Tyronian warned when the boy didn’t move. The Siraces shot a look at him before giving Namoriee a tight smile.
“I’ll see you around, Namoriee.”
“No, you won’t,” Tyronian said.
At the same time, Namoriee said, “B-b-bye T-torrick,” over his words.
Tyronian tensed. They were on a first-name basis?
Torrick shot one more glance at Tyronian before he made his retreat. Tyronian watched him go for a beat, then he whirled Namoriee around and corralled her back until she was against a wall. She looked up at him with wide eyes when his palm slapped against the wood above her ear, and he pushed himself into her space.
“Who was that?” There was no mistaking the jealousy in his voice.
Namoriee’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. He reached up with his other hand to caress her throat, knowing that her nervousness was making it difficult for her to speak.
“Or rather, who is he to you?”
“I-I-I don-t-t know wh-what—”
He drew himself closer to her, dipping his head so that he was eye-level with her.
“I don’t like when my woman escapes my company only to find it with another man,” he interrupted. His tone was silky, but he knew the severity in his words wasn’t hard to miss.
“I’m not your w-w-woman.”
Tyronian grew still at her words, his frown fierce, but whatever he was about to say to her in response was cut off when someone called his name. He turned his head at the sound, scanning the crowd. He watched as Leawyn pushed her way through the throng of people towards them.
She looked panicked.
He glanced back at Namoriee, giving her a warning look that said to stay put. He pushed away from her and met Leawyn halfway.
He could tell by the look on Leawyn’s face that something was seriously wrong.
Namoriee’s feet carried her swiftly and assuredly, easily maneuvering past the drunk and raucous bodies as they celebrated. She had slipped away from Tyronian when he was talking to Leawyn, and Namoriee now found herself aimlessly walking around like a shadow, ignored by the feast’s occupants.
She lost count of all the couples she saw finding pleasure within each other. Some women were being pleasured by two or even four men at a time. That was when Namoriee decided that it would be best to make her way back home.
She thought about Tyronian. She refused to admit that part of the reason she stuck around the feast so long was because she hoped that he would find her again.
She breathed a sigh of relief when the sounds of the celebration grew distant. Her home was one of the huts that was located the farthest from the tribe. She had no neighbors, and her meager living space was surrounded by trees. Most would be aghast to be living where she did, but Namoriee enjoyed her solitude.
She lived close to the waterfall the villagers bathed in, and she found the sound of the water peaceful. She knew that she would miss her little home when Leawyn made her move into a closer hut to better serve her duties.
Her hut was within her sight, and Namoriee mentally calculated if she had enough wood inside to light a fire to keep the chill away. Her musings were brutally cut off when her hair was yanked, forcing her backwards against a hard chest. The rough hand that slapped over her mouth muffled her shriek.
“Did you think you could get away and I wouldn’t notice?”
That voice made her freeze, her stomach bottoming out in fear. Strong hands jerked her around, and her cheek stung by the sharp slap that was delivered before she was roughly shoved to the ground. She struggled as she felt his body on top of her. She looked up into the furious eyes of Cantos as he leered down at her.
“Remember when you embarrassed me in front of my tribesmen, you little bitch? Now that your guard dog isn’t here, I’m gonna take what was denied me.”
Namoriee thrashed wildly when, with one hand, Cantos produced a dagger and proceeded to cut her top in half so that her breasts spilled free, uncaring if the blade cut into her delicate skin. Namoriee’s terror mounted when he dug his knees on either side of her and leaned back, unbuckling his belt.
“Shut up, whore!” he yelled over her screaming, dodging her attempts to claw at his face. She managed to find a small rock and slam it against his temple. His grip loosened, and she managed to get out from under him, but he cursed at her and recovered quickly, dragging her right back. The solid punch he threw made pain explode throughout the left side of her face and almost knocked her unconscious. Cantos used this to his advantage and flipped her over onto her stomach.
“I’ll take you like the bitch you are,” Cantos panted from behind her.
