Captive Of The Horde King

by Zoey Draven

  But still, I resisted him by saying, “You might be disappointed. It could be a girl.”

  His lips curled, the sight so shocking that I was momentarily struck dumb.

  “She will be treasured. A princess of the horde,” he murmured. “But we will have many children. It does not matter if a female comes first.”

  I gasped when he flipped me in one smooth, quick motion, until I was facedown on the furs. His large palms spanned my hips and he tugged hard, bringing me up onto my hands and knees with him positioned behind me.

  “Ohhh,” I moaned when I felt his tongue lick over my sex, when I felt my belly quiver when it found my throbbing clit. “No, no,” I whispered, squeezing my eyes shut.

  “Lysi,” he growled in reply before he returned, using that expert tongue on me. “Lysi.”

  Pleasure was like a sharp blade and I was walking on the edge. It cut me, knowing that I was enjoying this, knowing that even as I protested, I was rocking my hips back at him for more. It cut me because I didn’t know why I was still afraid.

  “Please,” I whispered, but I didn’t know if it was directed at Arokan or myself. “Please.”

  “You are ready, kalles,” he said. “You ache for me, whether you will admit it to yourself or not.”

  I perceived him moving behind me, the furs underneath me shifting. His hand, calloused, rough, but warm, ran down the length of my spine. When he didn’t move, I summoned the courage to look behind me, directly into his eyes.

  “Rinavi leika,” he murmured, his tail moving to wrap around one of my thighs, keeping me in place. One of his hands gripped my hips and the other…the other moved up, past my shoulder blades to wrap around the gold collar at my throat.

  I inhaled a sharp breath, my eyes widening at the possessive, dominant position.

  “Rinavi leika,” he repeated, his voice almost…awed. “You are beautiful, rei Morakkari.”

  I cried out when he thrust into me, his grip on my hips pulling me towards his thick, hot length. Blood rushed in my ears and over it, I heard his bellow of pleasure as his cock slid inside.

  Pain pricked me, a sharp twisting pinch.

  “Wait,” I whispered, my brows furrowing.

  Arokan’s eyes met mine. That wild look was present, that untamed emotion from earlier. He growled, a purely animalistic sound, but did as I asked, though his grip on my throat and my hips tightened, as if worried I would move away.

  The pain was fleeting and Arokan kept my gaze throughout it all, half-sheathed inside me. He wanted to fuck me, I saw it in his gaze. He wanted to consume me, to claim me, to make me his.

  My whole body shivered at that thought as the pain slowly melted away, only to be replaced by the foreign sensation of fullness.

  A moment later, I felt him move, testing me. I felt him retreat from my body, only to drive back in with a forceful thrust.

  Lips parting, I couldn’t help the gasping moan that tore from my throat.

  That was all the permission Arokan needed.

  That hand on my throat flexed as he began to fuck me the way I’d imagined a horde king would. Dominant, almost savage, thrusts into my waiting sex, as if I was made for his pleasure, as if he owned me. Perhaps he did. Perhaps this was what it felt like to be owned, collared and fucked into frightening pleasure.

  Beneath me, my breasts swayed and bobbed with every hard pound of his cock, the heavy plate of my golden necklace jingling in time with his thrusts. My hair fell over my shoulder, tickling my nipples, moving back and forth. Everything was in motion. My arms shook as they held me up, my buttocks clenched, my belly quivered.

  “Your cunt is perfect, kalles,” he growled behind me, punctuating his words with strong thrusts, as if to emphasize his point. “Hot and tight for me. Vok!”

  “Ohh!” I cried out when he picked up his pace even more, the sound of flesh against flesh filling the tent. I felt the sway and slap of his heavy sack against the back of my thighs.

  And then I felt something else. That small rounded bump just above the base of his cock…it began to harden. It began to vibrate in pulsing, throbbing beats, in time with his heart.

  “Arokan!” I whimpered, feeling it press against my puckered, private flesh with every thrust, a wicked, strange sensation that made me crazed.

