A pounding on her door jolted her awake. Fear made her heart beat in a frantic tempo.
Was it Cantos? Did he somehow find out where she lived?
She cursed at herself. What a ridiculous thought. If it was Cantos, he wouldn’t be banging on the door.
“Namoriee, open the door!”
Torrick. Oh, Goddess, he couldn’t see her like this! He’d immediately want to know what happened, and she couldn’t tell him.
“I mean it! I haven’t seen you all morning. Open this door!”
She’d been hiding out in her hut, waiting for her swelling to go down. Which it wasn’t doing. Would he even believe her if she told him his fellow tribesman had beat and tried to rape her? Another bang on the door startled her.
“Namoriee, if you don’t open this door, I’m going to kick it in.”
He meant it, too.
“C-C-Coming!” She winced. Her voice was too high-pitched. It would give her away, and he’d know something was wrong.
Torrick paused, and Namoriee knew she was right; she was running out of time.
“I’m coming in.”
“No, don’t—!”
She shrieked when the door went flying, wood splintering in all directions. Torrick stepped in, and it didn’t take him long to locate her in the room. She clutched her robe tighter to herself and watched as the shock fled from his expression and was replaced with wrath.
“Who did this to you?” Torrick demanded, standing in front of her in four angry strides.
“Torrick, it’s n-n-nothin—”
“No!” he barked out. “Don’t try to lie. Who did this?”
She shook her head, wincing when he gingerly gripped her chin to tilt her head up more towards the light.
“I’m gonna kill them,” Torrick growled. Namoriee had never heard him so furious.
Usually, Torrick had a demeanor much like Tyronian’s. Every time she would travel with Aggod and visit the Siraces, he was easygoing, flirtatious, and always making her laugh. He smiled often and liked to tease her relentlessly. But looking at him now, she saw mercilessness in his eyes. She saw his warrior side, the dark beast he censored around her.
“Tell me now,” he commanded. His tone was not any less harsh, but she could tell he was trying to calm himself to persuade her into revealing who her attacker was. “Who did this to you, beautiful?”
Namoriee shook her head, feeling close to tears. “I cannot tell you.” He pulled away with an angry shout and she cried out, “I’m sorry!”
“Why are you protecting this bastard?” he yelled. “He deserves to be punished!”
“Yes, b-but not b-by you, Torrick.”
In a flash, his expression changed, and she wondered what she said to have put that look there.
“That’s it, isn’t it?” he said with soft malice. “That’s why you don’t want to tell me.”
“I-I . . .” She took a hesitant step back when he took a purposeful one forward.
“It was the blond, from last night.”
The one eye she was able to fully open widened.
“W-w-what?” she spluttered. “N-no! Torrick, you h-have it w-wrong!”
“Stop lying to me!” Torrick thundered, a vein protruding from his forehead. “I saw the way he looked at you!”
“No, T-torrick, please l-l-listen—”
“I’m going to kill him,” he seethed, and her panic doubled with fear when he started to march for the door.
“No!” she cried hysterically, grabbing his arm to stop him, but he shook her off easily.
“It wasn’t him! Please don’t go!”
But he wasn’t listening, and Namoriee watched hopelessly as he stormed away.
She didn’t have to worry about Tristan keeping his promise—Torrick was going to confront Tyronian, which will lead him here. She couldn’t face Tyronian, not yet. She’ll have to hide out at Leawyn’s.
Tyronian jerked awake when his door crashed open. On instinct, his hand immediately went to his sword he kept beside his bed. When the face of the intruder cut through his bleary mind, he couldn’t say that he relaxed any less.
“What do you want?”
Torrick stood there, his eyes spitting with rage. “Did you do that to her?”
Tyronian’s brow arched when Torrick followed up that question by taking a threatening step towards him.
“What are you on about?” he sighed, already bored with the conversation. Torrick stomped over to him, his face blotchy-red with anger.
“Did you do that to Namoriee?” Torrick yelled.
At the mention of Namoriee, Tyronian’s whole demeanor changed. Before Torrick could react, Tyronian had him by the throat and in the air, his toes barely skimming the floor.
“You better start talking, otherwise you won’t be talking at all,” he bit out threateningly. Torrick gripped the hand that was holding onto his throat and croaked.
Tyronian barely loosened his grip—just enough for Torrick’s face to turn a more natural color.
“She was attacked.” Torrick’s eyes were glaring daggers at him. “The last person she was with was—”
“Me,” Tyronian answered grimly. He released his grip and stepped away. “I would never hurt Namoriee.”
“Forgive me if I don’t believe you,” Torrick scoffed, rubbing his throat gingerly.
“You don’t have to believe me,” he said evenly. “What you need to do is tell me what your relationship with Namoriee is.”
“I don’t need to tell you anything.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” he replied coldly. “Perhaps you didn’t quite get it last night, but Namoriee is mine. Therefore, whatever you think you have with her—you don’t. Understand?”
“She’s not yours, and from what I’ve seen so far, she doesn’t want to be. You have no claim on her.”
