by Zoey Draven
“Any problems?” I asked him.
He shook his head. “Nik. She wandered around the encampment most of the day and then watched the pyrokis in the enclosure. The healer is in with her now changing her dressings.”
Inhaling a long breath, I said, “Kakkira vor,” and then dismissed him from his post for the night.
When I ducked inside the voliki, I heard a splash of water from the bathing tub and saw Nelle inside, obviously startled by my appearance. The healer was kneeling by her side, carefully washing the edges of her wounds, and my lips pressed together when I saw they were still reddened and raw, though they had healed considerably over the past week.
The sight of them brought a swift reaction of anger—though I did not know whom that anger was directed towards—and I jerked my head away, crossing to my cabinets to undress.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the kalles watching me. She was leaning forward in the bathing tub, aided by the healer, pressing her breasts to her knees. Humans were strange about nudity, I noted, whereas Dakkari were not.
“Up. Let me dress the wounds,” the kerisa said in the universal tongue, finished cleansing the thissie’s back. Her inky black hair was wet and washed, clinging to her damp shoulders. Her skin was unblemished and smooth, but so pale that it seemed almost translucent, making the wounds on her back seem all the more brutal and vicious.
A sensation rose up in me, powerful and consuming. I wanted to protect her. I wanted to shield her from beings like me.
Monster.
I didn’t understand it, but my whole body tensed with the need to protect her.
I watched the kalles’ eyes dart towards me at the sound of the kerisa’s order. I heard her thick swallow. Her eyes went to the furs on the bed and she gestured towards them wordlessly.
The kerisa stood and gathered one, brought it back, and held it open as Nelle stood, small rivers of water racing down her body. My jaw clenched when I caught sight of her rounded breasts, despite her best attempt to hide them, and focused on unstrapping my sword, ignoring the pulse of awareness that went down my spine.
Once the thissie dried her body, the healer began dressing her wounds, covering them in a light cloth. When she was done, Nelle immediately began to dress and only when she was fully covered did her shoulders relax.
Her nerves and wariness around me were insulting, but given what she’d told me the night before, how a male in her village had attempted to rape her—a thought that made violence and fury burn in my gut—I could understand it. I didn’t like it, but I could understand it. So I didn’t comment and after I dismissed the healer, once we were alone, I asked her instead, “Have you eaten yet?”
I noticed her tapping a rhythm on her wrist as she faced me, something she’d done last night as well.
“Yes,” she said, nodding. “Earlier.”
“Are you tired?” I asked next. She was nervous inside the voliki with me when we were alone, I noticed. At the hesitant shake of her head, I decided not to undress and instead brought her one of my coverings, a heavy pelt of kinnu fur that would keep her warm enough. When she was within reach, I placed the fur over her small shoulders and secured it. It looked like a cape on her body, falling to her knees.
I watched as she touched it hesitantly, stroking the softness of the fur, and at her bewildered look, I told her, “Do not worry, kalles, it is not a gift. Come with me.”
She didn’t ask where we were going as I led her from the voliki. Something told me she was just pleased to be outside. I wondered if my home felt like a cage to her. I wondered why she grew calm but focused when she was in open air, underneath the night sky, with the chill brushing her reddening cheeks.
The encampment was quiet, the hour late. I had come straight from a meeting with my council after discussing what else needed to be done before the first frost, which could come at any moment. We also discussed my impending journey to Dothik, when the moon was full at the request of the Dothikkar. I would go alone, which Vodan hadn’t liked, but I would not subject any warriors to that long journey during the cold season, not when they could be with their mates and their families instead. The cold season was a time for rest and reprieve. I would not deny them of that.
“Why is it that you train as hard as you do?”
Her question was soft-spoken, but curious, and I was reminded that I’d seen her at the training grounds earlier in the day.
“Why is it that you fled the moment I caught you spying?” I asked her in return. Her legs were shorter than my own and I slowed my pace when I noticed her struggling to keep up.
She frowned up at me and when I caught her eyes, I wanted to grin. She ignored my question completely, commenting, “Humans are surely no great threat to you or your horde. You must know that. Yet you are all so skillfully trained in combat, one would think you were preparing for war.”
“Are you complimenting me, thissie?”
Her frown deepened and I was relieved that she no longer seemed tensed and wary. Rather, she was back to her inquisitive self—the one who’d shamelessly peeked into the common bathing voliki as she paraded around my encampment—and frustrated I was not giving her the answers she sought.
“Especially during the cold season, I would think you would not need to train at all,” she continued. She waited. When I remained silent, she tried, “Do you train through the cold season?”
“For someone like you, I am wondering,” I said, the training grounds coming into view, “how much you need to know the answers to your questions. Is it painful not to know?”
“It is very irritating,” she replied immediately.
I couldn’t hide my small grin and she stared up at me, her eyes darting between my bared teeth and my eyes in surprise.
I sobered and asked, “How many questions do you have?”
“Too many.”
“What do you wish to know the most?”
