Chaos & Love: Blood & Iron Warriors, #1

By Kat Kenyon

"He is perfect imperfection if ever it existed."- Obsessed with Romance Blog

Rayne:
I like Tyler, but we're just friends. That's what we agreed. We need different things and I've been down this road before. I need to focus on the dance scholarship that got me into California University, even if he's all I want when things fall apart. We're friends. There's just one problem.

Tyler:
Rayne made the call and I get it. She needs more than I can give her. My life is more of a disaster than a dream. Nothing good can come from being with me. I need to pretend she isn't all I think about and prove I belong on the field. Yeah, we're friends. There's just one problem.

Love brings chaos and demons thrive in its wake.
Can Rayne and Tyler survive the demons stalking them?




High-steam romance series about the same couple. For 18+
TW .*cheating, *issues related to abuse and violence.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Blood & Iron Entertainment
• Release date: Jan 1, 2024
• ISBN: 9781732970113

Book preview

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Blood and Iron Entertainment, LLC

12421 Pearl Road #1079

Strongsville, OH 44136

United States

www.KatKenyon.com

This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people or real places, are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

Copyright 2019 by Katrina Kenyon, TXu002132858

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All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Printed in the United States of America

No AI was used in the production of any part of this book. Nor may any part of this book or cover be used for training any AI project.

Second Edition, 2020

ISBN 978-1-7329701-0-6

ISBN 978-1-7329701-1-3 ebook

Editing by: Taryn Lawson

Proofing by: Marla Selkow Esposito

Cover by: MadChat Design

Formatting by: Cherie Varian

Logo by: Shanoff Designs

Photography by: Shelly Duncan Photography

Publisher: Blood and Iron Entertainment, LL

Contents

Preface

Dedication

August

1.Rayne Mathews

2.Tyler Blackman

3.Rayne Mathews

4.Tyler Blackman

5.Rayne Mathews

6.Tyler Blackman

7.Rayne Mathews

8.Tyler Blackman

9.Rayne Mathews

10.Tyler Blackman

September

11.Rayne Mathews

12.Tyler Blackman

13.Rayne Mathews

14.Tyler Blackman

15.Rayne Mathews

16.Tyler Blackman

17.Rayne Mathews

18.Tyler Blackman

October

19.Rayne Mathews

20.Tyler Blackman

21.Rayne Mathews

22.Tyler Blackman

23.Rayne Mathews

24.Tyler Blackman

25.Rayne Mathews

26.Tyler Blackman

27.Rayne Mathews

28.Tyler Blackman

29.Rayne Mathews

30.Tyler Blackman

31.Rayne Mathews

32.Tyler Blackman

33.Rayne Mathews

34.Tyler Blackman

35.Rayne Mathews

36.Tyler Blackman

37.Rayne Mathews

38.Tyler Blackman

39.Rayne Mathews

40.Tyler Blackman

41.Rayne Mathews

42.Tyler Blackman

43.Rayne Mathews

44.Tyler Blackman

45.Rayne Mathews

46.Tyler Blackman

47.Rayne Mathews

48.Tyler Blackman

November

49.Rayne Mathews

50.Tyler Blackman

51.Rayne Mathews

52.Tyler Blackman

53.Rayne Mathews

Afterword

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Preface

Love can heal the soul.

It doesn’t mean simple or easy, and it isn’t a walk down a darkened hall with an end--it’s being willing to walk through a dense forest, where the darkness can be cold and scary, knowing every step into the dappled light and bright meadows make every moment worth it.

Love is an adventure, not an end.

Please be aware that this book contains adult content suitable for people over eighteen. There are topics such as abuse, violence, sex, and high stress situations in this book.

This is Book One in a planned serial and expanding Universe 1.

Dedication

This has been a stupidly long journey. From the experiences and ideas that appeared in my head, to the long wait to get to publication. Through all of my trauma/drama, hubby has been with me. Another adventure-- you’re still my favorite.

Thank you!

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Chapter one

Rayne Mathews

Get out, ya ungrateful bitch!

Nice Emily.

