by Zoey Draven
Panic and pain lit my veins. Despite the fogginess in my head, I was lucid enough to realize I was half-naked in the presence of Dakkari males, being held down by their brutal horde king. And I’d heard the rumors of the Dakkari. Barbaric, dark things that were whispered about from village to village.
I thrashed against his hold harder and felt a rush of warmth on my back, followed by a sharp pain.
Then came a female voice, urgent and firm. My brows drew together just as the demon king said, “Cease. You are reopening the wounds.”
Not caring about the burning sensation from my back, I craned my head so I could look behind me. A female was there, kneeling next to my hips. In her hand was a needle and thread. Another male—the one that had first spoken to me in my village—stood a few feet away, his arms crossed over his chest. Other than that, no one else was there. No trace of the horde warriors that had flooded into my village.
“What...what are you doing to me?” I rasped, my throat and mouth dry. The female glanced at me. A Dakkari female. I’d never seen one before.
But she didn’t reply. Her gaze dismissed me when she bent her head and lowered her needle to my back.
“She is suturing your wounds closed, kalles,” the demon king said, his voice rough and dark. I hated his voice. It made fear saturate my belly and rise up in my chest.
“Why?” I asked, hissing when I felt the coolness of her needle pierce my hot flesh.
He didn’t answer. I saw his jaw set, I felt his hold tighten.
Then I closed my eyes. It was easier.
I drifted back into sleep again.
Later, it was quiet, except for the crackling of a fire.
My eyelids felt heavy and my back felt numb. When the fire popped, my breath hitched, my gaze tracking over to it. The fire was encased in a raised metal disc and I watched sparks fling out from its center.
It was warm and it was so quiet. My skin felt damp, but my mind floated in a painless haze.
A dream?
My cheek was pressed into soft, tickling furs and I worried about Blue’s feathers because I no longer wore my tunic.
A hissing sound met my ears and I looked up slightly, across what looked like the inside of a domed tent. It was richly and warmly furnished. Piles of clean and plush furs, thick red rugs with golden swirling accents, heavy chests lining one area of the tent, a low table with cushions on the opposite side. A yellow glow of oil lamps and candles made the inside gleam, yet cast other places in deep shadows.
It was in one of those shadows that I saw him.
He was sitting with his back to the wall of the tent, his golden sword in his lap. I watched as he ran what looked like a black stone across the blade, creating that sharp hissing sound, before flipping the sword to run it across the other side.
As if he sensed me awakening, his gaze darted to mine. The hissing sound stopped.
His grey eyes looked frightening in the shadows, like a creature of nightmares. He was bare-chested and the markings across his chest and shoulders seemed to glow bright yellow in the darkness.
I swallowed. But just like with the men in my village, I did not want to show him my fear.
“Where am I?” I whispered, because I didn’t trust my voice not to shake.
“In my horde,” was what he replied.
He wasn’t that far from me. In fact, I could see that he’d recently bathed, his blond hair damp, his skin scrubbed clean.
Frowning, my eyes flitted, looking for a bathing tub, and I saw one near the entrance of the tent, tendrils of steam still curling from the surface.
I didn’t remember the last time I’d bathed.
My gaze flickered back to him when I sensed him set his sword aside.
“What did you do to me?” I asked, feeling something wrapped tightly around my back. Reaching around, I felt the soft cloth of bandages, wet with something sticky and thick.
“The healer cleaned and dressed your wounds.”
“Why?”
His gaze narrowed. “To save you.”
“You should have left me,” I whispered, licking my dry lips.
“You would have died,” he told me, his jaw ticking. With irritation? With regret? With impatience? I didn’t know. I couldn’t read him and usually I was very good at reading people.
“Wasn’t that the point?” I couldn’t help but ask, remembering the way I felt before I knelt on the ground of my village, thinking it was an execution.
“Nik,” he bit out. “I told you before. I was never going to kill you, kalles.”
I closed my eyes. I didn’t know how I felt about that knowledge, but I heard the truth in his voice. If he wanted me dead, I would be. But why had he taken me from my village? Why did he bring me here?
I didn’t think I wanted to know. One possibility flitted across my mind, but it was ridiculous. I’d heard of Dakkari males taking human females from villages before. But I was not the taking kind. I was small and pale and strange-looking. If anyone from our village was the taking kind, it would have been Viv. She was beautiful.
“What does kalles mean, demon king?” I whispered, my eyes popping open when I heard the fire spark again. The fire was beautiful too. A swirl of red and orange and gold and all the shades in between.
I almost smiled because it was so beautiful…and I liked beautiful things. Like a full moon, all round and silvery, or the shimmering pink fog that sometimes settled over the land on a cold morning.
But my eyes would not remain away from him for long. He was beautiful too.
“Kalles means female in my language,” he told me after a brief pause.
I thought kalles was a pretty word, but I would certainly never tell him that.
His jaw ticked and again I couldn’t read him. “Demon king?” he rasped.
It took me a moment to realize I had even called him ‘demon king.’
