Captive Of The Horde King

by Zoey Draven

  He nodded.

  That set, I managed to block two of his six strikes.

  “Enough,” he said, coming to me once it was done. “We will start again tomorrow.”

  I nodded, everything aching. I would pay for this in the morning.

  His voice softened as he bent his head low. “You did well, kalles.”

  Looking up at him, I gave him a small, tired smile. “You’re just saying that so I don’t suffocate you in your sleep.”

  He huffed out an amused breath, shaking his head. “Come. You need sleep.”

  My body might be tired, but my mind felt energized. Still, I didn’t argue as he led us back to our tent, our voliki, as the Dakkari called it.

  Our tent, I mused. When had it become our tent to me and not his?

  Once inside, a hot, fresh bathing tub and a meal was waiting for us, just like the night before. Arokan brought the food tray close to the tub and then promptly stripped my sweaty clothes off and then his own.

  And just like the night before, when he led me into the hot water that felt sublime against my aching muscles, when I settled between his strong thighs and let him wash me, I felt his thick cock hard and aroused, pressing into my spine. And just like the night before…he did nothing about it.

  It confused me. It frustrated me. Because I was beginning to suspect that I liked sex with him, though it had been rough and consuming and…magnificent.

  We hadn’t had sex since before the Ghertun scout had been executed. Considering that when Arokan had first brought me to the camp and he’d hardly been able to keep his hands off me those first few days…I was beginning to wonder if he was already losing interest in me.

  Even as I wondered that, I kept still as he washed me.

  “Turn,” he ordered gruffly.

  My breath hitched and I hesitantly did as he said, wondering if he would initiate something, my belly fluttering in anticipation.

  His eyes met mine as I straddled his thighs in the bath, the water sloshing around.

  A brief look down revealed his hardened cock, the engorged head bobbing out of the water, against his abdomen. I saw the glimmer of the golden tattoos around it, one at the base, one just below the head.

  “Wash me,” he murmured, handing the cloth he’d been using on me, still lathered with soap.

  I took it, biting my lip, and pushed the damp ends of my hair over my shoulder.

  Arokan’s eyes dragged down to my jutting nipples, his eyelids going heavy. As I leaned forward and ran the washcloth over his shoulders, he ducked his head and caught one nipple in his mouth. I sucked in a surprised breath, my hand pausing as pleasure tingled down my spine, as he laved his hot tongue over it, flicking the hardened bud back-and-forth.

  I steadied myself on his broad shoulders, my sex spasming and clenching as arousal arrowed down my body.

  After a moment’s hesitation, I resumed washing him, scrubbing his skin perhaps a little more roughly, especially when he switched nipples.

  And he continued on like that. I bit my lip to keep from moaning as he teased me, as he suckled me to madness, all while I continued to wash him, trying to act like what he was doing wasn’t making me lose my goddamn mind.

  So, I washed wherever I could reach—his back, his arms, his chest, his abdomen—until I couldn’t avoid his cock any longer.

  He grunted when I ran the cloth over his length, but I only made a few, short passes, before I moved onto his thighs.

  Arokan made another sound but then he pulled back from my nipples and leaned against the back of the tub. His cock was still jutting from the water, impossible not to see, but his expression was hardened, his mouth set in a straight line, his jaw clenched.

  Again, frustration rose as I washed his thighs. He’d stopped after teasing me again. Just like last night. My nipples felt tender, sensitive. My sex ached as much as my muscles did from the training session.

  He watched me carefully—I could feel those eyes on me—before he reached over to the food tray and popped a chunk of braised meat into his mouth.

  Disbelief ran through me, though I hid it well. He’d stopped and now he was eating. Was he truly not going to initiate anything that night?

  I blew out a shaky breath and tried to distract myself with the task on hand. I finished quickly and by the time I was done, my mind felt a little less foggy. Once I was done washing him, once I draped the washing cloth over the lip of the bathing tub, he offered a piece of braised meat to me.

