by Zoey Draven
Screw him, I thought. There was a fire still within me, an anger. As long as I held onto that, my soul would stand a fighting chance.
Warmth enveloped my cloaked body when I stepped inside the tent. I hadn’t quite known what to expect, but my widened eyes took in luxurious surroundings, some luxuries I had never seen before.
Like plush carpets that lined the floor, soft beneath my booted feet—the soles of which were failing. Like wax candles that drenched the tent in golden light or little vases of hot oils that filled the space with a light, delicious fragrance. Like an actual bed set up on a low pallet draped in soft furs and cushions, not a simple pile of blankets on the floor like back home. Like a row of chests on the floor that glimmered with gold and the horde king’s treasures.
For a long moment, I simply stood on the threshold of the tent, taking in my new surroundings. My new prison. Because I couldn’t forget that this tent was still my cage, one I’d willingly chosen.
I didn’t dare to touch anything, though my fingers longed to stroke the soft furs on the bed. So I simply stood, waiting, glancing at the front entrance of the tent every so often. But the horde king didn’t appear, which relieved me.
Just when my eyes started to droop, when I swayed on my feet with my exhaustion, the flaps pushed open suddenly and a large bathing tub was brought in by two Dakkari males, not the guards stationed at the entrance. They didn’t meet my eyes. They simply deposited the tub along the empty space to the right, the space that wasn’t carpeted, left, and returned with huge basins of hot water. It took them multiple trips in and out of the tent to completely fill up the tub and once it was filled, they exited.
Then two Dakkari females appeared. I straightened at the sight of them, watching them warily. They were smaller than the males with plaited black hair that ended at their waists. Both females were dressed in a flowing gray shift dress that brushed the tops of their six-toed feet. Behind them, a small slit was cut out to allow for their tails, which were tipped in a dark tuft of hair.
“What are you doing?” I asked in alarm when they approached me and began to tug at my clothing, one kneeling to take off my boots, the other pushing the tatters of my cloak off my shoulders.
“The Vorakkar sent us,” one of the females said in the universal tongue, the one trying to unlace my boots. “He requests that you bathe after your long journey.”
“Ordered, you mean,” I muttered, cheeks reddening. “I don’t need one.”
It had been four days since I last bathed. Water was precious in our village and wasn’t needlessly wasted. I eyed the hot water in the bathing tub with longing, but I wondered if I could keep the horde king at bay for a few days if I refused to wash. Just a few days, to come to terms with my new life, my new purpose.
“You need one,” the female said her lips pursed, as if it was obvious. “The Vorakkar will not be disobeyed, even by you.”
What did that mean?
I was just about to protest again, but then bit my tongue. It was inevitable, just like my eventual relations with the horde king, whose name I still did not know.
Be brave, I told myself, and endure.
A thought occurred to me suddenly.
I would fulfill my promise and maybe when the horde king eventually tired of me, he would allow me to return to my village, to Kivan. Perhaps if I pleased him enough, he would take mercy on me and consider my debt paid.
I knew the likelihood of that was slim. Mithelda once again crossed my mind. She had never returned to our village, though there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that she’d been taken for the same purpose as the horde king had taken me for.
Shoulders sagging, I let them undress me without a fight. Truthfully, I was too tired to fight them, too sore.
Guilt filled me when I slid into the bathing tub…because it was wonderful and because Kivan, nor anyone in my village, would ever experience anything like it. A moan of surprise left my throat, which embarrassed me, because I’d never felt water that hot, never felt the way it could relax aching muscles and envelop me like a warm, comforting blanket.
Pain seared me as well, however. My inner thighs were chafed and raw from riding for hours on end and it stung like hell when the water soothed over the wounds.
I tensed when the two females knelt next to the bathing tub with cloths in their hands. They lathered them with soap, but I said quickly, “I can do that,” when they closed in.
