How They Fell: A Falling Warriors Novella Read online

  “She’s different. She’s been different ever since…” she stopped, her face paling in fear. But she didn’t have to finish because he knew what she was going to say. He felt the familiar fury fill him when he thought of before. Of the night that Leawyn saved his life.

  The monster inside of him relished in Namoriee’s fear, which he could plainly see when he took a threatening step toward her. He had never understood his wife’s friendship with this girl; Leawyn was so much stronger than her. Namoriee was weak, and easily scared. She kept her head down, content to float through life as invisible as possible. But then he started to understand why Leawyn kept her in her company throughout their marriage.

  Namoriee was loyal, and showed silent strength that differed from Leawyn’s. Namoriee was a dog in a den of wolves. She showed teeth and could bite just as hard when put into a corner.

  Her swallow was audible, and though she trembled ever so slightly, her wide-eyed gaze didn’t shy from his, nor did she step back even when he crowded into her space.

  He had to respect that.

  “You were going to say his name, weren’t you?”

  Mutely, she nodded.

  “You are aware that I forbade his name to ever be spoken, are you not?” He snarled.

  “Then I s-s-suppose that it is a g-g-good thing I didn’t say it a-aloud, then.”

  He covered his shock at her cheek by keeping his glare steady. Her eyes widened as if she herself couldn’t believe she snarked him. He stared her down a moment longer, then showed her his back when he turned away, effectively dismissing her.

  “You may leave now.”

  She hesitated, then “What about Leawyn?”

  He glanced over at her. “I will handle my wife.” It was an ominous promise, and she knew it.

  Her expression shuttered, and she didn’t argue, because she knew she couldn’t. Instead, she gave him a respectful nod and hurried out of his sight.

  He plopped back down on his chair, running a hand through his hair in his frustration. A part of him had held hope that he was simply overeating, that his guilt had somehow made him see Leawyn differently. But Namoriee coming to him just confirmed that he wasn’t wrong.

  She changed.

  Her light was dimming. Like a flicker of a candle struggling to withstand the wind.

  He was losing her.

  He swore to fight for her.

  But…how could he fight a ghost?

  Leawyn didn’t know what the Izayges were like before her and Xavier got married, but when she looked across all the smiling and happy faces as they ate and danced inside of the newly built dining hut, she couldn’t imagine a time with anything less that what she saw right at this moment.

  “He’s a p-pig.”

  She turned to Namoriee who had spoken, following her line of sight. She understood what caused her scorn immediately.

  “He’s Tyronian. Pig wouldn’t exactly be my first choice.”

  Namoriee leveled her a look. “Who’s s-s-side are you on anyways?”

  She held back her smile. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think you’re jealous, Namoriee.”

  Namoriee’s expression pinched, as if the very notion made her feel sick. But Leawyn wasn’t fooled. She looked back to Tyronian, who valiantly tried to hide the fact his eyes weren’t already glued to them by turning his attention to the sandy-brunette sitting on his lap.

  She glanced at Namoriee discretely and, just as she thought she thought, she was watching Tyronian, too.

  “You could go over to him,” Leawyn said, catching Namoriee’s attention. “I’m sure he would much rather have you on his lap.”

  “I’ve already sat on his lap,” she deadpanned. “It was m-mortifying.”

  She didn’t say anything more, and once she helped settle her into her chair, she left; walking in a different direction than they came in.

  Leawyn couldn’t say she was surprised when the girl on Tyronian’s lap was called away by Tanna and redirected to a different man.

  Not jealous, Namoriee had said.

  Leawyn laughed.

  For the what seemed to be the umpteenth time, Leawyn surveyed the room. Almost everyone was done with their meal; content to bask in the company of their tribesmen and the willing women who warmed the men's laps. She glanced at the plate on her right that was still filled with food that she had saved for her husband.

  Where is he? She thought, gnawing on her bottom lip in worry.