That’s typical fare for my mother. She’ll yell, cuss, throw things, get violent, get high, pass out, then expect me to fix whatever made her spiral before she wakes up. Normally I do just to shut her up, but after seventeen years, I’ve done my time. She’s on her own. I won’t be here to take care of her or be a punching bag, and in a few months, I’ll be eighteen, and I’ll make sure she has no say in my life ever again. Because Emily is quicksand.

She drags me down and I can’t breathe.

Everything that means something to me is already in my car. If I leave it behind, she’ll destroy it. Emily is destructively neglectful on her best day. Either by accident or malice, the minute she realizes I’m not coming back, she’ll hurt me. It’s what she does.

So, when I wake up my final morning in her house, I don’t say a word. I just grab my keys and look around my room for the last time.

It looks bare without everything in it. A tiny off-white room, in a tiny off-white house, on the edge of a great town in Southern California, and as hard as I try, I can’t find any happy memories made here.

Even on my last night, she brought home a new bottle of vodka for her and her groping boyfriend, Jim, along with enough meth to leave them both useless. Hell, I would have been grateful if they’d gotten lit and passed out, but instead he got drunk and made a pass at me, complete with aggression and vile promises.

It wasn’t the first time I’d fled down the hallway with him chasing me, and Emily screeching out of her mind, demanding to know what was going on. But she never believes me, he’d never admit it, and I wasn’t going to stop and explain. So, while they fought about how disrespectful I was, I had to lock and bar my door.

His efforts to get past my pathetic barricades were an invasion of what little privacy my room provided, driven by drug-induced courage and some disgusting inner monologue I didn’t want to hear, and that Emily always ignored it or blamed me.

She doesn’t care what he does to me, only that he’s ignoring her, which is always my fault.

Knowing sleep was pointless, not knowing if he would show up like the creeping menace he is, I focused on morning. What little sleep descended was in fits and fades, complete with the paralyzing terrors that were now a part of me. And when the sun came, it was a rebirth like nothing I can explain.

If I had anyone to explain it to.

When I finally left my room with the last of my bags, evidence of a night spent fighting littered the floor. Broken glass, cigarettes, a tipped-over pizza box, and a disgusting stain I don’t want to name were just the first things I saw.

Normally, this was when I would clean and fix it for her, but instead, I grabbed the last banana and was leaving as Emily came out of the bathroom.

So, she threw a fit, because apparently, I’m such a bitch. And I don’t care. I’m leaving my mess of a house and my mess of a life to start a new one.

I’m gone.

I’m lucky. I earned a full ride and have a double major to focus on. I worked my ass off, and while I’m a little sad I’ve got no one to share it with, I’m not sad enough to be sad.

Flying down the freeway with my music up in the summer sun, I allow the heat to sink in, burning away the perma-frost of my life. I sing along, and by the time I hit campus, I’m happy. Truly happy. After years of fighting to survive her house, I earned this. I belong here.

I’m free.

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I’m moving in early to start my work-study at California University’s Dixon Athletic Center, home of the Blood and Iron Warriors. The best of the best in the country train here and I will too, but that’s not why I’m working at Dixon. When I applied for work-study, this job started earliest, which works great for me because I’m here almost two weeks before the start of the semester.

Which is exactly what I need, and as I pull up to my dorm, my cheeks burn from the strain.

The building is a beautiful older giant sitting back from the narrow road, with perfectly manicured grass, flowers, and soaring palm trees.

The whole campus is a mix of classic old brick, Spanish stucco, and modern aesthetic surrounded by detailed landscaping. It’s decorated right now by people everywhere, and I can’t imagine being here during the crush of general admission. Today, the last half of the athletes are arriving for training, their hot bodies all over the sidewalks, all over the streets.

Holy hell, I mutter under my breath.

Four of the most beautiful male specimens I’ve ever seen walk in front of my parked car. The blistering Southern California heat has driven them to strip down to loose shorts. It’s an intimidating sight. They’re over six feet tall, muscled, and looking in my direction as I get out of the car.

Movin’ in to Kinsington, doll? the tallest of the four asks. He’s a smokin’ brunette, and he cuffs the nearest one, who’s chuckling and grinning, on the back of the head. The others look younger and are whispering amongst themselves as he introduces himself as Brent, a junior on the football team.