“No, please, please!” Namoriee sobbed desperately when she felt the cool air on her backside and the heat of the skin from Cantos’s erection as he lined it up with her untouched entrance. Her nails dug into the dirt as she desperately tried to crawl away and escape the horror of being raped.
“Damn, you’re tight,” Cantos muttered breathlessly, starting to press into her. “I suppose that’s what happens when you’re not the favored whore, huh?”
“No, please don’t,” Namoriee begged frantically around her sob, thrashing violently. “Please!”
“Feel free to scream. No one will save you,” Cantos hissed viciously into her ear before he pushed forward. Namoriee shrieked at the unwilling stretch as his head pushed inside her.
He pushed his weight into her more, his hips trying to work against the resistance while at the same time trying to contain her. The pain was quickly becoming unbearable. Her cheeks and lips were slick with her tears and saliva. Dirt left a bitter taste in her mouth as it mingled with her tears. All she could think about was how her innocence that she spent years protecting would be taken away from her so ruthlessly.
One more thrust, and he would be completely inside her. Namoriee’s eyes squeezed close, keeping the vision of the blond-haired warrior as he smiled at her close to give her strength to endure what was coming.
Just as suddenly as he appeared, Cantos was yanked off her forcibly. An enraged yell made Namoriee’s eyes snap open. Sounds of a violent struggle met Namoriee’s ears as she dragged herself forward towards the trees, desperate to get away. The sounds of a fight followed her.
A hand on her shoulder made her scream, her hands slapping against her attacker’s face and body blindly as she turned.
“Enough!”
The sharp tone of the familiar voice that accompanied the jerk of her body made Namoriee snap out of her blind terror. She opened her eyes and was shocked to see the hard-faced Tristan.
Her eyes traveled over his wide shoulders to the bloodied, slumped form of her would-be rapist behind them. The realization of what would have happened to her had Tristan not saved her overcame her, and she burst into tears.
Her sobs were ugly and shook her entire body as she gasped for air. She clung to Tristan like a lifeline when he jerked her into his chest. She didn’t put up a fight when he pulled her onto his lap, letting her soak his tunic as he rocked her, murmuring incoherently into her ear to calm her.
Neither of them paid attention to her state of dress.
She didn’t know how long she clung to Tristan, but after a while, her sobs slowed to sniffles, and Tristan gently tilted her chin, forcing her face up to his gaze. Whatever he saw made his eyes burn with ferocity.
He looked murderous.
“I should have killed him,” he muttered, shooting a glare at the slumped form of Cantos.
“H-h-he’s a-alive?”
Tristan turned back to her, his grip on her body tightening as she began to shake. “I would not deny Tyronian his right.”
His reply was so simple, so straight to the point, but they caused panic to bubble up in her throat.
“No!” Namoriee cried, clutching his shoulders. “You cannot tell him!”
Tristan scowled, his grip on her chin becoming painful. “This,” her jaw moved with his frustrated shake, “is not something you can hide, stupid girl!”
Namoriee couldn’t explain it, but the thought of Tyronian finding out what happened to her terrified her.
“Please, T-T-Tristan, he cannot know wh-what happene-d-d here!”
“I don’t know what has come over my kin as of late,” Tristan said as he pushed her off him and shot to his feet, disgusted. “Why they waste their time on foolish girls is beyond me.”
Namoriee flinched at his insult, but she kept eye contact with him. “Please,” she whispered. “Don’t t-tell him. I couldn’t bear it.”
Tristan was silent, but his expression displayed his anger and aversion. She watched as he started to walk away from her.
“Wait!” Namoriee cried out, scrambling to her feet. “W-what a-b-bout—”
Tristan whirled back around to face her, furious. “Do you really think I would just leave him here?”
He didn’t wait for her reply, instead, Namoriee watched as he grabbed Cantos’s bloody form by the foot and started to drag him away.
“Tristan!”
He stopped, exhaling angrily as he glanced over his shoulder at her.
“Thank you,” she choked out tearfully. She wasn’t thanking him for his silence.
Tristan’s only response was to turn away and disappear out of her sight.