Captive Of The Horde King

by Zoey Draven

  “You,” he said quietly, “will eat now.”

  “Why?” I hissed, just as quietly, back.

  “You are malnourished,” he snarled. “I will not have you wasting away.”

  “I will eat what my village eats, what my brother eats. Uranian Federation rations and nothing more.”

  The horde king burst out with a Dakkari curse and his large hand flashed out, wrapping around the side of my neck, just over my collar. His strength was undeniable and I let out a small, surprised breath when he tilted my head back to look at him.

  “You are a part of the horde now. You will eat what the horde eats!” he growled, those yellow eyes flashing. My temper was rising. Whenever I felt backed into a corner, I came out fighting.

  “I will never be part of the horde.”

  “You are!” he roared. “You will be my kassikari, I will fill your belly with my heirs, you will be my queen, and you will eat when I tell you to!”

  Sucking in a breath, anger pulsing through me, I hissed out, “Or else what?”

  Something dark came into his narrowed eyes. His hand flexed on my throat and he rasped, “If you refuse to eat, I will consider it a slight. I will return to your little village and do what I should have done last night. I will let Kakkari feast on your brother’s spilled blood as retribution.”

  I froze. He was threatening me, using my brother’s life as leverage.

  However, he would lose me if he took that course and for some reason…he wanted me. A horde king of the Dakkari wanted me and I could use that to my advantage.

  Narrowing my eyes, I called his bluff.

  “Do it then,” I said softly, pressing my neck into his hand further, rising to my knees so that we were eye-level, ignoring the pain from riding the pyroki. The beads on my top swayed as I moved. The horde king stilled, his eyes flashing to my lips as I spoke, “But if you do, I swear on your goddess that I will never eat again. I will die here and be reunited with my brother and mother in the afterlife. Nothing would make me happier.”

  The horde king nostril’s flared.

  Then, without warning, he grabbed me around the waist and hauled me up, striding over to the tray of food on the low table.

  I gasped, struggling against him, my skirt riding up in the process. My thighs rubbed together as I squirmed, but I didn’t care about the rough pain. Not right then. Desperate sounds, small and frustrated and animal-like, emerged from my throat as I fought against his hold.

  But he was unmovable. Like a mountain.

  “Enough!” he bellowed, dropping us both down to the table. He maneuvered himself behind me, pinning my legs down with his own, bracketing my arms at my sides until I couldn’t move, but I still continued to struggle, finding energy and a fire inside me that I needed to keep fueled. No matter what.

  When I realized what his intention was, my eyes widened. “You wouldn’t dare,” I hissed.

  “If you will not eat,” he rasped, “then I will make you, kalles.”

  I watched with frustration as he plucked a piece of dried meat from one of the dishes. Immediately, he pressed it to my lips, but I kept them tight together, keeping my teeth clenched, and turned my face to the side. He followed and I whipped my face to the other side.

  And it continued. I don’t know how long I continued to fight against him, but soon, I grew tired. I was expending too much energy, my weakened muscles straining against him as I fought his hold.

  “Stubborn kalles,” he growled. “I will break you like a wild pyroki if I must.”

  You can try, I goaded in my mind, but kept my teeth firmly clenched.

  He was growing more and more frustrated too and I would hold out for as long as I could. In my mind, it wasn’t even about the food anymore. It was about so much more and I couldn’t let him succeed. I wouldn’t.

  Even when I felt something harden beneath my lap, even when he used his tail to keep my head still, even when I started panting from the exertion, I still fought.

  Finally, the horde king let his hand fall away, though he kept me pinned. Relief went through me, thinking I’d won that battle. And if I could win one battle, I could win another.

  “It seems you are feeling much better this day, kalles,” he finally rasped, something entirely different in his voice. Sucking in a sharp breath through my nostrils, I felt dread pool in my belly when he maneuvered our position, dragging my legs apart wider with his own, using his strong, flexible tail to wrap around my arms, holding them in place. I felt cool air rush over my sex and when I glanced down, I saw my skirt was barely concealing me. “Let us forget about the food then.”