“You think me a demon?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said, my fingers stroking the furs underneath me. I didn’t know what beast they came from, but it was the softest thing I’d ever felt. “Jana told me about demons. She told me when you look too closely, they steal your soul.”
He went still. He even seemed to stop breathing. Those grey eyes burned into me.
“And I felt you taking it,” I whispered, my breath quickening in fear, remembering that sensation. “I felt it.”
So why was I still staring into his eyes?
Swallowing, my gaze dropped to his chest and I traced one edge of a tattoo until I ended my perusal at his side, where I saw a deep scar. A scar so deep it puckered his skin inwards.
I was a curious being—sometimes to a fault—but even I knew not to ask how he’d received such a scar.
“So, Kakkari has shown you as well,” he said softly, that brutal voice cutting into me, making my chest tighten. He said it with an almost speculative tone.
“Shown me what?” I asked, my gaze drifting over to the bath again, wanting it. When I moved slightly, my back tugged and that icy numbness lifted for a moment, my lungs squeezing from the throbbing pain.
A noise whistled from his slitted nostrils. He didn’t answer my question.
Instead, he said, “I am no demon, thissie. Because if I am one, then you are one too.”
I frowned, surprised by the way his words dragged something fierce and angry from me.
“I want to leave,” I said, glaring at him across the domed tent. “You should not have taken me from my village.”
“You will not leave, kalles,” he said, his tone harsh but firm. I tensed when he rose from his seated position. “Not until I say you can.”
My breath whooshed from my lungs in disbelief, in confusion.
He turned, heading towards the entrance of the tent. I was about to argue, about to push up from the furs. Then the words died in my throat.
My lips parted when I saw his bared back.
He’d been whipped too. Only, instead of three lashes, it looked like he’d received a hundred.<
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“Rest,” he growled out, a sudden anger in his voice. “I will return with the healer later.”
Then he left. And I was left with the quiet and the crackling fire and the shadows.
Chapter Five
“Her fever grows, Vorakkar,” the healer said. “She will burn up before the dawn.”
I stared down at the wreckage of her flesh. The human female was slick with sweat and she trembled every so often in sleep. Despite the healer’s attempts, infection had already taken root. It had been three days since I’d brought the kalles to my camp. She had not woken up on the second day.
“What will you do?” I growled. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the healer still at my tone.
“I recommend an ice bath,” she replied, her voice hesitant. “Have your warriors bring in the water from the river. They will need to break the ice to retrieve it.”
“Very well,” I said, rising.
“Vorakkar,” the healer called out softly. I turned back to her, but her gaze remained averted. “I—I have never treated a vekkiri before. They are different from us, weaker. I do not wish for you to be angry with me if I cannot heal her. I—I cannot go back to Dothik.”
My brows drew together. She thought her place in the horde balanced on the kalles’ life. Had I given her that impression?
“Your home is always here, kerisa,” I told her, trying to soften my tone. “But do not let her die.”
Vodan found me when I exited my tent. His eyes strayed to the entrance but I caught the flash of disapproval in his gaze.
Beyond him, I saw a small group of horde warriors standing around a barrel fire, laughing and eating.
“Darukkar,” I called out. The group immediately turned and straightened when they saw me standing there.
While I relayed my orders to the horde warriors and watched as they filed out of the camp, heading west towards the river, I sensed my pujerak close in.
“What is it?” I asked him, breathing in the crisp air through my nostrils and looking out over my horde.
“There are already whisperings around the camp,” he told me. “You will need to address her presence soon. Many wonder why a vekkiri kalles stays in your voliki.”
“Tell them what you must,” I said.
“That she is your war prize? That she is your whore?”
I huffed out an impatient breath, my eyes seeking the moon hanging above our camp. It was only a crescent moon, but once it was full, whether the cold season descended or not, I had to be in Dothik.
“Should I tell them everything but the truth?”
“And what is it?” I rasped, locking my gaze with his. “Tell me, pujerak, what you believe the truth is.”
He said nothing, but I could see the knowledge of it in his eyes.
I shook my head, my eyes returning to the moon. Then, I said, “You are not my blood brother, Vodan, but you are my family. You always have been, since we were young.”
Vodan sighed. I remembered him right then as when I’d first seen him. Dirty and small and hungry. Just like I’d been.
“We built something in Dothik. Together. We built this horde because I could not have done it without you,” I said. “Now, I need that support. I need you to stop questioning me. Because though you are my brother, I am still your Vorakkar and I need you to remember that.”
He held my gaze but I saw when my request permeated.
“I will not pretend to know what it is like, going through the Trials of the Dothikkar,” my pujerak said after a brief pause. “I will not pretend to know what it takes, mentally and physically, to become a Vorakkar.”
“Maybe it takes a monster,” I said, meeting his eyes. “Maybe that is the only way.”
Vodan huffed out a sharp exhale, dismissing my words. “You believe you are a monster? I disagree. I believe that you have to be strong in order to best lead this horde. You cannot have mercy because mercy can kill. You cannot be swayed.” His eyes went to tent. “And this female? She sways you. She will.”
“The horde always come first. You know this,” I told him, furrowing my brow. “One female will never change that.”
