How The Warrior Fell (Falling Warriors series Book 1) (20 page)

“Grab ‘er!”

Another pair of hands held Leawyn’s wrists down so the man on top of her could shimmy down her body. He grabbed her thighs and spread them open, resting his body between them.

“Now you fight and I’ll actually enjoy it!” the man leered, reaching down with one hand to unbuckle his belt and pull down his pants.

“No!” Leawyn’s heart seized in horror at the realization of what he intended to do to her. She renewed her struggle.

“I want a turn afta’ ya!” the man holding her wrists down said. Her soon-to-be rapist laughed his agreement as he positioned himself. Leawyn felt sick when his arousal brushed her inner thigh.

She squeezed her eyes shut—refusing to look into his eyes and give him any kind of enjoyment of his deed. She felt the stiffness of him brush against her opening. Leawyn bit her lip hard enough to draw blood, determined not to make a sound. The tip started to push inside her.

Shouts of alarm rang out. Suddenly, the man on top of her was roughly yanked off her and thrown across the room.

Leawyn’s eyes flew open, and she stared in shock at the man before her.

“A
STEN!” LEAWYN YELLED
, sprinting through the trees as tears clouded her eyes.

“Asten!” she called again, her voice cloaked with fear and desperation.

“Lea? What is it? What’s wrong?” Asten asked in concern. He stumbled back a step when Leawyn flung herself into his arms, clinging to him desperately and soaking his tunic quickly with her sobs.

“Lea?” Asten asked in alarm, though his voice was as gentle as his arms when he wrapped them around her and rubbed her back.

“What’s wrong?” Asten whispered in her ear. His only answer was for her to clench her hands tighter around his tunic, making her knuckles turn white.

“I-I—” Leawyn tried, but couldn’t seem to speak around her gut-wrenching sobs.

“Shh, calm down,” Asten whispered soothingly. He continued to rub her back. “It’s okay, you’re okay.”

“No!” Leawyn croaked, tilting her face up so she could meet his eyes.

“I-I’m not okay! Everything isn’t okay!” Leawyn sobbed brokenly, her eyes shining as they overflowed with tears that made her eyelashes clump together.

“What happened?”

Leawyn’s lip trembled, and Asten caught a tear with his thumb, only for it to miss another. “My father he—” Leawyn sobbed, bowing her head.

Asten moved his hands so they were holding each of her cheeks, forcing her head up so he could stare down at her.

“He what?” Asten prompted.

“He’s making me marry him,” Leawyn whispered.

Asten froze, his grip on her cheeks tightening in his shock.

“He’s making me marry the chief of the Izayges!” Leawyn crumbled around him, and he stiffly but gently tugged her back into his chest and held her as she cried.

They both stood there, Leawyn sobbing into the arms of her childhood friend, knowing this would soon be the last time they would ever be together.

T
HE MAN IN
front of her was tall and fit. His thick arms were curled around the man who was just moments before on top of her, holding him by his neck so high her attacker’s feet skimmed the ground.

Her rescuer’s hair was cut short, except for the mop of curly hair on top.

“Asten?” Leawyn breathed when the man in question glanced at her, and she looked into the hazel eyes that haunted her dreams.

Asten tilted his head in slight acknowledgment before his furious eyes turned to her attacker. His gaze narrowed, and he snarled as he dug his fingers into the man’s throat, causing him to choke.

“The lady said no,” Asten told him calmly, but his voice was thick with malice. Leawyn’s attacker’s eyes widened, his face flushed from the lack of oxygen. “I-I-I’m s-so—”

“I’m not interested in excuses,” Asten snarled, and without a second thought, he quickly crushed the man’s windpipe with a sickening crunch.

Leawyn let out a strangled scream when Asten dropped the dead body to the ground, his eyes forever frozen wide with shock and fear.

Leawyn looked away from the corpse and back up to her childhood friend as he positioned himself in front of her. He pulled out his wickedly curved sword, pointing it to the men still gathered around.

Asten looked over his shoulder down at her, his eyes flashing.

“Run,” he ordered before he swung his blade up and cut off the arm of the closest man standing next to him.

Leawyn screamed again as the men all around her charged at Asten, who quickly matched their attacks with a viciousness she’d never seen from him before.

Leawyn quickly stood to follow his advice when she saw one come at Asten from behind.

“Asten!” Leawyn yelled out in warning and, without thinking, swiped a dagger from a recent corpse and threw it forward.

