Claimed by the Horde King (Horde Kings of Dakkar Book 2)

by Zoey Draven

  But I’d recognized the look in the Dakkari female’s eyes and knew what she wanted.

  My words caught the horde king’s attention. He turned to face me and I was briefly distracted by how his markings shimmered in the dim lighting.

  “Neffar?” he murmured, but I got the distinct impression that he’d heard me perfectly. He simply wanted me to repeat it.

  “I said she wants you. You could be nicer to her, I suppose,” I added.

  “Wants me in what way, kalles?”

  Now I got the distinct impression he was laughing at me.

  I frowned. I didn’t like being laughed at. I was only trying to fill the silence with something he might find useful.

  Except…

  My eyes narrowed on him.

  “You already know,” I accused.

  “Lysi, kalles,” he murmured, walking towards me. His eyes burned bright in the low lighting and for a moment, I held my breath. “I already know.”

  Swallowing, my brow furrowed when he slipped around me to kneel at the low table, the one I was beginning to understand was only for taking meals at.

  “Come,” he said.

  I mirrored his actions, hiding my wince when I knelt. The black liquid the healer had given me for the pain that morning had begun to wear off.

  When I felt him studying me, I commented, “You hardly looked at her. How would you know?”

  “She has been with my horde for a few years now,” he informed me. “She has made her intentions clear.”

  “Intentions?”

  “She aspires to be Morakkari,” he told me. “As do others.”

  “Morakkari?” I asked softly, the strange word filtering over my tongue. I thought that like kalles, Morakkari was a pretty word, one I liked.

  “My queen,” he told me. His voice went slightly lower as he added, “My wife.”

  Something pierced my chest at his words and I looked down at the food on the table.

  “Oh,” was all I said, though I had numerous questions bubbling up inside my mind.

  Thinking about it, I figured he was right. He was beautiful—handsome, masculine, and seemingly virile. He was powerful, a king in his own right. Wasn’t that what females wanted in their chosen male? Beauty and power and sex?

  Now that I thought about it, I wondered why half the females in the horde weren’t at his tent, trying to deliver his meals every night.

  “What are you thinking of, thissie?” he rasped and when I looked up at him, I saw him studying me, his brow furrowed. There was an expression etched into his face, one that reminded me of frustration, but why would he be frustrated?

  “Nothing,” I said, looking back down at the food. “Can I eat now?”

  A muscle in his jaw ticked and he tilted his head down. I took that as my yes and I plucked a chunk of meat from the plate.

  There was a lot of food, almost four times as much as that morning. In the back of my mind, I thought that this much food would last me a whole week in my village and I mentally determined how I would ration it.

  It took me long moments and many stuffed mouthfuls to realize that he wasn’t eating. He was watching me from across the low table and seemed very content to do so.

  His gaze made me uncomfortable and I snatched my hand back when I realized it was outstretched towards the purple bread loaf.

  Tucking my hands in my lap, I licked my lips and stared at the golden inlaid design on the wooden table.

  “Here,” he rasped a stretch of silence later. When I looked up, he was offering me a small plate of shriveled greens I’d ignored in favor of the meat. “Try.”

  With hesitation, I took one from the plate and he set it back on the table, taking one himself and chewing it. I watched the way his strong jaw worked and felt a little of my unease drain when he began eating too.

  I ate the cold, withered green, but made a noise when the strange flavor burst on my tongue. It was tart and tangy and delicious.

  The demon king’s lips quirked when he saw me reach for another, but he didn’t say anything more during our meal together and I didn’t either.

  When my belly was full to the point of bursting, I waited for him to finish, since I thought that was the polite thing to do. Jana had always told me so and she’d grown up on one of the old Earth colonies, before they’d been destroyed. Out of the corner of my eye, I studied his markings again. They were intricate and detailed and beautiful.

  When I met his eyes, I jolted as I realized he’d caught me looking at them. I didn’t want him to think I’d been admiring his chest, like the Dakkari female had, so I asked quickly, “Are those symbols Dakkari words?”

