by Zoey Draven
I blinked at the intimate embrace, torn between wanting to pull away and wanting to accept it. I’d never been held this way before, by anyone.
Neither of us slept yet, though long moments passed.
And maybe the darkness made me brave, maybe it was because I couldn’t see his face, could only feel his warmth, but I whispered, “Will you tell your name, horde king?”
My future was uncertain. At the very least I knew that my immediate future would be tied to his. It was only fitting I knew his name, so I could call him by something other than ‘horde king’ or ‘Vorakkar.’
“You do not know much about the Dakkari, do you, kalles?” was his answer. I felt his vocal cords vibrate against my forehead.
“No,” I replied truthfully, wondering why they tiptoed around something as simple as names. “I do not.”
“Except one, no Dakkari knows my given name among my horde,” he told me. “None ever will.”
“I’m not Dakkari,” I pointed out.
He made a sound in the back of his throat. For a moment I thought it sounded amused. “Nik, kalles, you are not.”
I waited for a long time, but eventually decided that I would have to call him Vorakkar. Just like everyone else. A strange part of me found disappointment in that.
Which was why I was surprised when he finally said, “I will offer you my given name on two conditions.”
Curiosity and wariness made me ask, “What are they?”
“You never speak it where it can be overheard by my horde,” he said.
“And the other?” I asked.
“You will eat once you wake.”
I inhaled a small, surprised breath through my nostrils.
Logically, I knew I couldn’t go even another couple days without eating something. But I still felt an incredible guilt weighing on my shoulders when I thought of eating fresh meat and having a full belly. What did that even taste like, feel like?
Softly, I said, “I will have the broth.” The horde king made a noise of protest and I said, “We have broth in our rations. I will eat that and nothing more.”
“Stubborn kalles,” he murmured. But he let out a deep sigh. “You will eat the entire portion I give you?”
“Yes,” I whispered. “I promise.”
The horde king pressed his hand to the back of my head and I felt his lips brush my ear, felt his tail curl around my calf.
“Arokan,” he rasped softly, sending goosebumps over my arms. “My given name is Arokan of Rath Kitala. Now, sleep, kalles.”
Arokan.
I did as he asked with his name ringing in my mind.
Chapter Eight
When I woke, Arokan was gone again. Only that time, I hadn’t heard him leave the bed.
In the light of day, some of which filtered through the very top of the domed tent, casting little pools of light on the furs, I was even more confused than I’d been the previous night.
The furs tickled my bare legs since my shift dress had ridden up during the night. I could distinctly remember the heat of his tongue running up my body, the feel of it between my thighs.
The absence of it when he stopped.
I exhaled a sharp breath through my nostrils.
Whatever thoughts I had about the horde king, however, I didn’t need to dwell on so I pushed them from my mind as I pushed up from the bed I’d shared with him.
As if waiting for any sign of movement within the tent, my two piki entered without hesitation. Mirari was carrying another tray of food and Lavi had her bundle of supplies they would no doubt use on me again that morning.
Was this what my life would be like until the horde king tired of me? To sleep beside him and stay sequestered in a tent during the day, to be bathed and clothed and coifed for no reason at all?
“The Vorakkar sends you this,” Mirari said with a slight incline of her head in greeting. She set the tray down onto the same low table as yesterday. Except this time I saw that instead of numerous bowls of food…there was a single bowl filled with steaming broth. “He says you are to eat it all and if you do not…then we must tell him.”
It was a giant bowl of broth.
I pressed my lips together, remembering our agreement. He’d said he would give me his name in exchange for eating the entire portion he would give me. Only, he hadn’t mentioned that the portion would be four or five times larger than what it normally would be in our ration packs.
“Right,” I said softly, pressing a hand to my empty stomach. Then I sighed as I walked to the low table and sat on a cushion.
Mirari watched me out of the corner of her eye as I picked up the bowl in both hands and brought it to my lips.
Flavor burst on my palate, delicious and savory. It was possibly the best thing I’d ever tasted and I only felt a slight twinge of guilt as I swallowed the mouthful I’d taken in. I could feel how the broth traveled to my waiting belly, how it warmed a path inside me.
Closing my eyes, I drank more and I hated that it tasted so good, nothing like the bland, watery soup we were given in our rations. It was rich and fatty and delicious.
It took me only a few moments to finish the entire bowl. By the time I was done, I felt…full. A strange, foreign, even uncomfortable sensation. I felt like my stomach would burst.
But the hunger was gone. That was something.
After my meal, I let the piki do what they did yesterday without a fuss. From their bundle, they dragged a fresh outfit—two different outfits in two days when I’d had two in total for the past couple years—just as revealing as the last.
It was a gold-collared top, just like yesterday, that showed my naval and left my arms and most of my back bare. The skirt was asymmetrical, long on one side, while short on the other, so short that it barely covered my backside. The same pair of sandals were strapped to my feet and Lavi did what she did yesterday with my hair.
Thankfully, Mirari didn’t touch the cosmetics, nor did she try to convince me to use some.
I stayed silent through the whole process. Even when Mirari put some salve on my inner thighs.