  “Lysi, kalles,” he rasped. “Cry out my name when I fuck you, so you know you owns your body. So you know who owns this cunt.”

  Oh goddess. His words made crazed too.

  Squeezing my eyes shut against the rapidly rising pleasure, feeling that hard bump stimulate me, feeling him deep inside, stretching and filling me to the very brim…it was too much.

  My spine arched as I reared back my hips to meet his thrusts. I didn’t care anymore about what this meant, didn’t care that he’d taken me from my village, that he had claimed my body and my life though I barely knew him.

  I didn’t care because all I wanted to do was cum.

  “Yes, yes,” I moaned, my nipples pebbling even tighter, my arms shaking. That hand at my throat pressed and squeezed and after a particularly savage, deep thrust, I began to orgasm. “Ooh yes!”

  “Vok!” Arokan cured loudly as my sex began to clench around his length and that vibration from his bump only increased, becoming stronger. “Luna!”

  The strongest orgasm of my life consumed me, stretching from one moment to the next.

  I hated him. I hated that he alone could make me feel this way, that he alone could control my body this way.

  But it didn’t take away the fact that I came so hard I saw darkness and stars. I came so hard I was momentarily lost to the world, time completely erased when I resurfaced.

  When it was over, I was trembling and my arms collapsed beneath me, though he never ceased his brutal, claiming thrusts into my body.

  He was fucking his queen. He was fucking me like a barbaric horde king of the Dakkari and I hated that I loved it.

  With a growl, he pulled out of me and flipped me again until I was flat on my back. He tugged my hips down, maneuvering me so he could easily pound inside me, filling me even as my sex continued to flutter around him.

  My brows pulled together, a rough cry tearing from my throat when that bump pressed into my sensitive clit with every thrust.

  Too much, too much! I feared I would cum again when I’d only just stopped.

  Arokan’s yellow gaze was on me. His golden tattoos glittered in the candlelight of the warm tent, the expanse of his broad chest only hindered by the stitched gash I’d sewn up earlier that afternoon.

  Perfect, golden flesh, perfectly sculpted into a magnificent male who used that magnificent body against me.

  When he ground his hips into me, that vibrating bump made me scream. Like a crazed animal, I dug my fingernails into his flesh, my eyes rolling into the back of my head as I orgasmed for a second time.

  I heard his roar of pleasure a moment later, felt his hips drive into me, hard and unyielding. Another foreign sensation overcame me when I felt his seed shoot into me, bathing my inner, flexing walls, filling me up like his cock had. I groaned, my chest heaving, even as I rocked into him for more.

  Once it was over, Arokan collapsed next me, a deep sound revving from his chest, a sound I’d never heard before.

  Before I knew it, his lips were on mine.

  I gasped into his mouth and he used that opportunity to stroke that tongue deep inside, soft and slow and hot.

  I guess Dakkari do kiss, I thought, exhausted, unsure of what or even how I should feel.

  He groaned as I opened for him. Opened for him, just like Mirari had suggested.

  As my body calmed, as my breathing slowly returned to normal, as I perceived his seed beginning to leak from between my thighs, he continued to kiss me.

  And I responded, dizzy with how gentle he was.

  Soon, he pulled away. Looking deep into my eyes, his arm curled under my head, wrapping around the nape of my neck.

  With a fierce whisper, he said, “Rei Morakkari.
You are mine now.”

  My eyelids fluttered, drunk off pleasure and physical exhaustion and a full belly.

  Drunk off him.

  He had claimed me. Just like I’d always known he would.

  And as I fell into a deep sleep, my last thought was: is there anything left of me that he can claim?

  I didn’t think so.

  Chapter Thirteen

  When I woke the next morning, my whole body ached in places I never even knew existed.

  And for once, Arokan was still in bed beside me.

  My head was resting on his shoulder, in virtually the same position I’d fallen asleep in, making me wonder if I’d moved a single inch. He was warm, his eyelids were closed, and his chest was rising and falling in a smooth, soft motion.

  Wincing when I moved my legs, I felt a sharp twinge deep inside my body.

  It was enough to wake Arokan, who jolted from sleep in an instant, making me tense.