  More time passed, and just when she was about to pack up his meal to search for him, he walked in. She watched him scan the place, knowing that he was taking everything in with a vivid eye that was second nature to him. She had no doubt that he was making note of every person, every exit, every potential threat. Even if they were in times of what seemed like peace, Xavier was always on the alert. Peace didn’t exist for him, and she knew, deep in her bones, that the only time he would ever find true peace was in his death.

  His eyes landed on her, and she didn’t try and hide the shudder that went through her. Xavier’s eyes could be the thing of nightmares, or the thing of dreams. In the beginning, his eyes scared her. How he looked at people.. it was like staring into vacant depths. No fear. No victory. No emotion.

  Warrior eyes.

  But then, there was something else. Something…primal. With just one look, he could make her pulse spike. The darkness that always brewed inside the irises, turned into a fire that she swore she could feel directly inside of womb when directed at her.

  His stare didn’t waver even as he started his prowl toward her. A slow crawl of pleasure slithered through her body, starting from her toes and moving up. By the time he was in front of her, she was practically panting.

  “Leawyn,” he said, his voice a natural gruttal timber. She had to tilt her head back to look him in the eye. His perusal of her was naturally seductive with its familiarity. He knew every inch of her body. Knew every spot to touch to inflict both pain, and pleasure.

  She licked her lips, her mouth suddenly gone dry with her arousal. He watched her tongue glide against the plumpness, and she revelled in how his pupils dilated. His eyes lifted and met her own.

  It was ludicrous, really. How he easily he could turn her on with just one look.

  “Xavier.”

  He smirked, knowing that the tremor in her response wasn’t because of fear. He slid an escaped tendril of her hair behind her ear. Her hair was so long now, it cascaded past her buttucks. Too long a length for the heat of the day, so she had tied it up with leather so that it was off her neck.

  He nudged his chin at the plate of food. “You eat?”

  “I was saving that for you.”

  He nodded once, then reached for her hand. It was enormous compared to her own. She stood, rounding the table to him. His long legs ate up the distance, drawing them away from the dining hut, and the main tier of the village. She didn’t question him, simply content to follow him.

  “Xavier,” she said quietly. He was walking too fast, and it was hard for her to keep up. Mid-stride he turned, reaching for her. She giggled when he swept her up, cradling her against his chest. She drew his mouth to hers, groaning quietly when his tongue ruined the chances of her kiss being sweet by entwining with her own. They continued to kiss as he carried her until she was certain that she was going to die just from the need.

  Rushing water met her ears, and she smiled against his mouth, their destination apparent. She pulled away from their kiss to look at the waterfall that the village used to bathe.

  She turned to him. “You trying to tell me I stink?”

  He chuckled quietly, setting her down on her feet. He stepped back, and she felt his stare like it was a caress.

  “Strip.”

  The command brought forth a memory. He had ordered her to do the same once, in this exact location. She shivered, but instead of feeling the need to meet the challenge in his eyes like last time, all she felt was giddiness. She quickly complied, enjoying how each arti
cle of clothing she removed affected him. When she stood shamelessly naked in front of him, she looked to him for direction. He tilted his head down at himself, his voice husky when he ordered, “take my clothes off.”

  Greedily, she complied. Xavier very rarely wore a shirt, so it took her no time at all to relieve him of his belt and pants, bearing his erection. She cupped it, running her hands down the base and up so that her thumb could brush against the head. He hissed out a breath, his eyes closing in enjoyment. She played with him for awhile until he gripped her wrist, stilling her.

  He hauled her up his body only with one arm, making her equally amazed and aroused at his brute strength. Her legs wrapped around his trim waist, her lips molding to his while he walked them into the water. When he was in waist deep, he pulled away from their kiss to stare into her eyes.

  “Don’t abuse your head-start.”

  She frowned. “What?”