  Without hesitation, I took it. Already, I was used to the taste, the energy that the fresh food gave me. I’d been with Arokan, with the horde, for less than two weeks, but already, I could feel my body changing. I was gaining much-needed weight. My hips were softening, my rib bones weren’t as prominent as they were before. I didn’t feel completed depleted of energy any longer. I could actually feel something that resembled strength building in me.

  I couldn’t even remember the taste of the Uranian Federation rations. That made me feel guilty, as it probably always would. Though I knew that Arokan had fresh bveri meat delivered to my village, it would only be a matter of time before it ran out.

  Arokan reached out, the water trickling from his elbow, and he pressed his thumb between the line that had formed between my brows from my thoughts.

  “What worries you?” he murmured, his voice deep and quiet and calm, as if a moment before, he hadn’t been kissing my nipples.

  I hesitated in telling him, which he noticed. But after a moment, I said, “I was just thinking about my village.”

  He exhaled a sharp breath, his hand falling away. He turned his head and plucked more food from the tray, feeding some to me and then eating some himself.

  “Do I treat you well?” he asked after an awkward silence.

  The question made me blink in surprise. “Yes, Arokan,” I said softly and it was true. “You do.”

  He’d never mistreated me. He’d treated me better and with more respect than I could have ever imagined. It had taken me off guard at first, especially considering I’d grown up hearing how merciless and ruthless the Dakkari were.

  But I was learning that not all stories and rumors were true. Sometimes, the truth was quite the opposite.

  “But you will always remain loyal to your village,” he said next, as if it were obvious. “Not to the horde. Not to me.”

  Warning bells went off in my head at his tone. He sounded…disappointed.

  “That’s not fair, Arokan,” I whispered.

  His eyes studied me. “Tell me how.”

  “I know, deep in my heart, that I will probably never see my village again. My brother,” I said. His lips pressed together. “I made you a promise. One I will keep. In a way, my loyalty is to you.”

  “And if I released you from your promise?” he questioned quietly next. My brow furrowed, my lips parting. “What would you do? Would you stay or would you leave?”

  My mind raced. What was he doing?

  “I…” I trailed off. I thought about it. If Arokan allowed me to return to my brother, would I go? “I don’t know,” I whispered, truthful.

  His jaw ticked and he looked away.

  My chest ached at his expression and I reached out before I knew what I was doing, pressing my palm against his cheek. I’d never touched his face before, but it was surprisingly soft, save for the small battle scars that marred it every so often.

  He met my eyes as I said softly, “My village is a place. Though I was born in that village, though I was raised there, it is not my home. My family is my home, my brother is my home. Despite everything he’s done, I still love him. Despite everything I’ve given up for him, I still love him. You cannot ask me to choose. Because I cannot and I will not.”

  Arokan looked at me, his eyes darting back and forth between mine. He reached up to touch my hand and my lips parted, remembering what Mirari said, that perhaps a Vorakkar needed softness, needed warmth most of all. My heart twinged in my chest, surprising affection enveloping me
.

  “You are right, rei Morakkari,” he murmured, surprising me. My Queen. “I should not have asked.”

  My heart beat in my chest as I stared into his eyes.

  Then he asked, “You were born on Dakkar?”

  I blinked. “Yes. Does that surprise you?”

  “It does,” he admitted. “It seems like not long ago the old king accepted the settlements.”

  “Accepted?” I questioned, a small, sardonic smile playing over my lips.

  He inhaled a breath. “Forced through the Uranian Federation’s bribery,” he amended.

  I relaxed, shaking my head. “That sounds more like it. I always wondered, considering our presence was never…accepted.”

  “Dakkari are set in tradition,” he explained after a brief moment of silence between us. “Those in the capital are most opposed. They do not see what the hordes see. The Dothikkar does not even see.”

  “And what is that?”

  “Your struggle,” he answered.

  My brow furrowed.

