How The Warrior Fell (Falling Warriors series Book 1) (26 page)

“Xavier . . .” Leawyn choked out, her weak attempts to pry his hand away growing even weaker. Her vision was clouding with little black spots, and she knew she was going to pass out if he didn’t let go.

Xavier watched as her struggles lessened, keeping his eyes on hers as they started to flutter close. He lifted his arms, bringing her close enough so he could whisper in her ear. “When we get home, you’ll wish you never ran away.”

It was the last thing Leawyn heard before she promptly passed out.

X
AVIER CHARGED INTO
the camp his men had set up, sliding Killix into a quick stop, the horse he took to find Leawyn doing the same. Tyronian slowly sat up from where he was lying by one of the campfires, his eyes going to Leawyn’s unconscious form shrugged over the front of Killix’s saddle, then back to Xavier’s.

“What happened?”

Xavier said nothing, hopping off Killix and slinging Leawyn over his shoulder when he turned back to her.

“Send a message for the rest of our men to be prepared to meet at Cortagaver when we return.”

Tyronian followed closely behind Xavier. “Cortagaver? But that’s only used for—”

“The marking ceremony,” Xavier cut him off briskly. “Send the message.”

Tyronian stopped, grabbing Xavier’s elbow and swinging him around.

“Xavier . . .” Tyronian trailed off apprehensively, shaking his head. “You don’t mean to actually brand her, do you?”

Xavier curled his lip, looking pointedly down at the hand holding his elbow prisoner. “What I do with my wife is none of your concern.” Xavier shook off Tyronian’s hand and continued on his way to his tent.

“Xavier!” Tyronian shouted, jerking him to a stop yet again. “You can’t do that! That practice has not been used in a hundred winters. You can’t—”

“I’m getting very tired of people telling me what I can and cannot do,” Xavier practically snarled, spinning around to throw Tyronian a furious glare.

“She’s my wife!
Mine
! What I do to her is 
my 
business.”

Tyronian reeled back in shock, and Xavier came right up to his face. “Now, your chief gave you an order. I expect you to follow it,” he said dangerously.

Tyronian’s looked down at Leawyn, who was still draped carelessly over Xavier’s broad shoulders. “You’re making a mistake,” he said quietly. He gave Leawyn one last sad look before turning and doing what his chief asked.

Xavier stared after him, his jaw ticking in anger. Growling in annoyance, he turned on his heel and continued to his tent.

It was time to take care of his wife.

Leawyn blinked her eyes open, taking in the dark room around her in confusion.

Then she remembered.

Asten.

Xavier.

Leawyn gasped, hands flying up to her throat and wincing.

“Leawyn.”

Leawyn stiffened, her eyes shooting to the corner of the room. The shadowed form of Xavier made her heart race.

“Xavier, please I was jus—” Leawyn winced again. Her throat felt scratchy, and it hurt to talk.

“I’m not interested in your excuses, wife.” Xavier slowly stood up, his face outlined by the fire as he took a step forward.

“You disobeyed me.” He took another step, and Leawyn clenched the sheets beneath her, shrinking back as Xavier grew closer.

Swallowing around her fear, she spoke. “I didn’t.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Xavier growled.

“Xavier, please, I—”

Leawyn gasped in pain when Xavier reached down, quickly gathering her up into his arms.

“You ran away!” Xavier roared, shaking Leawyn and tightening his grip around her arms until they bruised. “I took a chance, and you ran away from me.”

“I was going to come back!” Leawyn cried.

Xavier snarled, throwing Leawyn down on the bed roughly. Leawyn yelped when Xavier’s weight settled on her, grasping her wrists and slamming them above her head. He grabbed her chin, jerking her face up until they were nose to nose, his dark eyes boring into hers.

“I trusted you,” he said, his voice dark.

Leawyn squeezed her eyes shut against the betrayal she heard in his voice. “I know. I’m sorry,” she whispered, lips trembling.

Xavier leaned forward, taking her lips in a brutal kiss, expressing everything he couldn’t say. He pulled back, grabbing the front of Leawyn’s dress. With one sharp tug sideways, it ripped in half.