Yeah.

Bay, you’re there too, right? He points at the massive golden blond at the end, who grins, raises his hand and introduces himself as Baylor.

Aren’t all cheerleaders supposed to be at practice? My girl’s on the team and they’re sticklers for that shit. Brent laughs as he tries to quiet the guys, who keep up the choking and coughing commentary.

What makes you assume I’m a cheerleader?

Too hot to be anything else, he says, his chocolate eyes amused and assessing.

Oh, okay. Now I know the game.

Well, thanks, I think, but nope. Dancer.

Serious? Bay’s coughed comment drags my attention to him as his eyes widen and he gives me a long look up and down.

So typical.

No shit! someone says.

Are you flexible? Bay laughs. He knows it sounds bad, but instead of finding it rude, I think it’s funny.

Does that mean you can— another brunette starts to ask.

Bay smacks him in the chest, saying under his breath, Wyatt, look at her legs, I guarantee she can.

Seriously, jackass, I can hear you. I can tell he means it in good fun and it makes me laugh.

What’s your name? Bay asks.

Rayne.

He smiles victoriously as he and his fellow players scan me like fresh meat, even Brent rolls his eyes as he tries to rein them in, but they’re Division 1-A football players, so any control or shame would be surprising.

An out-of-control jock is one reason I chose this university. My past mistake is at UCLA, and I came here to start fresh without him or Emily. I’m not letting anyone from my past ruin this for me.

Nice to meet you guys, but I need to get my parking pass, meet my new supervisor…all that stuff, so if you’ll excuse me? I smile at the wall of eye candy and walk away.

Damn if that isn’t a nice start.

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Meeting my resident advisor is my first goal.

Michael Kinnerk greets me with a smile, a stack of papers, and my keys.

He’s around five-ten with midnight-black skin, long black dreads, and gorgeous full-sleeve tattoos that I didn’t get a good peek at. He’s also a former MLB player. Really. He blew out his rotator cuff after a year and a half, and although he’s still young and healthy, his shoulder is too damaged to play. Now, he’s finishing his last year of a physical therapy degree and watching out for a dorm full of insane young athletes.

My second goal is to get settled, and it takes most of the day. After I get my stuff moved in, I order pizza and start tearing everything out.

Kinsington Hall is up for demolition and the school is allowing us to do whatever we want with our rooms. We have private bedrooms and bathrooms, and share small kitchenettes and living rooms, just like a micro apartment. The drawback: we don’t have gyms or media centers like the new dorms…Like I care.

I’m a reno girl, if there ever was one, and since Emily has always been useless, I’m used to taking care of myself. I’ve been doing it since I was nine and I don’t wait for anyone. I love the freedom of it, and I laugh when I find Mr. Super-Fine RA, leaning on my doorjamb.

Did you order extra pizza? he asks.

I did. I needed it in case there were hands available to bribe.

I have hands and you did all the heavy lifting. What’s next?

Painting.

Painting? You aren’t supposed to be doing that, he says, shaking his head.

Where does it say that? The color in here is depressing. I bought low-fume shit, it’ll be fine. Besides, my roommate isn’t here for two days. Come on Kinnerk…pizza! I wiggle my eyebrows. Hell, I’ll pay for beer.

Kinnerk is hot, with a sense of humor, because he laughs at my lame flirting. He has to have one, since he’s playing RA to a bunch of over-stimulated athletes.

I’ll help you paint, but I can buy my own damn alcohol. He smiles and walks down the hall raising his hand, barking, I’m getting my adult beverage, and you better have damn good tunes on when I get back.

And he’s true to his word. He spends the night helping me paint three drab, off-white walls a soft gray, then put on a wash, making them silver. The one behind the spot where my bed goes, we paint lavender, and the ceiling and concrete floor are painted white. It looks amazing. Even he looks impressed.

Give me one more day and I’ll blow your mind. I smirk, looking up at him.

You think?

Baby, I know, I say, with all the attitude I can muster.

Well then, dove, he says, approaching my ear. I’ll see you tomorrow.

It’d be hot, except he starts laughing. We’ve spent the night with the athlete residents of the dorm coming in and out asking him questions, listening to music, and him bashing my lack of solid, old-school rap.