  “Admittedly,” he continued, “even I did not know the length of it until you told me how low your food supply was. We have always assumed that the Uranian Federation treated their refugees well, that they ensured they had enough rations and water and supplies.”

  “In the beginning,” I said softly, “they did. When I was young, right around when my brother was born, there was plenty of food. But it’s dwindled over the years. And we were not allowed to hunt or to gather on our own food to fill that loss.”

  “Those are the Dothhikar’s orders,” he told me, his expression grim. “We follow them because it is his will.”

  I shook my head. “You punish those that try to feed their families,” I said softly. “How is that right? Your land is bountiful. Your game roams free and is plentiful. What is the harm?”

  Arokan’s jaw ticked. “Humans and other settlements have long proven that they cannot follow our traditions. They destroy and burn our land—Kakkari. This is unacceptable.”

  “Only because they need to be taught,” I argued gently. “We have been here for decades now. I was born here but even I know little of the land, how to plant in your soil successfully, how to hunt your game so as not to diminish the population. These things only require knowledge and knowledge is free.”

  “It is never free,” he corrected softly.

  “You said your pujerak told my village how to dry bveri meat when you sent him there,” I said. “That is knowledge. And because of it, it will keep my village fed for far longer than any of our rations have.”

  “That came at a price,” he said. “You paid it. It was an exchange.”

  “My only payment was agreeing to eat. That was hardly a price,” I said.

  “Nevertheless, it wasn’t free. Eating gives you strength. That strength is useful to the horde…to me.”

  My face heated at his implication.

  “What if the villages make payment to you in some way?” I asked next. “In exchange for the rights to hunt, to grow crops.”

  “That is not my decision. That is the Dothikkar’s decision alone,” he said, his tone warning me that I would get no further that night. But I would keep trying. I owed it to my village, to my race, to keep trying.

  I changed the subject, perhaps not very tactfully, but I found I enjoyed speaking with him, even if we argued.

  “Were you born in the capital?” I questioned. “Or within a horde?”

  “In Dothik,” he answered.

  “Is that why you know the universal tongue so well?” I asked next, remembering that Mirari said that most in Dothik were taught the common language.

  “Lysi,” he answered. “My father believed that it would be useful, though I detested learning it. He was right. It is quite useful to me now.”

  I let out a small laugh. “You might like me better if you didn’t know what I was saying.”

  His grin was small but it sent a thrill through me. “I do not know. I enjoy your sharp tongue.”

  “Do you miss Dothik?” I asked, trying to distract myself from the warmth building in my belly at his words.

  “Nik,” he said immediately, which surprised me. Then again, I knew very little of the city. “It is a grand place. There are more luxuries and comforts than here in the wild lands, but I would never give up my horde for all of them. The spirit of the Dakkari is to roam, to follow the land wherever it leads us. That is freedom. It is what calls to me, to us all. Those in Dothik…they have forgotten that. The Dothikkar has forgotten that.”

  Arokan of Rath Kitala…I could never imagine him any place else than in the wild lands, on the back of his pyroki, with a sword at his side, fighting for the safety of his horde.

  Hukan had been right once again. Arokan had been born for this. He had been born to be a Vorakkar.

  Panic infused my veins right then. I was beginning to suspect that my heart was being claimed, a little bit at a time, by the horde king whose naked lap I was straddling in that bathing tub.

  He was unlike anything I’d ever imagined. And that scared me.

  “Like you said,” he murmured, brushing his fingers against my hair, “Dothik is a place. My horde is my home.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “Oh, Missiki,” Mirari murmured, squirming in discomfort. “I do not…I do not know if I can…”

  My cheeks burned and I kept my voice quiet as I asked her advice, so even the guards outside our tent wouldn’t hear. “Please. He hasn’t…he hasn’t, erm, approached me in some time. I don’t know what to do.”