  At his smirk, her eyes widened. “Xavier don’t you dar—” she cut off with a scream when he launched her in the air, tossing her into the lake. She came up with a gasp, throwing water at his laughing form.

  “You bastard!” She screamed at him, laughing.

  “Better start swimming,” he called out to her. She shrieked when he dived into the water and started to swim to the waterfall as fast as she could. She climbed up the first rock, scrambling her way up. She squealed when he snatched her up mid-climb, throwing her over his shoulder as he climbed the rest of the way, carrying her. She was still giggling when he set her down on her feet, encompassing her waist with his hands. He pulled her close, his laughing eyes staring down into her own.

  “Do you remember the first time we came here together?”

  They were standing on a large, flat rock that was slick with water and splattered with moss. A smaller waterfall was behind them, the leftover trickle of the massive one in front of them that cascaded down into the lake below.

  “Yes,” she replied, her hand gilded and dipped over the contours of the muscles in his arm. Her smile was soft with the memory and pain. “It was the night you were attacked.”

  His head tilted at her answer, a question in his eyes. He wanted to know why she left out the real reason she had dragged him here that night. He gripped her waist tighter, not quite painful, but enough to let her know that he was displeased with her without having to utter the words.

  It was silent between them, the only noise coming from the waterfall in front of them. She could feel him watching her, but like a coward, she couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze. She was frustrated with herself. A plethora of emotions battled with her heart and mind everyday. She wanted her husband so much. Craved his attention, his touch––both inflicting and tender––wanted to just be with him without the tension of impending battle and doom. It’s been months since the war, yet…

  Don’t make me do this.

  You won’t shoot me, Lea.

  She closed her eyes, fighting a shudder.

  “I think it was here that I started to realize I was falling in love with you. Though at the time, I didn’t know the meaning of the word.”

  Her eyes flew open in surprise.

  “Here?”

  He nodded. “I threatened you. I was covered in blood, but you had looked at me like no else had. You didn’t fear me...you didn’t recoil in disgust. You simply accepted me, even knowing that there was blood of someone’s life staining my hands. Accepted me knowing that I was a killer. That night changed everything for me, Leawyn.”

  He lifted her chin with his thumb and cupped the side of her face.

  “You saw the monster, and you saw the man. That night I saw you more than just my wife...I saw you as an ally.”

  She didn’t realize a tear had slipped her eye until he caught it with his thumb, banishing its existence with a swipe of her cheek. He stepped closer to her, his hand still cupping her cheeks. He started at her heavily, a hidden message there filled with silent declarations and pleas.

  “Tell me what’s wrong.”

  “There’s nothing wrong.” It was a blatant lie.

  “I don’t believe you,” he whispered, nuzzling her brow. She reached up, standing on her tiptoes and clutched his neck. She slid her hands into his hair that was wild, and unkempt—just like him.

  “You don’t have to believe me,” she whispered back. “You just have to trust me.”

  She shuddered in desire when he spun her around. Her hands slapped on the wet rocks the same time he tugged her back by her hair, arching her neck.

  “You want me to trust you?” He growled. “Yet you don’t do the same. There are no secrets between us, Leawyn. Your secrets are mine. Your truths are mine. Your dreams, and your nightmares. Everything. Is. Mine.”

  He accentuated his words with a thrust of his hips, impaling himself deep inside her. Her spine zinged with pleasure, and she groaned at the stretch. Water cascaded over her, between her breasts, over her peaked nipples, and down her navel. Xavier gripped her neck with just enough pressure to remind her how destructive his hands could be if he wanted. His thumb pushed past her lips on her moan, thrusting inside her throat in tandem with his hips, making her gag the slightest bit. His other hand snaked around her waist and traveled down, past the corse, blonde curls and into the treasure only he had the map to. She whimpered when he parted her folds, his thumb pressing against her slick, swollen nub.

  One touch; teasing.

  Two; assertive.

  Three; demanding.