As expected, they ignored me. With thorough strokes that left my cheeks flaming, they washed me from head-to-toe with efficiency, even scrubbing underneath my fingernails and toenails. They washed my dark hair twice with soap and I saw how quickly the water turned brown from dirt and dust.
One of the females suddenly yelled something towards the tent flaps, making me jump.
“Up,” she told me and wrapped me in a large fur blanket. “The water needs to be changed.”
“I’m clean,” I protested.
“Nik, the water needs to be changed. Look at the color.”
And so, I stood as the tub was carried out by three Dakkari males this time, returned once they tossed out the dirty water, and watched with a tight throat as more hot basins of water were brought in.
Such a waste.
Once the bathing tub was full again, the female ordered me back inside and I went through another scrubbing. The water remained clear, however, and I let out a little sigh of relief.
“Do you ache from the pyroki?” the female suddenly asked.
I met her eyes. They were so dark I could see the reflections of the candles in them. The other female still hadn’t spoken a word to me yet.
“The py…pyroki?” I asked, the word feeling strange on my tongue.
“You are raw here,” she noted, reaching beneath the water with her cloth to touch my inner thighs.
Realization dawned on me. “The pyroki are those creatures?”
Her eyes narrowed when I said creatures but she said, “Lysi. Pyroki.”
Lysi must mean yes, I decided.
“I’ve never ridden one before,” I told her softly, “or anything like it.”
“Your body will adjust in time,” she told me simply. “Dip your head again.”
“Why are you being so nice to me?” I couldn’t help but ask when I resurfaced, catching her gaze. Did all of the horde king’s whores—of which I was certain he had more than one—receive this kind of attention?
She blinked at the question, her eyelids painted gold. “The Vorakkar has tasked us with your care,” was all she would say.
Not a moment later, the tent flap pushed back, the horde king in question appearing.
The two females scrambled to their feet, inclining their heads, but not speaking. I froze, naked in the bathing tub. All the air seemed to leave the room as my heartbeat tripled its rhythm in my throat.
“Rothi kiv,” he said in his dark voice, his eyes finding me in the bathing tub and holding.
Immediately, the two females left after draping their washing cloths over the edge of the tub.
And suddenly, I was alone and naked with the horde king.
Chapter Four
“Kalles, you look frightened,” the horde king said. His voice sounded almost…mocking.
I stiffened in the bathing tub, indignation rising, but I tamped it down. I still had the presence of mind to recognize that he held the power over me and it would be best not to anger him.
He turned from me, which gave me a momentary sliver of relief, but it was to rummage through one of the closed chests I’d spotted earlier. Sinking lower into the bath water, making sure it covered my jutting nipples, I watched carefully as he crouched, his back muscles shifting in the golden light as he searched for something.
I let my eyes linger on him longer than I should. Just because he was my new master, it didn’t change the fact that he was visually intriguing. The gold beads and wraps in his hair flashed, the golden, swirling tattoos adorning his dark skin glimmered, those scars, long and deep,
bringing questions to my mind, though I didn’t dare voice them. He was strong and large and powerful and dangerous, a cautionary tale I’d heard since childhood made flesh.
When he stood, I saw he had a silk shift night dress in his large hands. It was practically transparent and it confirmed my suspicions that he had more than one female ‘serving’ him. Why else would he have that in his private possessions?
When he approached, I leaned forward, hugging my knees to my chest in an attempt to shield my nudity, looking up at him warily. I cursed that the water was clear now, instead of the dark brown it’d been earlier.
“Stand,” he ordered.
I froze. “What?”
“You are clean now. Stand, kalles.”
There was a challenge not only in his voice but in his eyes. He was testing me again. Why?
He’d called me brave back in my village. He’d also called me foolish. Perhaps I was both because that challenge steeled my spine and set my teeth on edge.