  “Lysi,” he murmured.

  “What do they say?” I asked. Jana had been able to read, but she’d never taught me, though I had begged her many times.

  He finished chewing his last bite and I saw the thick, golden column of his throat bob as he swallowed.

  “They are my Vorakkar markings,” he told me after a lengthy pause. “My oath to protect my horde above all else.”

  I looked at them as if I could read them. There was a looping shape with two perfect dots inside it and I wondered what that word meant. I wondered what exactly a Vorakkar oath would say.

  “Have you always been so curious?” he asked me.

  “Yes,” I replied immediately, tearing my eyes away from the beautiful, foreign words and looking down into my lap. My wounds gave another sharp throb and I swallowed. “Jana hated it. She told me that it was dangerous to be so curious all the time, to want to know so many things.”

  “Who is Jana?” he rumbled. “Your mother?”

  My breath hitched and my gaze jerked up at him. “No. No, I was orphaned on my way to Dakkar. Jana…just happened to be there.”

  I’d called Jana my mother once when I’d been young. She’d grown so angry that I’d never attempted it again.

  His expression was unreadable, but I saw the way his eyes narrowed on me, pinning me in place. Those eyes held mine, ate at me, and my throat grew tight when I realized the demon was doing it again.

  It was a relief when I heard a Dakkari announce his presence at the tent’s entrance and I jerked my gaze away from him with a shuddering inhale.

  “Lysi,” the horde king called out and I jumped when the tent flaps slapped back.

  Not just one but three Dakkari males entered, carrying in buckets of steaming hot water, pouring them into the bathing tub that still remained from that morning, though it’d been emptied sometime during my nap.

  When they left, I sat, frozen on my cushion.

  “Do you wish to bathe first?” came his low voice.

  Swallowing, I watched a trail of steam rise from the surface of the water. I’d never taken a hot bath before. What was it like?

  “No,” I choked out. “Of course not. That is inappropriate.”

  That was what Jana would’ve said, right?

  The corner of his lips lifted ever so slightly but he stood.

  “Very well,” he said, walking to the bathing tub.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, my voice reminding me of the Dakkari boy’s high-pitched laugh from earlier that morning.

  He didn’t look at me as he unlaced his hide pants and slid them down his legs, being mindful of his tail.

  I blinked, frozen, as the expanse of his bare flesh came into view. For once, my thoughts momentarily went silent.

  “Bathing,” he told me, as if it were obvious.

  Chapter Nine

  I think I let out a small squeak of outrage. I couldn’t be certain.

  All I knew was that I was staring. The demon king effortlessly dropped into the large bathing tub and between his legs, I saw that his massive cock was somewhat erect, swinging with his movements.

  Panic seeped into my veins, freezing me in place.

  I blinked and stuttered out, “You know, I-I…I’m not like that.”

  When the demon king sank low into his bath, he made a grunt of pleasure, his ey
es momentarily sliding shut as the hot water enveloped his body. My mind caught on that detail and I imagined being cocooned in complete, delicious, soothing heat that way. Longing grew in my heart, even though it fluttered with panicked disbelief.

  “Like what, thissie?” he rasped, a splash of water meeting my ears as he scooped water over his broad shoulders.

  I jerked my gaze away, tapping a rhythm on my wrist with my fingertip. I desperately ached for my bow. I needed that centered focus, that simple act of calm as I nocked my arrow and drew it back. As I inhaled a slow breath and then...released. I used to practice on the wall of my home.

  “If this is your plan, keeping me here as a prisoner, all for the purpose of...of sex, your efforts will be wasted,” I explained in a rush. “I think I am quite immune to such things.”

  When I chanced a peek over at him, I saw him regarding me, carefully analyzing my words.

  “You are immune to what, exactly?” he rasped.

  “Sex,” I told him, frowning. “Desire. Need. I don’t feel those things.”

  “I think you are lying,” he said, ignoring what I was trying to tell him.