It may be one of the best nights I’ve ever had.

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I wake up happy.

This room will be my sanctuary until they tear down the building.

I need to send Anne a thank you. This wouldn’t be possible without her.

Emily will never show her face here, and I don’t want her to. As for my dad, I’ve never seen him. He’s a bastard and abandoned Emily before she gave birth. He pays support of some sort, but I’ve never seen it. I’m pretty sure she’s slamming it.

I’ve seen my paternal grandfather twice, but he doesn’t play a role in my life either. He doesn’t want to have contact. I’m a dirty secret for the Mathews family. He’s made that abundantly clear, making Anne my point person.

She’s my paternal grandfather’s secretary and she’s responsible for ensuring the error of my existence is kept as far away from the family as possible. She also takes care of everything I need and makes sure I have no reason to go to the media.

As if I ever would.

She’s been a lifeline during some really dark years. She covers things like the house we lived in, my car, dance classes and trips, extras, all with money from Gramps. God, he’d hate that name.

Stuck up asshat!

But she used his money to put me in one of the best school districts I could have asked for, so…

I’m responsible for college, but Anne sent college starter money. With it, I bought my new room, starting with a convertible couch. It’s not one of those crappy fold outs or futons; it converts to a real queen-sized bed with different angles. It even has storage underneath. It’s seven feet long and gorgeous.

I love it.

I’ve mounted a thirty-two-inch TV, wireless modem, speakers, shelves, and a drop-down wall desk. I splurged on a mini-fridge, a new laptop, and new decorations … She literally paid for a new home for me to breathe in.

I’ve got my work-study at Dixon to keep me solvent, but it couldn’t give me this. Anne was generous with his money and there’s some left over, just like when she bought my Mustang, so I’m starting well into the black, and able to face the school year without the constant fear of how I’ll survive.

Thanks, Anne.

It’s two in the afternoon when I realize I’ve blown my morning. Cleaning the room again, I fly through a shower because I start work today and I’m nasty. But, as I look around, this space is the most peaceful place I’ve ever known. I’m seventeen and this is the best it’s been. Throwing my hair into a high ponytail, I grab my phone, my keys, and my sunglasses.

I’m brand new.

Chapter two

Tyler Blackman

Fuck yeah!

Sore as hell and we aren’t done yet.

But that’s what I do!

I walk off the field as part of the Blood and Iron. I’m a Warrior. There isn’t a better team anywhere; this is as good as it gets. Even if the coaches are using summer camp to kill us, I love every minute.

I’m gonna die happy playing. I knew I’d make the team. I didn’t go to a big football high school, but I’m good and I’m dedicated. I earned this. Despite my dad’s interference, I showed up for try-outs in the spring and killed it.a

I wanted to be a wide receiver, and at six foot four and two hundred forty pounds of solid muscle, I’ll be the biggest in the conference. I’m bigger than anyone except the linemen, but I’m fast as shit off the line and on the split … Hell, I’m faster than everyone. I stay conditioned on distance running, and I’m a beast in the weight room.

I’m an anomaly.

I played it smart and knew when I chose CU that they were weak at this position. They only have one good receiver due to injuries and the receiver they have, Lark Wilson, is heading to the Combine.

I have a marketable skill, they had a need, and even as a walk-on, I won.

Welcome to Hell Week, ladies! I hear as I’m slapped upside the head by our QB, Dylan McVey.

Thanks, man. I grab a water bottle and play follow the leader. If I don’t get food soon, I won’t make it much longer.

McVey laughs. I hear ya, man. We’re all heading out to grab food after this. Get your giant ass together and come with us.

I’m in.

I’m dragging some major ass, but yeah, I’m totally in!

I’m fucking tired as hell, y’all! Wyatt complains, as we round the corner to Dixon.

It’s our heart and soul here. We see Dixon more than we do our rooms. Dixon is the Sports Center at CU, the figurative beating heart of everything Warriors because all the athletes work out here. Compared to the facilities at home—wait, there is no comparison. I love it here.

We’ve lifted, run drills, had lunch, run through position practice, reviewed tape, and now the offense has conditioning. It’s Tuesday of our last week of summer camp. Hell to live. All. Fucking. Week.