“You will be,” he hissed in her ear right before he flipped her over. With a fistful of her hair to hold her steady, a quick thrust of his hips was all it took until he was filling her.

It was relentless and painful, just like their wedding night.

And Leawyn took it, because somewhere in her heart, she knew she had hurt him.

“I’
LL LET YOU
do it.”

Leawyn jumped, whirling around. Her eyes landed on Tristan, who looked at her with an odd expression. Leawyn frowned.

“What?”

“Leave,” Tristan said, nodding behind her to her horse. “I won’t stop you this time.”

Leawyn’s eyes followed Tristan, tilting her head back when he came to stand in front of her.

“Leave. Before it’s too late.”

“He’d find me,” Leawyn whispered.

“He won’t,” Tristan promised. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Leawyn studied Tristan, gauging to see if he was serious or not. He met her eyes calmly.

“This isn’t a trick, Leawyn. I should have helped you that night at the camp. Your mare is saddled and ready.” Tristan lifted his hand, and Leawyn was startled to see he held up a thick bag.

“This has everything you need for you to reach the sea. From there, you can catch a merchant ship and sail far from this land, to wherever you wish.” Tristan held the bag out to her, and, on instinct, Leawyn took it.

“You’re betraying your brother . . .”

“I don’t care,” Tristan replied bluntly. “He’s going to mark you, Leawyn. It will be painful, humiliating, and binding. You need to leave. If you don’t go now . . . you’ll be his forever.” Tristan cupped her cheeks with both palms, bending to ensnare her eyes with his.

“
Go, 
Leawyn. Run.”

Leawyn turned away, looking down at the lights of her village. The setting sun created a brilliant collage of colors. They had arrived earlier that morning, the marking ceremony set to take place as soon as the moon was up. Leawyn felt anxiety just thinking about it. Every male—young and old—would bear witness to Xavier branding her with his mark. It was to ensure all the males saw she was irrevocably his.

She looked down at the pack in her hand. She was silent for a long while, until, finally, she sighed. It was a heavy sigh, filled with conflicting emotions and desires.

“He told me what would happen.” Leawyn turned back around to face Tristan. “He gave me a chance to refuse.”

“Leawyn . . .”

“It’s
my
choice, Tristan. I accept responsibility for my actions.” She offered the bag back to Tristan, who took it reluctantly. She smiled—a swift upturn of her lips that quickly smoothed back into a grim line.

As she walked away, Tristan called out to her. “You’ll regret this.”

Leawyn paused, looking at him over her shoulder. “I know.” After giving Tristan another half-hearted smile, she walked out of sight.

“Please, Xavier, don’t make me go through this,” Leawyn trembled softly, her whispered plea too quiet for the men around them to hear.

“I’m sorry,” Xavier said, caressing her bruised cheek with the back of his hand. “But you already tried to run twice.”

Xavier didn’t say anything more, just wrapped his right arm across her chest while the other cut a slit up her ceremonial dress, exposing her leg and hip bone in response.

“I’m yours, you know I am!” Leawyn begged desperately.

“It will be quick. The more you struggle, the more painful it will be,” Xavier said, his voice low in her ear. Kissing the side of her head softly, he tightened his grip around her when she tensed in fearful anticipation. Reaching to the side of him, he gripped the heated prod and brought it over so it hovered between them.

Leawyn turned her head away, the heat from the iron spreading across her skin. Her eyes met the stony faces of Tyronian and Tristan. Tyronian openly showed his anger, his jaw locked.

Leawyn whimpered pitifully when Xavier said the joining incantation.

“I can’t watch this,” Tyronian ground out clenching his eyes shut and turning his head away.

“You have to watch it. It’s the tradition,” Tristan murmured. “If you leave now, she will have to endure it again. Every man must bear witness.”

Tyronian exhaled shakily and returned his gaze to Leawyn.

She held Tristan’s and Tyronian’s gazes until the searing, wrought iron symbol sizzled into her skin, making her screech and buck wildly against the pain.

Her scream was so filled with deep, horrified, anguish, it echoed throughout the village. Leawyn continued to scream until her voice became hoarse and her body couldn't take it anymore. She slumped against Xavier’s form, unconscious.