Asten swung around with his sword poised above him, but faltered when a knife suddenly protruded through the throat of his potential attacker, who then fell at his feet.

He looked at Leawyn, bewildered. She felt just as shocked as he looked. “I thought I told you to run?” Asten quipped.

“I . . .” Leawyn trailed off when more shouts sounded out behind her—shouts of pain and fear.

Since Asten was here with her, Leawyn knew only one other man who could cause a reaction like that.

“Xavier,” she sighed in relief. Turning her head, she addressed her first savior. “Asten, my husband is—”

Leawyn choked on her words, eyes taking in the space where Asten had been standing.

He was gone.

Xavier snarled when he saw the blurs of men in front of him. His vision turned red in his rage. He didn’t feel when he threw himself off his wife’s mare and tackled the first man he saw. Xavier pulled his arm back and sent his fist sailing into the man’s face. The blow instantly killed him by breaking the nose and pushing the fractured bone into his brain. It was less than a second before he was on to the next man and swiftly cut the head off his body.

Xavier was a flurry of motion, his sword stained red with blood as he ruthlessly cut down every man who came between him and his wife. He didn’t flinch or feel the blood that splattered on his face and armor. His rage was all-consuming, and it was no time at all until he stood outside of a crudely made tent.

Xavier felt his gut clench. His instinct told him his prize was inside that tent.

Six pairs of eyes met Xavier when he walked inside. They all had their swords and daggers pointed at him, but Xavier paid them no mind. His sole focus was on his wife and the man holding a sword to her throat.

“Put yer sword down or I’ll cut ‘er!” the man holding Leawyn hostage ordered crudely, tightening his grip on his wife.

Xavier glanced over Leawyn. He took in her split lip, every cut and bruise on her beautiful body and face, and the fact that her hair was matted to her cheek by her blood. Her shoulder was hanging at an odd angle, and he knew it was dislocated. He was instantly filled with more rage.

“Release her.” His growl was almost inhuman.

The man holding his wife trembled with fear. Rightfully so. Xavier knew he was a sight to see covered in blood from head to toe. His shiny gold and black armor was now completely red, and his long hair stuck together with both sweat and blood. One strand was literally dripping with it. His face was specked with blood, but none of it his. He felt every bit the scary warrior the stories made him out to be.

“I said drop it!” her captor yelled again. He jerked Leawyn by her hair and arched her throat so that it was right on top of the blade; a thin trail of blood pooled and slid off the gleaming steel.

Xavier stiffened, his eyes zeroing in on his wife’s dripping blood. He looked back up.

“Wrong move,” Xavier growled, and in a blink of an eye, Leawyn found Xavier’s sword through her attacker’s head, pinning him to the post behind him so he was still standing.

She screamed when brain matter and blood coated her locks and splashed in her face.

It was her reaction that spurred all the men to attack Xavier at once, thinking they had the advantage since he was without a weapon.

They could not have been more wrong.

It seemed like only moments before Leawyn found herself wrapped in her husband’s arms after he disposed of the men who had snuck up on her from behind after Asten disappeared. Did he already know Xavier was outside taking care of the other men, and that was why he left her alone? When she thought about Asten and Xavier meeting and having to explain to her husband how she knew him . . . it caused a shiver to go down her spine. Xavier was over-the-top possessive of her. He would kill Asten.

Xavier crushed her to his chest, effectively snapping Leawyn out of her thoughts.

“Leawyn,” Xavier breathed out in relief. His muscles instantly relaxed as soon as she was safe in his arms.

“Are you badly hurt?” Xavier asked gruffly, but even Leawyn could hear the concern in his voice.

Mutely, she shook her head but didn’t resist when he traveled his hands over her to check and reassure himself.

“I knew you’d come for me.”

Xavier froze, slowly raising his eyes to look into hers. She met his stare evenly, even with her black eye, her eyes shone beautifully.

“I knew you would save me,” Leawyn whispered.

She kept eye contact when his calloused hand rested on her cheek, gently moving his thump to wipe away blood.

“Always,” Xavier promised, his voice low and rough. “I’ll always come and save you, Leawyn.”

Leawyn’s smile immediately turned into a wince when the action caused her split lip to stretch and reopen.

Xavier scowled at the sight. He dipped down and swung her into his arms with ease and carried her out of the tent and over to her horse.Leawyn let out a tired sigh and rested her head against his chest as he walked. They were almost to her horse, who whinnied loudly when she saw Xavier carrying her.She stared over Xavier’s massive shoulders, thinking about the man who had saved her first.

Asten . . .