  I made an alarmed, muffled sound when his other hand came to cup my exposed sex. Biting my lip, I resumed my struggles when one of his fingers stroked over my slit, teasing the flesh.

  I was all too aware that he still held the dried meat in his other hand, hovering just on the edge of my vision. The battle wasn’t over, he was just employing very different methods than before. That frustrated me, made me desperate to get away.

  “Lysi,” he hissed, “you are making me ache, kalles.”

  Stop, I screamed in my mind, please stop!

  But he continued to slowly, almost languidly, stroke me between my thighs. He found my clit, pressing and rolling it with the rough pad of his finger.

  And goddess help me…I felt my treacherous body responding to his surprisingly gentle, expert, exploring touch.

  No, no, no!

  Whimpering, I resumed my struggles tenfold, trying to scratch at his legs like a caged animal, muffled noises emerging from my throat.

  But he never stopped. And I never gave in.

  Soon, panic sank into my gut, my breathing going ragged, trying to fight against the heady pleasure that was building between my thighs.

  In my ear, he rasped, “You are growing hot for me, kalles.” A dark chortle came next and I felt my cheeks heat with humiliation, with shame. “Vok, you need this. I need this too, kassikari.”

  It was building and building, the heat growing hotter and hotter. I feared what would happen next.

  Finally, desperate, I pleaded, “Stop.”

  “What, kalles? I did not hear you.”

  “Please, st—”

  He shoved the piece of dried meat between my open lips.

  Disbelief shot through me but before he could clamp my mouth together, I spit it out, though the delicious flavor burst on my tongue, making my stomach cramp with even more hunger. But I was used to it.

  The horde king growled in dark frustration and, to my surprise, released me entirely, pushing me forward so he could stand.

  The pins in my hair had fallen out, all of Lavi’s hard work destroyed, and I pushed back a tendril of escaped hair when I looked up at him, stunned. His expression was thunderous, though his cock tented the cloth covering him. Behind him, his tail flicked dangerously, back and forth. He was so large, he seemed to take up all the space in the palatial tent.

  “Go hungry then, kalles. It is your choice,” he rasped. “Rest today. Because when I return tonight, I will have what you promised to me. It is obvious you have recovered your strength and I will not wait another night to claim your cunt.”

  Glaring up at him, I felt my heart racing in my throat.

  The horde king turned and stalked out of the tent, letting in a brief, blinding chunk of sunlight, before it closed. Then it was dark once more. Outside, I heard him bark something in Dakkari before his footsteps retreated.

  Alone, I stared at the cold food on the low table in disbelief, at the dried meat I’d spit out, which had landed on the plush rug. Slowly, I picked it up and placed it back in the bowl.

  My body was still humming from his touch. My body felt like a stranger’s.

  I may have won that battle between us, but I felt like I’d won nothing at all.

  Chapter Seven

  Later that night, Mirari and Lavi prepared me for the inevitable.

  They bathed me again, though I’d protested that I
was clean. Naturally, Mirari insisted, saying that all the horde bathed daily, which seemed like a great waste to me.

  After my bath, they dressed me in the night dress the horde king had given me, which had already been cleaned, though my old clothes still had not been returned to me.

  The piki brushed my hair until it fell in softened waves down my back and lit the wax candles and fragrant oil pots to burn for the remainder of the night. The tent was cast in a golden light, the gentle flames flickering and swaying.

  When they finally left, Mirari took the tray of food she’d brought that morning with her, casting a frown over it, obviously inspecting it to see if it’d been touched. Ever since they returned that afternoon, she’d been pressing me to eat, telling me how pleased the Vorakkar would be if I did.

  Wisely, I’d held my tongue and eventually, she’d stopped pressing, though every time my stomach growled and she cast me a speculative, hopeful look, it made me blush.