She opened her mouth, the question right on her tongue, but then she hesitated. When we reached the barrier to the training grounds, I halted and turned to look down at her, giving her the full weight of my attention. She blinked up at me with those dark eyes, but asked me nothing.
“You are right, thissie,” I informed her when she chose to remain silent, frowning. “It is very irritating.”
“I will tell you if you answer the question I ask,” she told me.
“Bargaining now?” I asked, pressing my lips together, trying to hide my own interest. “You wish to bargain with a Vorakkar?”
“I do,” she said, though she seemed surprised by her own answer. In fascination, I watched her next expression flicker across her features: doubt. Then her resolve hardened and she seemed determined.
I thought I knew which question she might ask, but I couldn’t be certain. I could never be certain with this kalles and I didn’t know if that frustrated or intrigued me.
“Come,” I told her, stepping through the opening in the barrier to the training grounds, waiting as she followed.
“What are we doing here?” she asked finally, gazing around the darkened, empty space. A single barrel fire illuminated the large enclosure and cast most of the far end into shadow.
Walking over to the weapons rack built into the back barrier of the enclosure, I pulled a bow and a quiver of steel arrows out. They were rarely used, as most Dakkari warriors preferred swords and blades, but they were useful on longer hunts.
When I handed them to Nelle, she looked up at me with her wide eyes, her hand curling around the golden bow instinctively.
“What is this?” she asked softly. She knew exactly what they were, that wasn’t what she was asking.
“You told me you like to use your bow and arrow but not for the purpose of hunting,” I said, reminded of what she’d quietly murmured to me the night before, laying in my furs. “Why is that?”
“I…” she trailed off, licking her reddened lips, and stared down at the bow in her hand. “I like the focus of it. The steadiness of it. So
metimes it feels like breathing.” Then she frowned and jerked her head up at me, “That is unfair. Now you owe me an answer to one of my questions.”
“We have not made that bargain yet,” I reminded her. I plucked a few arrows from the quiver in her hands, leaving her with three. “Three chances to hit the farthest pole on the barrier over there.”
I gestured to where she could direct her remaining arrows, to a thin, narrow, wooden pole that stabilized a section of the fence in one of the darkened corners of the training enclosure.
She looked over at it and I watched as her shoulders straightened, as her mouth parted and her eyes hardened. A sizzle of awareness heated a path down to my belly and her obvious confidence made my cock twitch behind the pelt of fur, a reaction that took me off guard. My nostrils flared when she met my gaze and said simply, “I can do it. Three chances?”
“Lysi.”
“And since we are bargaining…what else do I get besides an answer to my question?”
Greedy kalles, I thought, my lips twitching in time with my hardening cock.
“If you hit the target,” I said slowly, putting emphasis on the first word, “I will give you your answer and you may use the bow whenever you wish, as long as my warriors are not using the training grounds.”
She wanted that. I saw it in her gaze.
“And?”
My brows rose. “What else do you want? But I warn you, thissie, the more that’s at risk, the more I will demand if you fail.”
“I want my own tent by tomorrow night,” she said, raising her chin. “No later.”
A memory rose from the night before and I took a step towards her. “Ah, lysi. I agree. If I do not build you your own voliki soon, then I am in danger of being suffocated in my own bed, considering how you clung to me last night.”
Her cheeks flamed through her glare.
“Very well,” I told her, inclining my head. “Anything else?”
She was tempted, I could see it. But the looming reminder that I had yet to state my demands if she failed made her shake her head. “What do you want, demon king?”
“I do not think you want to know.”
She pressed her lips together. “If you want sex, you can forget this bargain altogether.”
“Not sex,” I corrected. “But I do require an alukkiri.”
Her expression showed her suspicion. “An alukkiri?”
“In addition to whatever task I assign to you, you will also assist me with my oils every night.”
“Your…oils?” she asked slowly, her expression bewildered instead of appalled.
“During the cold season, our skin becomes very dry and can crack if not properly cared for,” I informed her, suppressing a grin. “As Vorakkar, I have the luxury of selecting an alukkiri to assist me with this. That will be you if you fail.”
“You cannot be serious,” she said slowly.
“It is entirely up to you,” I told her. “You wished to bargain. This is my demand if you are unsuccessful.”
“For how long?” she asked, frowning.
Amusement rose in my chest and I informed her, “Any female would jump at the chance to be my alukkiri, thissie. I am starting to feel insulted.”
“For how long?” she repeated, her question clipped.
“Two weeks,” I told her. “Or I suppose I can just choose to make it your task in my horde for the entire season.”
Her lips pressed together. “One week. And my dagger will be very close by, demon king.”
I couldn’t hide my grin then.
“We are in agreement,” I told her. Her eyes narrowed on me and I jerked my chin in the direction of the pole. “You may begin whenever you wish.”
Her shoulders set and she turned. Setting the quiver on the ground next to her, she plucked out a single arrow and I saw the first instance of doubt on her features.
“What is it?”
“It’s heavy,” she murmured, almost to herself. She judged the distance again, looking towards the single pole in the darkened corner.
“It is not made of wood and feathers.” Like her old bow had been.