Slowly, I unwrapped my arms from around my knees and stood as I swallowed past the nervous lump in my throat. Would he take me this night? Was that why he wished for me to bathe? Was I to start ‘serving’ him immediately, though we’d ridden through the night, though I was chafed raw between my thighs?
The horde king’s gaze tracked over my naked body, lingering on my breasts, the curve of my hips, and the dark tuft of hair between my legs. He made a rough sound in the back of his throat and it made me jump.
“Step out,” he ordered, though his voice was considerably deeper than it’d been a moment before.
I licked my dry lips and did as he commanded, though I couldn’t suppress my wince as a twinge of sharp pain shot through my backside.
The horde king stilled. “What is it?”
Pride made me say, “Nothing.”
His eyes narrowed and he grabbed my wrist, hauling me towards him. The sudden movement made me grit my teeth, but he turned me, inspecting me.
He growled out something in Dakkari when he saw my flesh, the redness of my backside, no doubt, and then he turned me, peering between my legs, at my inner thighs.
My cheeks flamed with humiliation. I’d never been naked with a male before, not since my mother used to bathe my brother and I together when we’d been children. I wasn’t used to baring my body so freely, especially in front of rapt, attentive, yellow-rimmed eyes.
I gasped and jumped when he brushed his fingertips across my reddened, sore flesh.
“Don’t,” I protested, trying to twist away from him. But he held me still, though I squirmed.
Finally, he released my wrists. His face was tight when he turned me back around to face him and he scooped up a spare fur blanket, using it to roughly dry off my body, though his touch gentled when he reached my hips…and below.
It surprised me, but I was too nervous to let out a single breath, so I stood, frozen.
“Put this on,” he commanded, dropping the transparent night dress in my hands.
My eyes bulged. “But…but it’s…”
Not that it mattered. I was already naked in front of him. I had no dignity left, it seemed.
“Sleep bare then,” he said, with a shrug of his massive shoulders. “I would prefer it, kalles.”
That had me scrambling to pull it on over my head. I would take whatever I could get. Besides, it was clean and it was possibly the most luxurious item I’d ever felt against my skin. The material was so light it felt like air, so it wouldn’t rub against my raw skin.
Again, guilt swamped me. I shouldn’t appreciate these luxuries.
The horde king studied me though I avoided his gaze. Finally, he shifted to untie the laces of his pants, which looked to be made of the same material as the tent—tanned animal hide.
My alarmed eyes flashed up to his. “What are you doing?”
“I need to bathe after the journey,” he told me, stepping out of his pants until he was nude, except for the gold cuffs around his thick wrists. “You will wash me.”
My face burned with so much heat that I wondered if my eyeballs were red too. Actively, I avoided looking at his groin, keeping my eyes level with his neck.
But it was unavoidable. When he stepped into the bathing tub, I caught a glimpse and my mouth went as dry as the earth around our village.
He was massive. Long and thick, with a heavy, dusky, full sack swaying just below. There was a large bump just above the root of his base that protruded slightly, something human males didn’t have. And just like his body…he had two, intricate stripes of gold tattooed around his sex. One near the base of his cock and one just underneath the rounded head.
What made dread pool in my belly most was that he was erect. So hard that his cock bobbed against his taut abdomen when he stepped into the tub. I also caught a glimpse of his perfectly sculpted backside, at the strong tail that jutted out above his buttocks.
He groaned, the sound strangely erotic, when he leaned back, fully enveloped in the warm water. His eyes closed briefly, his arms coming to rest on the lip of the tub, the size of which was obviously meant for a Dakkari male, since he fit perfectly.
Despite the situation, despite what happened that night, and my pain and exhaustion from riding the pyroki…my heartbeat stuttered at the sensual sight of him.
I swallowed with difficulty, looking away, shame burning deep in my chest for finding him attractive. He’d almost killed my brother, had taken me as his whore. I needed to remember that.
His voice made me jump. “Bathe me, kalles. You promised you would serve me, did you not?”