  I was alone then, clean, practically naked, sitting on the edge of the bed facing the tent’s entrance. I’d decided that afternoon that I needed to be brave, that this was the cost I’d willingly paid. The horde king wanted me in his bed and I would be. My brother was alive because of his mercy and while he couldn’t make me eat…he could make me do this.

  It didn’t matter that my stomach was in knots—and not just because of my hunger. It didn’t matter that I worried he would tear me in two or that he would be rough. It didn’t matter that I was a virgin, inexperienced with males and sex.

  I’d made a deal with the Dakkari devil and I would hold up my end.

  Heavy footsteps approached the tent and I sucked in a breath. I heard him, his unmistakable deep voice speaking in Dakkari to the guards stationed at the entrance. After a moment, I heard their footsteps retreat, dismissed from their duties for the night and my spine straightened, my heart tripling its beat in my breast.

  There was silence for a moment, as I waited for him to enter. But he took his time, as if composing himself, before he suddenly ducked inside.

  Across the tent, his eyes found mine, his yellow irises contracting and then widening. He straightened to his full height, swallowing the space with his broad shoulders and massive bulk.

  Gone was his anger from earlier that day, I noticed. It had been replaced by desire, by lust, the same expression on his face that he’d had when he’d cut open my cloak in my village.

  I’d been right. For some strange reason, the horde king wanted me. I didn’t know why.

  My nipples pebbled tighter underneath the transparent shift, but thankfully my long hair covered them. Warily, I watched him as one might a predatory beast, studying him for a weakness. His hair was plaited down his back, his skin looked even more honeyed from his day in the sun, with a slight shimmer of sweat gleaming on his bare chest, though the star had long set. Not for the first time, I wondered what his duties were during the day, when he wasn’t patrolling the lands of Dakkar.

  His hands went to the gold belt at his hips, which he unclasped. With it went the piece of cloth that shielded his sex. He dropped it to the floor of the tent with a small thud and then he was naked, his cock already hard, his dusky, dark sack hanging low beneath it.

  I sucked in a small breath when he approached, my hands twitching against my legs. I’d had Mirari smear some of the healing salve on my thighs after all, since it was obvious I wouldn’t be able to rebuff the horde king’s attentions after all. It had helped take the stinging pain away, which I was begrudgingly thankful for. It would make this easier.

  Though there was a fresh, steaming bathing tub in the corner waiting for him, it was clear that he didn’t intend to use it. At least not yet.

  “Leika,” he rasped, his voice brushing over my skin when he pushed me back onto the bed, the furs beneath me tickling my arms. “Rinavi leika, rei kassikari, rei Morakkari.”

  With one decisive tug, the horde king pulled my shift over my head until I was as naked as he was, dropping it onto the floor beside the bed. Out of habit, my arms crossed immediately over my breasts, but he pulled them away a moment later, bringing my arms over my head, securing my wrists in one large palm.

  He adjusted me so I lay in the middle of the bed, bare and exposed to him. Then he crawled over me, his head ducking low, those eyes searing me as his pointed, dark tongue flicked out, licking a single line from my naval, to between the valley of my breasts, to my collarbone. I couldn’t contain my gasp.

  “Rinavi leika,” he rasped again, though I didn’t know what those words meant. That head ducked a second time and then he was suckling one of my breasts, that hot tongue flicking over my peaked nipple.

  My breathing went shallow as my treacherous body began to respond to him once more.

  Foreign sensations battled within me. Pressure began to build as my nipple tingled between his lips and I ground my teeth together against the pleasure when he switched breasts, laving his tongue over it.

  No, no, no.

  I’d told myself I would allow this. But I didn’t want to enjoy it. That seemed like a betrayal, that seemed like a true violation. It was not something I ever wanted to give him, that satisfaction.

  The scent of his musk reached my nostrils, rising from his skin after his long day. He smelled like the earth, heady and warm. I smelled his sweat. Instead of repulsing me, it made my head swim.

  When I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block everything out, I felt him move down my body, releasing my wrists above my head in the process. Something hard and hot brushed my stomach and I knew it was his cock.