She took in a small breath and I watched as she expertly nocked the arrow despite her observation. Her movements were smooth and familiar, as if she’d done it hundreds of times before. Which, perhaps, she had.
The bow was much too large for her. It was made for a Dakkari warrior, not a vekkiri kalles. But she didn’t hesitate again and I admired that.
Rapt, I watched her pull back the arrow, the cord of the bow pressing into the side of her cheek as she steadied it. Though her arm trembled slightly from the weight, from the tension of the cord, I saw her inhale a slow, measured breath, her eyes focused, her shoulders relaxed.
I couldn’t tear my eyes from her as she exhaled on the release, not even turning to see where the arrow landed.
By her expression, I knew she’d missed, and when I finally managed to look, I saw it had skidded low on the ground, a short distance from the pole.
She had her second arrow nocked before I turned back towards her. Adjusting her stance, adjusting her grip, adjusting the angle of the bow, she inhaled…and then released.
A dull thud sounded but when I turned, I saw she’d hit the bottom of the fence, not the pole.
“One left,” I murmured, my feet taking me a step closer to her. When her gaze flicked up at me, I saw her determination, but I didn’t see a hint of worry.
It should disturb me how much I was drawn to her. Vodan’s warning filtered through my mind but I shook it away as she nocked her last arrow.
Heart thudding a deep, even rhythm in my chest, I noticed she took more time assessing the distance.
However, she was growing fatigued from the strain. The tension from the bowstring was more than likely irritating the wounds on her back, though she didn’t show it. And though she’d been steadily eating and regaining her strength, she’d been bedridden with fever just a couple days ago.
A part of me thought I shouldn’t have brought her out here. But something told me she wanted to be there, regardless of the outcome, that she would spend the entire night in the training grounds if she could.
She inhaled and then exhaled. The arrow shot from the bow with a whistling hiss.
Thud.
When I turned to assess her final shot, my shoulders straightened.
“A deal’s a deal,” she murmured. Her eyes met mine, the bow hanging from her grip, her chin tilted up.
My cock was hard and pulsing underneath my fur coverings. Her hair was still wet from her bath and the bowstring had cut a vertical line across her cheek, stung from the cold. Her dark eyes gleamed, reflecting the light from the single barrel fire. I saw pride there, not the expected defeat.
Did it make me a monster to want her so much? To want her warming my furs? To want her on my cock, on my lips, to want her wherever and whenever I could have her?
“When do I have to start?” she asked quietly, the only question she would have answered that night.
Swallowing, I took the bow from her grip, noticing that a small shiver raced through her body despite my heavy pelt across her shoulders. An animalistic, primal part of me liked that my scent was on her now. A claim. My claim.
My voice was as dark as my need as I rasped, “Once the first frost comes, rei alukkiri.”
Chapter Twelve
Three nights later, the winds came, aggressive and punishing, scouring their way across the planet’s surface like crawling, seeking fingers.
A small part of me was relieved that my own tent wasn’t yet finished. While I’d lived through many cold seasons in my village—and many of those alone—being out on the plains of Dakkar was a different experience altogether. Though the encampment had the mountain at its back, protecting us from the south, it made the winds from the north—and east and west—seem even more violent, whistling around the ancient stone behind us so that a constant hiss reverberated around the camp.
It set my teeth on ed
ge and made me tap on my wrist, though that tapping had extended down to my toes as well.
The horde king noticed my nerves that night and reassured me with, “It will quiet in the morning, thissie.”
Even the jarring sound of the wind wouldn’t stop me from eating my meal. Though the normally delicious fare tasted like ash in my mouth, I still chewed and swallowed mechanically. I’d already gained much-needed weight in the past week. I could feel it in my hips, in my thighs. No longer did my bones protrude almost obscenely from my pale skin.
“The winds last year went on for three days before the frost came,” I told him softly.
“Drukkar was punishing last year,” he said. “He was angry because of what happened in the east.”
He’d already finished eating, not seeming at all concerned about the winds. However, he was still sitting with me at the low table, his back to one of the poles that stabilized one side of the tent’s domed ceiling, one leg bent, the other stretching out towards me. In his lap was his sword, which he was sharpening and cleaning with efficient precision after his training session earlier that afternoon.
We’d done this every night for the last three nights. We took our meal together and he waited for me to finish, either looking after his seemingly endless supply of weapons or simply watching me, which always made me squirm. It was as if he knew my nerves were already on edge, so he directed his intense attention elsewhere that night.
After I finished eating, he would take his bath, which was already set up in the far corner of the tent. He would undress in front of me without a care and I would try not to look at his golden, sculpted flesh as he sank into the bathing tub. I would try not to hear his pleasured groan and I would try to ignore the strange sensation deep in my belly whenever I heard it.
After he was done, he would climb out, dry off, snuff out the flames, and tell me to come to bed, since he knew I would not bathe with him in the tent. In fact, I specifically bathed in the mornings, once I was certain he was gone for the day.
Then we would sleep. I would sleep fully dressed and he would sleep fully naked. And always—always—I would wake sometime in the night to find myself pressed close to him.