Tyronian’s expression grew dark. “Don’t play with me, little boy,” he growled, stepping into Torrick’s space to glare down at him. “I might be handsome, and charming, and pretty much the best damn thing in this land, but I will kill anyone who gets in my way and messes with what’s mine.”
“Why?” Torrick taunted. “Afraid of some competition?”
Tyronian made a point of surveying Torrick, his grin arrogant. “There is none.”
“We’ll see!” Torrick called out to Tyronian’s back as he trailed to his door.
“You better be out of my hut before my return,” was all Tyronian said in response, then slammed the door closed.
“Little bastard,” Tyronian muttered wryly. His humor was short lived, however, because he was reminded why Torrick had felt the need to barge into his hut. Someone had hurt Namoriee, and that made him livid.
The fact that he was not the first person to know about it worsened his mood.
He had told Namoriee repeatedly that he would look after her. Protect her. Yet, when someone hurt her, she felt no need to come find him.
He was an easygoing man, and he knew that his Namoriee was like a newborn deer; skittish and unwilling to trust. It was why Tyronian handled her so delicately. Today, however, Namoriee needed to learn a valuable lesson.
By the time he reached Leawyn’s hut (where he knew Namoriee was because she was too stubborn not to fulfill her duties), he had talked himself into such a state that he was fuming. The door crashed against the wall as he stalked through, his entire point of focus on the petite form that was Namoriee. She jumped up from Leawyn’s bed and backed away from him. He completely ignored her raised hand meant to ward him off, hefted her up, and brought her close to his face.
“You will show me who did this to you, and you will do it now.”
“Tyronian . . .” Leawyn said to him cautiously, coming to stand beside him. He didn’t spare her a glance.
“This does not concern you, cousin.”
Namoriee’s eyes flickered over his shoulder, which wasn’t acceptable to him. He jolted her, bringing her attention back to him.
“Show me, and after, we’ll have a talk about why I had to hear about your attack from a fellow warrior and was not notified by you personally.”
“What happens to me is not your concern,” Namoriee said, glaring at him mutinously.
“You are mine, Namoriee,” he said, and Namoriee’s moment of strong will disappeared into uncertainty at his predatory tone. “Everything that happens to you is my concern.”
Namoriee’s struggles renewed when he swung her around in his arms and stalked back to the door.
“Where are you taking her?” Leawyn spluttered.
“Namoriee has someone to show me, and then she’s going back with me to my hut. Don’t expect her again today.”
“No!” Namoriee shouted right as Tyronian shut the door. He ignored her struggles as he carried her away.
It was time for Namoriee to learn what happened to bad little girls.
“Where are we going?” Namoriee cried, still fruitlessly trying to free herself. His grip was tight, strong, and unyielding. She huffed a frustrated breath.
This was useless, and they were starting to attract attention that she didn’t want.
“Tyronian, put me down!” she hissed, continuing in her struggles. He answered with a chuckle.
“Why would I want to do that? So you can run away again? Not happening, my sweet.”
“I won’t!”
She totally would.
More and more people stopped to stare at them as they passed, their looks varying from amusement to disapproval. The worst, in Namoriee’s opinion, were the looks the warriors shot her way. They were pointing and laughing with that heated, knowing look in their eyes that made her uncomfortable and panicky.
“Stop calling me that! I’m not your sweet, nor your property! I never will be. You have no right to manhandle me like this. So put. Me. Down!”
Abruptly, Tyronian changed directions, storming into the first hut he came across. “Out!” he barked at someone, and Namoriee lifted her head to see Tristan, a slow grin forming on his face.
“Did someone misbehave?” Tristan asked, amusement heavy in his voice.
Oh Goddess, did he just say that? she thought in mortification.
“Out,” Tyronian repeated, his voice a growl.
Tristan took his time leaving, calling over his shoulder as he made his way to the door, “Don’t leave a mess.”
No sooner than the door shut, Namoriee found herself spun around with her back pressed against the wall. Tyronian’s eyes were blazing when they stared into hers. She squeaked when he grasped her thighs and hauled her up so that her mouth was level with his when he leaned forward, his pelvis pressing against her.
“What—?”
His lips slammed down onto hers. It was rough, demanding, and so unbelievably possessive that it knocked the breath out of her. This kiss was ownership. He was marking her as his, and damned if she said so otherwise. His teeth nipped her bottom lip, and she gasped at the short sting of pain, which he used to his advantage to push his tongue into her mouth.
After pulling away, Tyronian said, “I’m getting a little tired of repeating myself, but seeing as you need yet another reminder, I guess I’ll tell you again.” He reached up to tangle his fist in her hair and tilted her head back. “You. Are. Mine,” he said slowly, possessively. “Everything about you is my responsibility, Namoriee, everything. Which means that if something happens to you, I need to know about it. You’re mine to protect.”
She shook her head in denial. “You said—”
“I said I would wait until you’re older, which I will,” he interrupted, and she whimpered when he pressed his body into hers more.