  My eyes flew open when he pulled my thighs wide. When I looked down, I saw he was lying between my spread legs, his head just inches from my exposed sex.

  But he hesitated.

  His eyes tracked over the dark bruises that had begun to bloom across my lower buttocks. He saw how red my inner thighs still were, how chafed the skin was. Though the salve helped, it would be another few days until the pain was gone completely, until the flesh healed over.

  The horde king made a sound in the back of his throat, but he didn’t hesitate any longer. I bit my lip to keep from gasping when he licked the slit of my sex slowly.

  His deep groan of pleasure, his rasped words in Dakkari, made my body tense tight. I gripped the furs beneath me, staring up at the canopy of the domed tent, where the supports met in the very center. I focused on that very spot.

  But he wouldn’t even give me that.

  “Look at me, kalles,” he growled between my thighs, parting my lower lips with his fingers. I felt cool air dance over my clit.

  I had to do what he said so I met his gaze, though I kept my expression carefully shuttered. His yellow-rimmed eyes darted back and forth between mine and then he ducked his head.

  This time, I couldn’t stop the choked moan that slid from my throat as he lapped at my exposed sex, flicking my clit back and forth with that stiff, pointed tongue.

  It felt good. And I hated that. I hated it and liked it so much that to my mortification, I felt tears well in my eyes. They pooled before rolling across my temples, dropping onto the furs beneath my head. Tears of frustration, of physical need, of grief, of fear of my new life, of confusion.

  To make matter worse, right at that moment, my stomach growled.

  Loudly.

  The horde king froze between my thighs.

  I couldn’t stem my tears in time. When he looked up at me, he saw them.

  He cursed low in Dakkari, a whispered, anguished curse, before dropping his warm forehead above my pelvic bone. I felt his breath against my skin when he blew it out roughly, his shoulders moving with it.

  A moment later, he rolled off me before sitting on the edge of the low bed, his scarred back to me, those golden tattoos glittering. Silence stretched between us but I didn’t dare move.

  Finally, the horde king rose.

  “Veekor, kalles,” he growled before heading to his bathing tub, which was most likely lukewarm by now. “Sleep.” />
  “What?” I whispered, shocked.

  “Go to sleep,” he repeated, stepping into the tub, assuming the position he had the previous night, his eyes closing, his arms resting on the edge, his head tilting back towards the canopy.

  I stared in disbelief at his sharp profile. My legs were still splayed wide, my chest was heaving, my cheeks were wet from my tears. Confusion warred within me.

  Slowly, I sat up and reached for my shift dress on the floor. Pulling it over my head, I snuck another glance at the horde king, but found his eyes were still closed.

  My hands shook when I smoothed it into place, my nerves still jittery, my body still warm from his touch. I felt like a stranger in my own skin, my emotions all over the place.

  He stopped, I thought in disbelief.

  He could have taken my body just now but he’d stopped.

  Why?

  Hesitantly, I looked over at him in the bathing tub. Water trickled as he began to wash, lathering up the soap in the coarse cloth before scrubbing over his skin, a duty I’d had the previous night.

  Could it…could it be that he’d felt unease? Guilt? He’d seen my tears, heard my growling belly and he’d stopped, though he’d been so aroused he groaned when he first tasted my sex.

  I was still sitting in the bed, wondering about his actions, hugging my knees to my chest, when he finished and stepped out of the bathing tub. My eyes caught his as he dried off, but he didn’t say a single word. I continued to watch him as he went around the tent, putting out the little flames from the wax candles with a sizzling twist of his fingertips, still naked, still erect.

  The horde king came to bed. Just like the previous night, he pulled the furs around him, around me, warding against the slight chill in the night air that threaded its way through the tent flaps.

  Unlike last night, he tugged me towards him in the darkness when I laid down beside him.

  His skin was shockingly warm after his bath and smelled clean, not that musky heady scent from before. The ends of his damp hair slid over my shoulder as he tucked me into his side, pushing my face into the column of his neck, resting his chin on my temple. I felt his cock settle and press into my belly.