  “And even if I did feel those things, it wouldn’t be for you,” I said, irritated and nervous. The tapping on my wrist grew faster.

  He went still in the bath at my words. Then he rasped, “If you are immune to such things, if you are immune to me, then my bathing should not bother you, thissie. Certainly not this much.”

  I bit the insides of my cheeks hard and made a conscious effort to slow my breathing.

  “I am just informing you now, since I must sleep here tonight,” I told him. “The last male who tried to take from me ended up with my arrow in his shoulder.”

  Silence came from the bathing tub except for an odd scratching noise. When I looked up to identify it, I saw his claws were curled into the sides of the tub, gouging marks into it.

  Momentarily, I forgot that I wasn’t supposed to look too deep into those eyes and he snared mine quickly as punishment. Right then, he looked every bit like an enraged demon, from the scowl on his face to the scorching heat in his eyes.

  “And did he?” he growled, his voice darkening. “Take from you?”

  “No,” I whispered. “I told you. I had my arrow and…”

  The look in his eyes was making me nervous, but oddly enough, it made me stop tapping on my wrist. The look in his eyes made my body still and my mind quiet.

  I had a ridiculous thought that maybe Jana was wrong. Maybe letting a demon take your soul wasn’t such a terrible thing. It didn’t feel like a terrible thing. Not right then at least. I felt almost calm.

  “Who was it?”

  “What?” I whispered.

  “What is his name?” he said slowly, but clearly.

  “I thought it was rude to ask for names,” I said, wondering why he would ask, given what he’d told me that morning.

  “Vok,” he cursed under his breath before jerking his gaze away. Released of his eyes, I felt my shoulders sag and my nerves return. “You are…”

  I waited, tensed and quiet.

  Then my eyes shot to him when he rose from the bath, water racing off his bared flesh. Miles and miles and miles of it. I remembered that I’d thought of him as a wall when I’d first seen him. A wall of strength and power, one that took up the entirety of my vision. All I could see right then was him. Even the tent seemed to fall away.

  He trailed water all over the rugs as he stalked to a metal chest. He rummaged through it, found what it was he sought, and came towards me, all naked flesh and sinewed power. The sight of him made my throat bob and my eyes wander. For once, I cursed my own curiosity as I felt my cheeks grow warm.

  He halted in front of me, his cock swaying between his legs, his heavy, dusky sack just beneath.

  Before I had time to react, he dropped something in my lap and then returned to his bath.

  A gift? I wondered, my breath hitching when I looked down at it. It was a dagger hilted inside a beautiful sheath of white bone, etched in gold pigment.

  Pulling out the dagger, I saw it was lethally sharp. I could see my reflection in it and I peered more closely, seeing my pale face and dark eyes. I wished I was more beautiful, but figured it couldn’t be helped. It was a ridiculous, vain thing to wish for anyways.

  “Is…is this for me?” I asked him softly, slowly. With hesitation, I looked over at him. He’d situated himself back inside his hot bath, the steam twirling around him. He’d dunked his head under water and his blond hair dripped droplets over his shoulders.

  “Lysi,” he grunted.

  “I can keep this?” I asked, looking down at the dagger, wanting to be sure. “It’s a gift?”

  He exhaled a rough breath. “Lysi. A gift.”

  “Oh,” I said, staring at my reflection in the blade. I’d never been given a gift before. My expression was perplexed, my lips turned down. “What do you want for it?”

  “Neffar?”

  “What do you expect for it in return?”

  “I just told you it is a gift,” he growled, glaring at me.

  “Nothing is free,” I told him. “There is always a reason.”

  “That reason,” he rasped, “is so you know you can protect yourself if the occasion arises. That is Dakkari steel, forged by blade masters in Dothik. It is far better and far sharper than any arrow and I give you my full permission to gut me with it if you feel unsafe in my presence.”

  “Are you mad?” I asked softly, disturbed that he was so trusting. “You don’t know me. I could kill you in your sleep tonight if I so choose.”