  Then, he pinched her, shocking her. Hurting her. Pleasing her.

  It was too much.

  She came on a gargled scream around his limb still inside her throat. Xavier thrust inside of her harder, his skin slapping against her own. The thrusts weren’t brutal—he’s taken her far worse. Deeper and more painful—but they were relentless, making her gasp for breath. Her legs were shaking, struggling not to buckle. His hand left her mound to grab her inner-thigh tight enough to leave bruises, lifting her leg high, and out so that she was balancing on one leg.

  It made him go deeper, stroking the spot inside her that made her wonton.

  “Xavier!”

  “You got something to say to me?”

  She shook her head, expression pinched. She couldn’t tell him, because she was afraid to admit her weakness.

  “Then silence. Not another word from you, Leawyn.”

  She moaned, nails scraping against the stone. It felt like days as he pounded into her from behind, his hands alternating between gripping her nape, and her waist. Twice now, he had flicked her clitoris, strumming and priming her for an orgasm, only to pull away each time she was about to climax. When he did it a third time, she screamed out her frustration. He was punishing her.

  “Please,” she whimpered.

  Xavier grew still, and with horror she realized what she did.

  She spoke.

  “Naughty girl,” he hissed in her ear. Then she was spun around, forced to her knees. Her mouth spread wide around his thick length when he pushed into her mouth fluidly, the tip going deep and activating her gag reflex. It seemed so brutal, but his movements were slow. He took her mouth like it was his salvation, and her penance.

  “Swallow every drop,” he panted, thrusted harder, desperately.

  Her eyes stung––both from tears, and the water that trickled from her temple––and her head hit the rock every so often with each movement of his hips. Xavier reached down, grabbed either side of her head, and yanked her to him so that her chin was flush against his sac. His cock jerked, then come jetted down her throat. She choked, trying to swallow around him. Xavier groaned, keeping her captive until every last drop was expelled. Only then did he pull away, and his hands became gentle. He looked down at her, lids heavy and sated.

  “Open your mouth, pretty girl.”

  She did, knowing what he was checking. When he was satisfied, he bent, picking her up.

  “You don’t get to come tonight. Do you know why?”

  Sh
e nodded her head, but at his disapproving look, she stopped. “Because I spoke.”

  He shook his head, and her confusion must have shown. “You don’t get to come because you chose to hide from me, instead of confide in me. And Leawyn?” She lifted her gaze from over his shoulder. Their eyes met.

  “I know something is wrong, but I won’t push you. But know this.” He picked her up by her arms, bringing them nose to nose. He smoothed back her wet hair, gripping the tresses. His eyes were bottomless pools of dark soil compared to her ocean blues.

  “You can’t hide from me forever. My monster is bigger and meaner than yours and it will drag yours out kicking and screaming if it has to. That’s not a threat—it’s a promise."

  She knew it, too. Her time was limited.

  Weeks had passed since their time at the lake, and Leawyn and Xavier found themselves spending more time apart by chance. Tyronian had been sent on a mission to the Siraces tribe, while Xavier was away on some mysterious business he didn’t feel the need to disclose to Leawyn.

  Something they had fought about, which had left her in a miserable mood for days. Namoriee––bless her––noticed this and had suggested that they go on a ride together.

  Desperate to go out, she had agreed. Leawyn had missed being able to just ride for pleasure, the last few months had been so desperate, so quick. They rode for a purpose, for survival. She missed the days where she felt free, with the wind in her hair and the trust of her mare as they explored life together.

  Namoriee was on a buckskin mare, who easily kept pace with them as they charged forward. Leawyn looked over at her, shooting her a matching smile before she steered Deydrey to the left, Namoriee and her horse following. Gradually, they slowed their pace until they both were walking leisurely side by side. They stopped atop the cliff in the woods that had a birds-eye view of their village.

  They sat in companionable silence for a bit, until Leawyn sighed.

  “Out with it, Namoriee.”