She could feel him against her most intimate place, the flimsy fabric of her dress doing nothing to protect her from the heat of him. Unlike with Cantos, she didn’t feel terror when Tyronian forced her body to contact his suggestively.
“Just because I’m waiting for you, doesn’t change the fact you’re mine. Your body, your wellbeing, and eventually, your heart, is for me to own. Everyone accepts it but you. Why?”
“You took my first kiss,” Namoriee whispered in lieu of answering, dazed.
He let go of her hair long enough to tuck a stray strand behind her ear, his eyes on her mouth as he trailed his fingers down to trace her lips that were swollen from his kiss.
“I’m going to take your first everything, Namoriee,” he told her huskily, though he said the words with gentleness.
He met her eyes again, and Namoriee’s heart seized at the heat in his gaze. His blue eyes were like liquid fire, scorching every part of her.
“You have two winters,” he told her. “Then you’re mine.”
“So, I’m just supposed to be your whore until you tire of me?” she disparaged, pointedly ignoring the tear that trailed down her cheek.
“No, Namoriee,” he said quietly, wiping her tear away with his thumb gently. “You’re far too precious for that.”
She shuddered when he gently thrust his hips up, pressing his erection against her core and bringing the fire inside her to life with the slow buildup of pleasure.
“I’ll never tire of you,” he assured, trailing a hand down Namoriee’s side and to her leg, pulling her dress up slowly, exposing her thigh inch by inch. She gasped in shock when she felt his fingers brush against her naked skin, a trail of fire following as he moved his fingers up, until they were hovering there.
“I owe you a reminder. Maybe this way, you’ll learn better. I might be waiting for you, Namoriee, but that doesn’t mean I can’t take a few of your firsts now.”
He bent, rubbing his nose along her neck so that she had to tilt her head back as he inhaled deeply. She shuddered when he nipped her ear, swirling his tongue inside. She arched her back at the sensation, barely catching his words.
“Mine.”
He brushed his thumb against her main point of pleasure right as he pushed one thick finger inside her. She braced herself, waiting for the same pain that Cantos had caused, but it never came. He wasn’t deep, barely an inch in, but her body was still unused to the intrusion and tender.
She moaned the stretch, her hips arching up as he started a slow tempo, pushing his finger in and out of her gently, so gently, while his thumb kept a constant pressure against where she was the most sensitive.
“You’re so wet and smooth. I can’t wait to claim you. To feel you wrapped around my cock, squeezing tight as I take you. I’m gonna consume you, Namoriee.”
She moaned at his dirty words that both scared and excited her. She clawed his shoulders while he rested his cheek against hers, his heavy, excited breathing blowing into her ear.
“You’re so tight,” he groaned. “I can feel your body fighting against me. But I will prevail, because this body is mine, and I’m going to watch your eyes cloud over in pleasure. Feel your muscles tightening as I make you find release. I want to feel your sweet cream slide over my fingers, just so I can taste you. I want that first, Namoriee, and you’re going to give it to me.”
Namoriee had no idea what he was talking about, but at that moment she didn’t care because that was the exact moment that he pushed just a little bit deeper, curling his finger and pressing his thumb hard against her clitoris in rapid succession. It all became a blur after that. All Namoriee felt was a continuous amount of pleasure.
It was shooting from her most intimate of places, and the feeling of his finger moving inside her was too much. Before she knew what was happening, the fire that was building within her like an inferno exploded, and she was lost in the heat. She cried out as her body seized, going stiff as stars exploded behind her eyes.
“That’s it, my sweet. That’s a good girl,” he groaned in her ear as her internal muscles clenched around his fingers.
She was still shuddering from the aftershocks of whatever that was when she opened her eyes. They widened when he held his hand up, the clear substance on the digits making them glisten.
He brought his fingers to his mouth.
“Don’t—” she protested weakly, but it was too late. He kept eye contact as he placed them inside his mouth and licked them clean.
“Beautiful,” he murmured when he was done. She should be disgusted, but the sight was so erotic that she wasn’t. It embarrassed her when she felt another pool of arousal at her center.
She looked down to see the same stuff that was on his fingers trailing down her inner thighs slowly. She gulped, looking back up. She felt another bout of embarrassment when she saw that his eyes were following the same trail. His blue gaze was smoldering when he looked back up at her.
“Looks like I need to clean you up.” He sounded pleased.
She didn’t know what to say, so she stayed silent and instead just nodded her head meekly in agreement. His eyes flashed, and he grinned naughtily at her. It was the only warning Namoriee had before she found herself once again airborne as he carried her, laying her on her back on Tristan’s bed.
“Tyronian, don’t. This is Tristan’s hut . . .”
“Shush, Namoriee,” he ordered, and Namoriee’s eyes widened when he jerked her legs apart so that he could settle between them. “I need to clean you up.” He grinned cheekily at her, then he bent, nestling his head between her thighs, and did exactly what he said he would do. He cleaned her up.
With his tongue.