Slowly, I knelt beside the tub, ignoring my aching soreness. I took up one of the washing cloths the Dakkari females had used on me, dipping it in the water quickly to wet it.
Then, taking a deep breath, I smoothed it over his skin, trying to copy the efficient motions the females had used on me. Otherwise, bathing him felt too…intimate.
So, with rough, quick circles, I washed his shoulders, his arms, cleaning away the dirt that had accumulated during our ride to the camp. His eyes remained closed, thankfully, and he remained still. It gave me the courage to wash below the water, to wipe across his chest, his abdomen. He lifted slightly so I could wash his back.
But washing below his waist seemed unavoidable once I’d finished.
He grunted lightly when I made one light pass over his cock. I bit my lip, looking away, and then blew out a silent breath of relief when I moved down to his long, muscular legs.
“Relax, kalles,” he murmured. When I chanced a look at him, I saw his eyes were on me, heavy lidded. “I will not fuck you this night.”
My body went tense at his words, though I also felt relieved that I’d escaped my ‘duties’ for that night. He said it so crudely, so matter-of-fact.
I’d always heard that the Dakkari were like barbarians, primitive beings that did nothing more than fuck and ride their beasts and wage war on unsuspecting settlements.
Something told me that I’d been fed untruths. At least partial ones. There was more to the Dakkari than the tall tales I’d heard since childhood, as evidenced by this very encampment, by the females and children that traveled with the hordes, by the gentle luxuries that the horde king seemed to enjoy. Nothing in that tent told me he was a primitive barbarian.
But still…
I did not know what prompted me to say it, but I told him, “Can you blame me? I’d expected to be rutted on the floor the moment you came inside. That was what I’d agreed to, was it not?”
I cursed myself once the words left my tongue.
He made a sound in the back of his throat. “Do not give me tempting ideas, kalles.”
That surprised me. He said it with no venom behind his words.
I moved onto washing his hair. It was surprisingly soft, though it looked coarse, and I threaded my soap-covered fingers through it, washing away the dirt. Once it was clean, the horde king did one final rinse and then stood from the tub, water sluicing off his body.
&nbs
p; He looked down at me, his magnificent flesh on display, his cock still hard in front of me. And I kneeled before him, in my transparent shift.
His jaw ticked and he growled, looking away. He stepped out of the tub, calling out in Dakkari towards the entrance and I gasped when the same three males appeared, taking out the bathing tub so quickly, I didn’t even have time to shield my almost-nude body from them. Not that they looked. They kept their eyes averted.
The horde king had no hesitations about his own nudity and simply dried off with the same furs I had used before draping it over the back of a steel rack at the side of the tent.
When we were alone again, I stood, wrapping my arms around me to hide my modest breasts. My hair was wet, however, drenching the fabric as it dripped, and parts of the shift molded to my body.
I tensed when he approached me and despite the heat in the tent, I shivered, my nipples pebbling against my arm.
He unthreaded my arms, placing them at my sides, looking down the front of my body the same way he had at my village. Like he could see all of me. And I supposed he could.
Tension, at least on my part, thickened the air between us.
“I had intended to rut you on the floor this night like a beast,” he murmured suddenly. “I thought of nothing else as we rode.”
I inhaled a sharp breath.
“I will wait until you heal,” he finally said.
That…surprised me.
The way he was gazing at me…no male had ever looked at me like that before. And when he reached out a hand to touch me, in desperation, in a clumsy attempt to maintain some sort of distance between us, I hurriedly asked, “Do the Dakkari often take humans as their whores? I would think your own females would suffice for that purpose.”
The horde king stilled and my blood rushed in my ears, wondering if I’d gone too far.
Silence spread thin between us.
“You believe you will be my whore, kalles?” he finally asked.
Confusion made my brows furrow and I licked my lips as I said, “Isn’t that what you meant?”
The horde king grinned, though it was small and dark. Still, it made my breath hitch.