  It had been four days since that night in the bathing tub when he’d told me about Dothik. Four days and three nights and Arokan still hadn’t touched me. Of course, he touched me during our baths before bed. He stroked my body and touched me in places that made me bite my lip and try to hold back a moan. But anything more, even when we lay in bed at night, was nonexistent.

  And I was slowly losing my mind because of it.

  My body felt like a stranger’s once again. I was almost constantly aroused because of his teasings, my body needing release. My skin felt sensitive to the touch. I’d woken up that morning in an empty bed with my hand between my legs and I’d been so tempted to release some tension myself. But Mirari and Lavi had entered shortly after and I’d sighed in frustration and let them dress me for the day instead.

  But now, as Lavi finished braiding my hair, I wanted to know what Mirari thought.

  “Is it…is this strange?” I asked, worried about her reply. My eyes went over to the chests that lined the tent wall and my belly burned. It wasn’t the first time I wondered if Arokan was releasing his own tension elsewhere. And that thought cut deep. It made jealousy swarm my veins.

  The only thing that didn’t make me completely lose it over that was that I didn’t know when he’d have the time to seek out another female. He went about his duties during the day with his pujerak and his advisors and at dusk, he collected me from the enclosure and we trained together until long after nightfall. After which, we retired to our tent.

  Mirari lowered her voice and said, “It is, Missiki. I am sorry to say. Dakkari males are very…very needful.”

  My stomach dropped, my eyes closing. I knew it. I knew something was wrong.

  “It all makes sense now,” she said softly.

  “What do you mean?”

  “It is rumored that as of late the Vorakkar has been especially short with his warriors. Frustrated. Rarely does he show his temper, but I am told it’s been rather apparent lately.”

  My brows rose, surprised. With me, Arokan didn’t seem any different, though there had been something in his gaze that confused me. A tightness.

  But everything had been normal between us. We spent a good deal of time together, especially at night, so wouldn’t I notice if something was wrong?

  “I don’t know what to do,” I confessed, looking into her eyes. Mirari and Lavi—though she only spoke a handful of words in the universal tongue now—h
ad become my friends. I trusted them. And I trusted Mirari to tell me the truth. I knew she would, had never held back before, despite her being my piki.

  “Does he ever make his interest clear?” she asked softly, though she still seemed a little uncomfortable with the subject.

  I furrowed my brow. “Sometimes I think so. He, um, touches me at night. I always think he will initiate something, but he always pulls away shortly afterwards.”

  Mirari blinked. “Why do you not initiate then?”

  “What?”

  Mirari shook her head. “Missiki, do you ever touch him too? Do you seem receptive to him? What do you do when he makes his interest clear?”

  “I…” I trailed off. I looked down at my lap, at the golden marks across my wrists. They were fully healed now and beautiful. “I just…wait.”

  Mirari sucked in a sharp inhale. “Missiki…”

  “Is that bad?” I asked, looking up at her. “It’s bad, isn’t it? Ugh, I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve never had to think about this before.”

  “Never?” she asked skeptically.

  My cheeks flamed again. “No. I was inexperienced before the Vorakkar.”

  “Oh, I see,” Mirari said gently. “In that case, Missiki, you need to take initiative. Males need to know that you desire them as much as they desire you. If you do nothing when he touches you, he must think that you do not want his advances.”

  “But…” I whispered, dread pooling in my stomach. “But I do.”

  “Then it is not a problem,” Mirari said, smiling, relaxing at my admission. “Just communicate with your body that you wish for him to continue.”

  “I don’t know how,” I confessed again.

  The other times we’d had sex, had I touched him, been receptive to him?

  The night he’d come to me after I refused to eat, I’d been still and unresponsive. He’d touched and kissed my body but it was only after my stomach growled did he stop. Or had it also been because I was simply lying there, scared and nervous? I remembered he’d kept looking up at me. Had that been to gauge whether I was enjoying it? Had he stopped because he thought I wasn’t, not only because I was hungry?