  He made that deep, rumbling sound in his chest again and his yellow-rimmed eyes tracked over my face, studying me.

  His eyelids lowered slightly and I gasped when his hand moved beneath the furs, moving to cup my sex, his intentions clear.

  My breath hitching in alarm, I grabbed his wrist and held it in place. Biting my lip, I whispered, “I’m sore.”

  He blinked, clarity returning to his gaze and he sat up in the bed, removing the furs off our bodies, exposing our nudity to the chilly air.

  I resisted the urge to cover myself from his seeking eyes, but I forced my hands to remain in place, knowing that he’d seen every part of me, that there was no use or purpose for my modesty anymore.

  I bit my bottom lip when his finger traced over my sex and inner thighs. When I saw his jaw clench, I looked down and froze when I saw the mess we’d made. Blood and seed coated the furs underneath me and my inner thighs, which were beginning to show the telltale signs of fresh bruises.

  Arokan murmured something in Dakkari, his tone sounding…angry. Then I jumped when he barked something out towards the entrance of the tent.

  He pulled the covers around me before the tent flaps opened to reveal two Dakkari males, once again bringing in the bathing tub and buckets of hot water.

  Arokan rose from the bed in his full nudity, rounding towards my side once the males left, leaving a steaming bath in their wake.

  I gasped when he gently lifted me into his arms and walked the short distance to the bathing tub, lowering us both inside.

  A sigh of unexpected pleasure escaped me when hot water wrapped me in a cocoon of soothing heat, loosening my sore muscles, relieving some of the ache between my thighs.

  “Better?” Arokan grunted, shifting me so that I was situated between his legs, until I felt his half-hard cock resting against my lower back.

  “Yes,” I whispered, surprised by how shy I felt with him that morning. Last night returned to me in vivid flashes, of searing pleasure and dominating thrusts. Of Arokan’s dark eyes, of his filthy, exciting words that only spurred me on, of his heat and his vibrating bump and the way his hands moved over my body with a familiarity that alarmed me.

  The tent smelled like…sex. And after last night, after experiencing the consuming, frightening need and desire I’d felt with him, I was worried that I would never be the same, that I would never look at Arokan the same now that I knew what he was capable of, now that I knew what he was capable of unleashing within me.

  Whoever that woman had been last night—that needful, lustful woman who had met his thrusts and wanted more—it wasn’t me. She was a stranger to me, someone I’d just met.

  All of my fears had come true. I’d liked it. And now I was changed because of it.

  Arokan gently stroked my body, gently washed between my thighs until I was cleaned of the evidence of our mating.

  “What happens now?” I whispered, feeling confused and strangely on the verge of tears because of how gentle he was being. I could handle it if he was rough or cold with me, but this Arokan…this male I couldn’t handle.

  Arokan didn’t answer me. He just continued to wash my body, threading his fingers through my hair. Finally, he undid the heavy necklace, massaging the marks it made against my neck, and tossed it to the floor of the tent.

  When the water began to cool, he carried me out and dried off my body. He went to the chests on the far wall of the tent, but then hesitated. Instead, he grabbed the pants and tunic I’d made and helped me dress in them.

  I was more thankful for that than he probably realized. When I was bathed and dressed in my familiar clothes, I felt like I could breathe again.

  “We will get new markings this day,” he told me, his voice rumbling out as he pulled on a fresh pair of pants that looked to be made of leather, molding to his thick, muscular thighs. The golden cuffs around his wrists gleamed as he tied the laces.

  “Markings?” I asked, eyeing him with trepidation.

  He approached me and my breath went a little shallow when he tilted my chin up to look at him. For a moment, I thought he would kiss me again, like he had last night.

  But he didn’t. I wasn’t sure whether I was disappointed or relieved by that, which disturbed me.

  He only looked at me, in a way that made me feel vulnerable and exposed. Like he could see all my darkest thoughts, all my regrets written on my very bones.

  Finally, his hands came to grip my wrists. “You will get yours here. You will receive the markings of my line. Of Rath Kitala. For you are of them now and all of our offspring will be of them too.”