McVey and I roll our eyes at Wyatt’s bitching.

How do you plan to survive? You know bitching is a sign of a dropout? I cock an eyebrow, knowing it’ll piss him off. He’s been trying to do the Dwyane Johnson cocked brow for days and he just can’t.

He’s not gonna. He’s gonna run home to Texas like a pussy, McVey says. He’s our captain and he’s been ruthless since we got here. Keep it up, momma’s boy.

Bay, one of the freshmen recruits, takes another dig. Pussy, in my experience, doesn’t bitch like that.

A universal ouch goes up, causing Wyatt to flip him off.

He’s my roommate, but he complains all the time. It’s pathetic.

Fuck both ya’ll, ya’ fucking cyborgs! The rest of the line thinks this sucks too. How come ya’ll two are fine? he whines as we all barrel through the glass doors and push our way to the giant glass desk to swipe our student IDs.

McVey flexes his bicep, laughing. Cyborg? I’ll take it! Smirking at someone behind the desk, he says, Well, you’re new. Hi, I’m Dylan.

Hi, cyborg Dylan, comes a teasing voice. The people in front of me separate, then a stunning blonde appears and my feet stumble, freezing me to the floor.

The fuck!

She’s in a mid-thigh, dark blue summer dress and I see great legs, a tiny waist, tits big enough for my huge hands, long neck, long gold hair, and gorgeous blue eyes. And that’s just my view from the front, and. Then. She. Smiles … And I can’t stop staring.

Hey, Bay.

The smile she sends his way makes me want to punch him. My head whips to the overly smiley jackass.

How the hell do you know her already?

Wyatt, are you tired? she asks the whiner.

Hey, Rayne. Don’t talk to the cyborgs, they’re throwing the curve for the rest of us. I hate ’em right now.

Really, who else is a machine? I could’ve used their help last night.

She’s laughing as she waves through our mass of shuffling muscle, and it’s unreal how beautiful her smile is. I step forward and hold out my hand.

I love girls, all girls, but I want to know this girl. Damn, if I’m not introducing myself.

Cyborg Tyler, Ty. Nice to meet you, and ignore the whining from the weak human over there. I glare at the guys who know her. Her beautiful smile turns me on and my dick jumps, along with something in my chest.

Nice to meet you, cyborg Ty and Dylan. I’m assuming since the cardio room is checked out to the offense, that’d be you?

Delicate brows rise gently, with long lashes, a button nose, and soft, pink lips with a perfect bow …

I want.

Yep. My team captain nods.

McVey, stop talking to her.

Well, swipe your cards to let your coach know you came and have at it. Nice to meet you.

Yeah. The guys continue walking past us trying to swipe their cards.

Why cyborg? she asks lightly, glancing between McVey and I, but I want her attention all to myself.

It’s a joke. McVey and I don’t whine about conditioning. I lean forward and catch sight of the rest of her long legs, down to slim ankles.

Damn.

McVey swipes his ID, thumps my back, and winks at her.

What the fuck are you winking at asshole?

We always go until the end of the workout. He rips off his shirt and strokes his abs proudly. And they want these lines. He cuffs me again. Get your ass in here, Cyborg.

I didn’t realize my team was gone until he said something.

She’s vicious as she chews her lower lip, and the darkening pink makes me want to jump over the desk and suck it into my mouth. Almost like she can read my mind, her breath stalls. Slowly, she leans across the desk and a subtle smile peeks out, making me lean closer, and I catch the faint scent of her.

Well, Ty, if you really deserve the title, I want to see it. Dylan showed his, do I get to see yours?

Do I getta bite your lip?

"Will you show me yours?" My voice is husky, because I want to lift that little dress and see what’s underneath.

Her eyes flare momentarily, then her smile widens. Shaking her head, she laughs almost to herself and pulls upright.

Sorry, Ty, you’re hot, but I probably shouldn’t tease. Fuck if I don’t want to though. She holds out her hand, and just like that, the sexy flirt disappears. You’re gonna see me a lot.

I shake her hand, confused, my head and dick not able to catch up to her shift in mood.