  “Vok, thissie, you will drive me mad by the night’s end,” he growled. “Enough. Let me enjoy my bath in peace.”

  Looking back down at the blade, I touched the tip, testing its sharpness. Only using the lightest of pressure, a bead of red blood appeared on my fingertip. Satisfied, I sucked the drop away and sheathed the dagger carefully.

  “Will you react this way every time I give you a gift?” he muttered, as if he couldn’t help but ask the question, though he’d demanded peace.

  I frowned, though a treacherous excitement wound its way up my chest. “Will there be more?”

  He said something in Dakkari, a longer phrase that he knew I wouldn’t be able to understand. Then he went quiet.

  “You…” I trailed off, looking at the dagger, wondering if I would have need of it while I remained in the Dakkari horde’s encampment. “You really don’t want me in that way, right?”

  He was a horde king of Dakkar. I was a human. Surely, males like him expected their bedmates to be more experienced, more beautiful, more sensual. As for me, even if I was interested in sex, I wouldn’t pick the fierce demon king who’d ordered my whipping as my first lover. I would want someone tender and kind and gentle. I was quite certain he was none of those things.

  “I never said that,” came his deep reply and a shiver raced up my spine, “but I assure you, thissie, that you will be more than willing in my furs when that time comes for us.”

  When. Not if. As if it was a certain thing.

  If I’d been the surprised, gaping sort, my jaw would’ve dropped to the ground right then.

  But all I did was glare at him, tracing the inlaid gold on the dagger’s sheath.

  “Is that why you brought me here? Why am I to sleep in your bed tonight?”

  “Nik, thissie,” he said and I wondered why he kept calling me thissie. I wondered what it meant, but knew it was the wrong time to ask.

  “Then tell me why I am here,” I demanded, growing frustrated. “Tell me why you took me from my village, why you had your healer tend to me day and night though my wounds were of your doing, why you give me gifts like this dagger and these clothes, and why I will share your bed this night, though I have been here five days already, and surely that was enough time for you to make other, proper, more…more appropriate arrangements.”

  I was shivering as I spoke, perhaps a little frightened by how he migh
t react, though I’d told him earlier I had no reason to fear him. Looking at him now, the grey rings of his irises freezing me into place, I thought that perhaps I’d been wrong. There were plenty of reasons to fear him, just not the reasons I would’ve believed at first.

  “You call me a demon,” he said quietly, “because you believe I am stealing your soul away. But I already told you, Nelle, that if I am a demon, then so are you. Because you are stealing more of mine right at this moment.”

  His words made goosebumps break out over my flesh, underneath the warm kinnu fur sweater.

  “That is why I took you from your village. Why you are here.”

  “I—I don’t understand,” I whispered, frustrated. “I don’t understand what you want from me.”

  With a growl, he tore his gaze away from mine and leaned his head back on the lip of the tub, staring up at the ceiling of the tent. He splashed his face with water and then rested his wrists on the edge, water from his claws dripping onto the rug.

  “I do not understand either,” was all he said in reply.

  All I heard was the soft thumping of my own heart and a slight, whistling wind that picked up outside the tent.

  I didn’t know how long we remained in silence, but it wasn’t long after that I realized my legs were numb underneath me.

  When the horde king finally stood from the bathing tub, I kept my gaze averted. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him reach for a wrap of fur to dry himself off with.

  “You cannot return to your village until after the cold season,” he said, his hair dripping across his shoulders, his voice hard and strange. “I will not task my warriors with making that journey now. Until then, you can make yourself useful here. There is much to be done in a horde, even after the first frost.”

  Biting my lip, I offered hesitantly, “I am good with my bow.”

  He made a sound in the back of his throat and tossed the fur aside, close to the raised fire basin, so it could dry.

  “I know, kalles. I saw you hunt the rikcrun that night,” he rasped and I felt shame fill my chest. “But there is no game during the cold season here and so I will find you another task.”