Vodan sighed. He looked out over the horde encampment at the gentle golden glow from the drum fires and oil lamps.
“I will tell them that she is yours,” Vodan said simply, quietly.
Desires I’d long thought dead reawakened at his words, but I pushed them from my mind as best as I could.
Discipline. It was required of us all, I reminded myself. The Dothikkar had ensured that in his selection of his Vorakkars.
“Return to your wife, Vodan,” I rasped, turning from him, my voice husky from my thoughts. “Enjoy her warmth and think no more of this tonight.”
“Then return to yours, Vorakkar,” my pujerak said, tilting his head towards my voliki. His eyes were watchful and knowing as he added, “Because that is what she will become, is it not?”
When the horde warriors returned with the river water, I returned to my voliki, following them inside, watching as they filled the bathing tub.
After I dismissed them, the healer said, “Can you lift her in, Vorakkar? Her back cannot get wet or the sutures will fail. Keep her bent forward.”
The healer stripped the kalles of her pants, leaving her naked on my furs. I froze for a moment, looking at her backside, her legs, the jutting bones of her hips. I swallowed. She was much too thin. I hadn’t realized how much until just then.
And she was much too light, I thought, when I picked her up, careful of her back. She was shivering in my arms.
When I placed her in the icy water, she didn’t even wake and I maneuvered her body as the healer said, kneeling by the side of the bathing tub to keep her steady and in place.
Her back was red and inflamed from my lashes, little veins spearing out from the wounds.
“How long?” I asked the healer, not lifting my gaze from the kalles’ face.
“Not long, but we will need to do this multiple times through the night.”
When her trembling vibrated the water around her, I took her out. A short while later, I put her back in, once we brought in more ice to cool the water.
It was a long night, but once morning broke, the exhausted healer told me that her fever was under control, that the worst of it was over.
“I will return,” the healer said, packing up her serums and vials, “in the evening. Or if she wakes before then, you can send for me, Vorakkar.”
“Kakkira vor, kerisa,” I said.
My gratitude made color rise in her cheeks, but I was already looking back down at the kalles and I didn’t notice when the healer slipped from the tent.
Lowering myself onto the furs next to her, I stretched out in my bed, knowing I needed to sleep, though dawn was just breaking. I hadn’t slept for three days and exhaustion was beginning to pull at the edges of my mind.
Now that I knew the kalles would make it through another day, I let myself relax, if only slightly.
When I turned my head to look at her, I saw her closed eyelids twitch.
Her eyes opened a fraction and connected with mine. She didn’t react when she saw me close to her, as I guessed she might. She was a peculiar thing, unpredictable in nature, and that frustrated me.
Perhaps she didn’t realize she was awake, or perhaps she was still delirious from the fever. She looked at me, deep, and whispered, “Hello, demon.”
Her eyes closed before I could react.
“Sleep, thissie,” I said back after a quiet moment.
Then I slept too.
Chapter Six
I woke to an empty, cold tent. For a moment, I couldn’t place where I was or why. But slowly, awareness drifted back to me and with it came wariness.
“Hello?” I called out softly, my cheek pressed to the furs of the bed, my back exposed to the open, cool air. It was then I realized I was naked.
I felt sick but starving, my throat parched and dry. When I tried to push myself from the bed, my arms
trembled and my heart thundered from the small exertion, making me feel dizzy and out of breath.
But at least I was sitting up. Shivering, I winced when the wounds on my back pulled ever so slightly, though I noticed the pain was significantly less than what it’d been before.
Blue light filtered into the tent and I gasped when I saw someone enter through the flaps. Scrambling, I took one of the furs from the bed and held it to my chest to cover my nakedness.
I relaxed slightly when I realized it was the Dakkari female I’d seen before. Though the memory of her was hazy, I still remembered her with her needle.
“You are awake,” she murmured. Was that relief I heard in her voice?
“You…you speak my language too?” I asked.
“Lysi,” she said, inclining her head. “I was raised in Dothik.”
She said it as though it would clear up any confusion, but I still frowned.
“How do you feel?” she asked, coming towards me. I tightened my grip on the furs and shuffled back a little, eyeing the small case she carried at her side. She stopped when she saw the movement and said, “I have been working day and night to see you well, vekkiri. I will not waste all my hard work by harming you now.”
Hearing the tired truth in her tone, I felt my shoulders relax and when she motioned for me to scoot forward, I did. She turned me so that she could inspect my bared back.
“Good,” she said finally, quietly, almost to herself. “The Vorakkar will be pleased.”
I frowned at the mention of him, remembering him in flashes, in pieces.
“What happened?” I asked, tugging the furs tighter to my chest when another cold draft floated around my body. “How long have I been asleep?”
“Your wounds became infected. Your body was burning with it, but we managed to bring the fever down,” she said, appearing in my line of vision again. She went to a small table at the edge of my vision and picked up a metal goblet before bringing it to me. “Drink. I tried to keep you hydrated but you were not always cooperative.”
I didn’t remember that, but I took the heavy goblet from her hand eagerly and drained it quickly.