However, she hesitated as she asked, “Would you like some for inside?”
Inside? I thought, my brow furrowing in confusion.
It took me a moment to realize what she meant and when I did, my cheeks flamed.
She assumed Arokan mated me last night, seeing as how she’d prepared me for it the previous night.
She thought I was sore, or perhaps that he’d been too rough or too large.
I cleared my throat and shook my head. “He didn’t…we didn’t do that.”
Mirari blinked. “He will wait until the black moon?”
Black moon?
“I don’t know,” I answered, because it was the easiest answer to give. Arokan had told me little about my purpose there. And what he had told me…scared me.
Yesterday, he’d told me again that I would be his queen, that he would fill my belly with his seed and get me heavy with his heirs.
He must think that humans and Dakkari could procreate. Was that my purpose? To be his breeder? Why didn’t he sire heirs on a Dakkari female? Surely that would be easier.
Mirari didn’t say anything in reply but she murmured something in Dakkari to Lavi, who stood and left the tent.
“Do the Dakkari often take humans from their settlements?” I asked softly.
Mirari jerked her head to look at me.
“You speak the universal tongue,” I commented. “So do others. For what purpose other than to speak to us?”
“To communicate,” Mirari said, as if it were obvious. “Most who have lived in Dothik can speak it. It is not just humans who live on Dakkar now. Even beyond our planet, the language is useful.”
“Dothik?” I asked.
“Our capital. Where the Dothikkar lives, our king.”
My lips parted. “I thought the horde kings ruled over your lands.”
“They do,” Mirari replied. “The Dothikkar stays in the capital. He ha
ndles…other matters, political matters. Our king was born into his rank. The Vorakkars earn it. They are our protectors and providers, celebrated kings in their own right.”
I thought of Arokan and wondered what he’d done to ‘earn it.’
I knew nothing about him, I knew next to nothing about the Dakkari, which Arokan had commented on last night.
But how could I? We knew of the Dakkari through rumor and whisperings only, none of them good.
“Why do the Dakkari not like to give their names?”
Mirari blinked and her gold-painted eyelids flashed.
“We believe,” Mirari started slowly, “that names have power over us. Dakkari give their true names to those who are important to them, who they trust not to abuse that power. Sometimes, however, names are given for just the opposite reason, to show that they do not respect the one they give it to, as an insult, to show that they are so low in their eyes as to not warrant concern.”
My lips parted. How would I ever understand this contradicting culture?
“And the Vorakkar?” I asked softly.
“Horde kings keep their given names especially close,” Mirari said. “No one needs to know it because the Vorakkars wield the ultimate power over their hordes. To know the Vorakkar’s true name would be an insult to him.”
But he gave me his name, I thought. For nothing more than my promise to eat a bowl of broth.
I didn’t think I understood. At least not entirely.
“Did I…did I offend you when I asked yours and Lavi’s?” I asked, wanting to know.
Mirari tilted her head to the side. “Nik. You are our Missiki, our Mistress, and soon to be our Morakkari. We serve you and it is a great honor to do so.”
“Even though I’m human and not Dakkari?” I couldn’t help but question.
She hesitated. “We respect the Vorakkar’s decisions. It is our duty as members of his horde.”
Her answer left me a little uneasy.
“But are there those that resent me being here?” I asked.
Again, she hesitated. It told me what I needed to know.
A moment later, Lavi appeared, pushing past the thick tent flaps. She held one open, however, allowing light to pool inside.
“Come, Missiki,” Mirari said, guiding me over to the entrance. “The Vorakkar is ready for you.”
Ready for me?
Sunlight blinded me when I stepped out of the tent. It was unusually warm that day for the season and I felt that heat across my bared flesh, like fingers against my skin.
Two guards were positioned at the front entrance of the tent, on either side, but they didn’t look at me. They kept their gazes averted.
Arokan stood a short distance away from the tent, speaking with the Dakkari male that had also come to my village, the messenger. Their tones were low and Arokan’s gaze met mine the moment I stepped outside.
The messenger’s eyes cut to me as well and I watched his lips press together. Perhaps he was one of the Dakkari that resented me being there.
Arokan said something and the messenger left him, stalking towards the pen of the pyroki that lay a short distance away. The horde king approached me and I couldn’t help the shiver that raced up my spine at the sight of him….couldn’t help remembering his heat and his tongue between my thighs.
He was dressed as he was yesterday, in nothing more than a heavy cloth that covered his genitals, held up by a golden belt, and thick boots. His exposed shoulders and chest were bronzed from the strong Dakkari sun, those intricate, swirling designs of gold ink glittering as he moved towards me.
He looked every bit the barbarian Dakkari warrior I’d heard from rumors. Only now, I knew his scent. I knew his warmth and the feel of his body against me as he slept.
Arokan of Rath Kitala.
Feeling flustered, I looked from him, past him to the horde settlement spread out across the land.
In the sunlight, it was even larger than I’d originally thought.
Dozens and dozens and dozens of domed, hide tents were spread across the settlement, slightly smaller than Arokan’s. I saw smoke rising between them with mild alarm, but I saw that the fires were contained, raised off the ground in golden barrels so it didn’t scorch the earth.