Tyler Blackman. Freshman walk-on. So, you don’t want me to prove it?

Rayne Mathews, freshman dance scholarship, pre-pharmacy. And, who doesn’t want to see a work of art if it’s the product of hard work? Buuut …

It takes too long for her to speak. My chest tightens while I wait for the rest of what she’s going to say. I don’t play those kinds of games. So …

Her smile reaches all the way to her eyes. Crystal blue, like the clearest waters, and piercing. I want to drown in them. Friends?

That’s not what I want to hear.

Can I keep your hand?

No. She laughs, pulling it back.

My blood is still in my dick and it doesn’t want to be friends. I’m confused about why it has to be a game though; I’m always straight with people and I scowl my frustration.

I don’t play games. Don’t want a girlfriend. I’m having a great time getting to know as many great people as possible. I’d like to get to know you.

I’d like that too. I just don’t do the casual thing. Her shrug is subtle, but still drags my eyes to the slope of her shoulders. Every line on her is softly muscled, elegant.

Why not, if we both agree?

You don’t do casual, but …

I’m just not built that way, I guess. Her chin tips down, but her smile stays, making my heart speed up.

You aren’t getting away that easy.

Come to dinner with the team tonight.

Um, that’s a leap. Plus, hanging with a bunch of alpha males? Her nose scrunches and it’s adorable and makes me want to lick her.

Damn…

I have to go. But I want to talk about this. I aim a finger at her. You are hot as hell. I wanna get to know you. Can’t do that if we don’t talk, and I can’t talk now. Come on.

There’s a slight intake of breath and struggle in her eyes. I want her to come, so I flash her the biggest smile I can. I don’t want her slipping away. I want to find out what’s lurking under the surface of the blue waters of her eyes.

When?

Six thirty, sports cafeteria.

A quirk of her lips and I’m in, I know it.

Okay. I’ve met some of the guys and I have to eat anyway.

Six thirty, baby doll. She smirks at the nickname, but it fits. She’s a perfect doll.

Okay, Ty.

That’s Cyborg.

She smiles wider. You haven’t proven that.

I rip off my shirt, showing the pecs, eight pack, and Adonis belt I work my ass off for. I look good and I know it. The heated look on her face and silence is worth it.

I’m a fucking cyborg, baby doll. I turn and walk away.

Yeah, friends for now.

Chapter three

Rayne Mathews

I love my job.

My direct supervisor may be a pain in the ass, but the facilities director, Director Mason, is amazing.

The female athletes are fun and full of energy, and while the males are arrogant, cocky, and full of testosterone, they’re easy to handle. And I especially love when the football team comes in.

Taking Ty up on dinner that first time was a great idea. The team eats together, spreading over a mass of tables, and spends dinner trying to one-up each other. They were better than any other form of live entertainment.

I sat between Ty and Bay, who looked like they’d been hit by a truck and took abuse from the upperclassmen all night.

It was also an education in what a truckload of food looks like. The sheer volume of what the team eats is insane and nearly made my eyes bug out. I did notice that Ty ate like me though, with healthy veggies and lean protein, so I didn’t feel left out.

Glad to see I’m not alone. My comment draws Bay’s attention and he groans.

You already look good enough to eat, Rayne.

I do a double-take at his plates and shake my head. Plates, as in three of them.

Thanks, Bay, but if I ate all that, I couldn’t work out enough to get rid of it. Food is meant to feed the machine. I smile and shrug. You get used to eating healthy.

Bay just growls. I thought it was funny … until the asshat stole my pickle.

I’m going to have to teach him it’s not okay to mess with my veggies, but between their antics and keeping me included, I find I have a ton in common with them.

Ty and I got into a passionate conversation about pop culture, with both of us talking over one another in an effort to get it all out. We both love all kinds of music, we work out like fiends, and now follow each other online. He posts some crazy shit.

I love talking to him. He’s a player, but at least he’s honest about it.

He’s sexy and leaves me sexually frustrated, but it turns out, he’s funny. I shouldn’t have flirted, but he pulls at me. Hazel eyes that are gold and green, messy light brown hair, plus, he’s a giant. He’s built like a god and I want to climb him like a tree.

So not good. So not