  Realization hit me. My eyes darted to his chest, his arms, tracing the swirling, golden lines, a beautiful pattern over his flesh.

  Tattoos.

  I felt the pressure of his grip around my wrists and thought that my markings would reflect his golden cuffs. A symbol.

  The queen’s symbol.

  Swallowing the thick lump in my throat, I didn’t voice the doubts in my head. What did I know about the Dakkari? Hardly anything. What did I know about being their queen, about being the queen to a horde king?

  Nothing at all.

  I felt like an imposter already but receiving the markings would make me feel even more like one. Even more out of my element, further removed from my past life.

  Last night, Arokan revealed he thought me strong and brave and loyal. His words had touched something in me, soothed something in me.

  I wanted to be strong. But it was more than that because I realized I had to be. There was no room for cowardice. Not there. Not in a Dakkari camp.

  So, I nodded. I said, “I’m ready.”

  Arokan seemed pleased with that because he brushed his fingers across my cheekbone. Then he led me outside, into the fresh air, into the bright sunlight.

  That morning was quiet, as if the majority of the camp was sleeping off their fermented drink from the night before. There were two guards stationed at the tent, like usual, who inclined their heads when we emerged, but Arokan kept moving, kept guiding me deeper into the camp.

  Any Dakkari that we came upon inclined their heads, keeping their gazes averted, before scuttling off to do their duties for the day. In no time at all, Arokan stopped us in front of a nondescript tent, no different than any of the others around it.

  He called out in Dakkari and a long moment later, an older female emerged.

  “Vorakkar,” she greeted, though she seemed put off by the early hour. I watched their exchange with interest, noting that the female didn’t shy away from Arokan’s gaze, not like other members of the camp.

  They spoke quickly in Dakkari, rapid words that floated over my head. I wondered if there would come a time when I would understand the language in its entirety.

  Not likely, I thought.

  Finally, the older female looked at me. Lips pressed together, she looked over me, from head-to-toe, before inclining her head and said, “Morakkari. You have come for your markings.”

  I blinked when she spoke the universal tongue, when she looked me directl
y in the eyes, her eyes rimmed in green, not yellow. Her dark skin was wrinkled, just like the elders in my own village, but her hair was still black and shining, plaited and decorated with colorful beads.

  “It will be an honor, Morakkari,” she spoke again, but something in her tone made me question her words. She seemed sharp, cutting.

  I realized she wasn’t impressed with me, wasn’t impressed by Arokan’s choice of a queen. Mirari had mentioned those that didn’t agree with my being human among the horde. Was she one of them?

  Surprisingly, I found her disinterest in me…refreshing. It was honest. I could handle honest.

  “Thank you,” I replied because I didn’t know what else to say.

  “You may call me Hukan,” she replied.

  I studied her as she studied me. She’d given me her true name. Was it because I was Arokan’s queen now? I couldn’t help but remember what Mirari had told me. That sometimes Dakkari gave their given names to people they didn’t respect, as an insult.

  I didn’t give mine in return. Partly because I somehow knew Arokan wouldn’t approve and partly because I didn’t want to. Perhaps the Dakkari were onto something about only giving your name to those you trusted or cared for.

  And yet Arokan gave his name to me, I couldn’t help but think. I didn’t particularly think he trusted me or cared for me beyond simple desire and necessity for a queen.

  “Hukan,” I repeated.

  Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly before she looked at Arokan. He was watching her too, watching me, as if it was all a test. Did he know she disapproved of me?

  Probably, I thought. Something about Arokan told me that not much got passed him. He was always observing, always aware. It was probably why he made a good horde king, why he was respected.

  “Come inside, Vorakkar. Morakkari,” Hukan said, ushering us inside. Her tent was much smaller than our own, but was comfortable enough with a bed of furs and cushions. Incense burned within, filling the tent with an overpowering earthy fragrance, one that made my eyes tear up.

  She led us over to a low table in the center of the tent and I followed Arokan’s lead and sat down on the cushions next to him.