Some Dakkari were working the pyroki pens, hauling in meat and fresh water for the black-scaled beasts of my nightmares. There were over a hundred of them enclosed in the pen, just a short distance away.
“You ate the broth?” Arokan asked me when he was within arm’s reach.
My eyes flashed up to his and my spine straightened ever so slightly. “I said I would, didn’t I?”
“Every last drop?” he asked softly, those yellow-rimmed eyes on me.
“Yes,” I said. “Although if you made the portion any bigger, I wouldn’t have been able to.”
“Come then,” Arokan said, seeming satisfied with my answers. “My horde will see you now.”
He turned and began walking, those scars across his back pulling. I looked behind me, saw that Lavi and Mirari remained in the tent, and hesitantly began to follow Arokan.
When I caught up to him, I asked, “What do you mean?”
He didn’t answer me. Yesterday, Mirari had said something about Arokan ‘presenting me.’ Was that what this was?
Letting out a small sigh, I simply walked with him because I didn’t know what else to do. Slightly behind him, actually, because his legs and strides were much longer than mine.
At least I’m outside, I thought, deciding to enjoy it. The air was fresh, the sun warm. Every so often, I caught a stray whiff of pyroki, whenever the wind changed. Sometimes, I even caught Arokan’s scent.
Within the settlement, it seemed like a flurry of activity. I spied many Dakkari milling between the spaces of each tent, hauling baskets of wood, or food, or cloth. I heard the distant, strange laughter of Dakkari young, saw some dart between the tents as we walked, peering at us curiously. I heard metal clanging together, like a blacksmith shop, of swords being forged. I saw what looked like a training ground, with young Dakkari males sparring with spears and blades.
The further we walked into the settlement, the larger notice we drew. Every Dakkari we passed stopped and stared at me, though I noticed that whenever I returned their gaze, they darted their eyes away. It didn’t matter if it was males, females, or children…no one would look at me directly.
Many had already seen me. I remembered that first night, when Arokan’s horde had greeted him, touching his pyroki, his legs and mine, as we rode through the camp.
But perhaps in the light of day, it was different.
It was intimidating.
I was the only human in a camp full of Dakkari. And I stuck out like one.
It didn’t help that I was practically naked. The clothes covered my breasts and my collarbones and my lower half, but not much more.
I did notice, however, that many Dakkari females also wore revealing clothing, despite their age. Some females were even topless, baring their large breasts to the sun. Most of the males only wore a cloth over their sex, just like Arokan.
It was something else I would need to get used to, a difference, of which I was sure there were many, between Dakkari and human culture.
We made multiple passes throughout the entire settlement, so many that by the end of it, my thighs were rubbed a little raw again.
Arokan had said his horde would see me and he’d been right. I didn’t think a single Dakkari hadn’t by the time we were finished.
Throughout it all, Arokan didn’t look at me once. Whenever I tried to ask him a question—about something we passed, about how many Dakkari lived in his horde, about the training grounds, about the bustling cooking area I spied—he remained silent. He ignored me—completely ignored me—like I hadn’t spoken at all, like I didn’t even exist.
It was dismissive and humiliating, especially considering that his horde was witness to it.
So by the time we returned to the tent, after we both st
epped inside and Arokan dismissed Mirari and Lavi, once we were alone, I was irritated and unsure and my face was burning in embarrassment.
His eyes finally turned to me and he watched me for a brief, silent moment. It felt strange to finally have his gaze on me.
“What was that?” I asked quietly.
“I presented you to my horde,” he said, as if it was obvious.
“Not that,” I said. “You expected me to follow you, like I was an animal, and you ignored me like one.”
Arokan’s eyes narrowed. “Do not question my actions, kalles. I expect you to obey me, especially among my horde.”
I bristled. “Am I just a—a pet to you? You feed me and touch me and clothe me and brush my hair and I’m expected to do whatever you want?”
“You agreed to it,” he rasped, taking a step towards me. “Even if I considered you my ‘pet’ as you call it, you agreed to it, kalles.”
“Do you even know my name?” I asked, surprisingly stung by his words and I didn’t even know why. “Do you even care?”
“Luna,” he answered swiftly. My lips parted, my body stilling as I heard it curl off his tongue. “That was what your brother called you, was it not?”
Stunned, I looked down to my feet, slightly dirty from the walk around the camp. Hearing my name from his lips felt…wrong. Different. Strange.
“Whether I care,” he hissed next, “does not matter. You are not Luna anymore. Not here. You will be my Morakkari. You will be the Morakkari of my horde and you will show your respect of me when we are among them. Whatever I demand of you, you will do without question because I am still their Vorakkar. It does not matter what you want. It matters what they see, what they think. I will not have you threaten that. Do you understand me?”
Disbelief made my head swim. He wanted to take my identity away, my past. He wanted my only purpose to be him, his people.
“Go to hell, Arokan,” I whispered, deliberately using his name.
His hand flashed out and he gripped my arm, just above my bicep, dragging me towards him until he loomed over me. His eyes were furious, his slim nostrils flaring.