Madness of the Horde by Zoey Draven

 

Chapter One

That darkened alleyway of Dothik felt like a reprieve.

Though the city was quiet that time of the night, there were still males and females alike stumbling around on brew, their drunken, boisterous laughter booming in the still air.

I gritted my teeth, leaning back against the wall of the alley, peering down the narrow entrance. The building of a brothel was to the left. To the right, a tavern.

Dothikwas the last place I wanted to be but the Dothikkar had summoned us all now that the frost had passed. Frustration built in my gut. I had just led my horde east into ungira territory, where we would remain for a few moon cycles. Ungira were dangerous beasts, the most violent and territorial of all game on Dakkar. It did not sit well with me that my darukkars, my horde warriors, would make the first hunt of the season in my absence. Anything could happen.

When a small door slid open to my left, I growled, my hand darting to the sword at my hip. A small, breathy gasp made my ears twitch and my tail flick restlessly behind me. But I realized it was only a brothel whore, as surprised by my being there as I was by her unexpected interruption.

My hand fell away from the hilt of my blade as I regarded her with narrowed eyes. Her full lips were painted black. Her red eyes raked down my body, no doubt wondering if I had gold to pay her should she approach me.

But I made her wary, hesitant. Her instincts were warning her away from me.

She mistook the dark grin that spread over my features for interest. Despite her better judgment, she walked down the short steps to where I was hidden in the dark. When she was in front of me, she parted her robe, her body nude underneath, her breasts full, her nipples painted gold, though the shimmering color was smudged, as if another male had already been suckling there.

“We do not have to go inside,” she murmured, her voice husky and warm, though I detected the thread of fear underneath. Still, she cupped one of her breasts, pinching her nipple until it was tight. “You can fuck me out here if you wish. If you like that.”

And despite my anger, despite the sudden desire thickening my cock, both emotions tangling so deep within me, a knotted mess that had been there since I was young, I was tempted to ask her price. Something quick, something distracting, something rough…perhaps it was what I needed.

Then she made the mistake of touching me. She reached down to cup mycock through my trews, pressing. Her eyes went wide, her lips parting, but I snatched her hand away and snarled.

The brothel whore’s startled gasp met my ears. She backed away, eyeing my face when I stepped forward into a thread of golden light from the tavern’s windows next door.

She saw my scar, recognized my features, and stunned realization went through her. Immediately, her head dropped, shielding her gaze, and she greeted, “Vorakkar. Forgive me. I did not—”

I was already pushing past her, more frustrated now than I’d been before. Being in Dothik, I was never alone. I could never be. It was why I’d sought out the darkened alley to begin with. For quiet.

Though, I feared the shadows most of all. I feared what hid there, what lingered.

At the last moment, I dropped her a golden coin and heard it clatter on the stone at her feet. “For your trouble,” I rumbled and then stalked away, my footsteps thudding hard on the cobbled path.

There was a sour stench in the air that made my belly churn. I was tempted to turn towards where my pyroki was stabled, take her from the mrikro, and steal away from the city in the night. Ride until I met my horde in the east. Only then would I breathe easier. Only then would the air be cleaner. Only then would the dark memories of this city fade.

Instead, I paced Dothik restlessly—as I used to when I was younger—keeping my face shielded in my cloak, though most I encountered steered clear of me. Buzzing under my skin made me walk faster, longer, eating up the city under my boots. A part of me was tempted to return to the brothel and bury myself in a female or two until the restlessness passed. Perhaps then I would sleep. But I knew sex would make it worse.

I stayed away from the western part of the city, where I used to live with my family, and where she used to live. To the south, I had just turned down a set of slanted stairs, stepping over a slumbering male’s outstretched legs, when I spotted a cloaked figure hunched against the side of darkened home. The small figure was trembling, despite the warmth in the air. I frowned. A child?

But the cloak wasn’t Dakkari-made. That alone made my spine straighten, made me regard the child closer.

The figure’s head came up slightly and seemed to freeze at the sight of me. Slowly, the child pushed up from the wall.

Nik, not quite a child, I thought. They were too tall. The long cloak brushed the ground, making a swishing, rustling sound as the figure hurried away, limping.

Stilling, I watched them retreat, down the narrow, curving street. That deep into the city, there was no one around, save for the slumbering, drunk male on the stairs. It was quiet. I could still hear the figure’s steps on the stone echoing back to me.

Leave it, I told myself. Return to the brothel and spend the rest of your energy into a female. Or better yet, return to the Dothikkar’s keep and take one of his freely offered concubines for the night.

But my feet carried me after the mysterious cloaked figure, my curiosity piqued. Even still, my hand strayed to my sword once more, my gut telling me that something was amiss and that I should be prepared.

Keeping to the shadows, I followed, softening my quick footsteps as I wound down the cobbled path. The figure hadn’t made it far. I could hear their exhaled, panicked breaths even from a distance. When they turned their hooded head in my direction, I pressed to the wall, closing my eyes so the reddened glow wouldn’t give me away in the darkness.

A moment later, the cloaked figure slipped down a dark alley, one that wouldn’t lead anywhere. But not before I saw the flash of their foot under their cloak and I froze, my mind racing, not thinking what I saw was possible.

Emerging from the shadows, I followed, not bothering to shield the sound of my hurried gait. When I reached the entrance, they were just backing out of it, seeming to realize their mistake. The figure didn’t see me coming.

My heart quickened when I snagged them around the waist, pushing them back into the wall of the alley, restraining their arms, which felt like twigs in my palms.

A soft, surprised cry made my ears twitch, made my eyes widen.

With an impatient growl, I pushed back their hood and stared into the face of a vekkiri kalles. A human female.

Here, in Dothik.

In the walled capital city of Dakkar with the Dothikkar’s guards on regular patrols.

A human.

I was not surprised often. But right then, I could only stare down into her strange face, my jaw tight, squeezing her arms perhaps a bit too tightly in my astonishment.

Primal fear marked her face. She was trembling in my grip, her eyes bright and wet. She was not a child, after all. She was a female, grown. Her breasts pressed against the wall of my chest and I found her extremely pleasing to look at, despite her fear.

“P-please—” her voice broke. “Ple-ease don’t hurt me.”

The stuttered words filtered through my brain and I processed them with a narrowed gaze. She spoke in the universal tongue. The language had sat, unused, in my mind for so long that I had almost forgotten it.

“Hann…hanniva,” she whispered.

Now, she spoke in Dakkari.

Please, she begged.

It didn’t put me at ease. Where had a human female learned the Dakkari tongue?

I didn’t release my grip on her. Instead, I studied her intently, my gaze rapt on her face while she trembled in my hold, her breaths coming out in quick gasps.

Her shimmering eyes were wide and light-colored. I had never seen a parallel to their color in a Dakkari. Or perhaps their lack of color, since hers were a clear, luminous grey. Her hair was dark but the stench of it, unwashed and dirty, drifted up to meet my nostrils. Dirt smudged her flesh, and her cloak, upon closer inspection, was tattered.

The female froze when I parted her cloak, stiffening under my touch. I’d meant to search for a weapon. I hadn’t expected for her to be dressed in nothing but a sheer shift underneath, one that exposed her naked body to me. A growl rose in my throat. Her limbs were long and willowy. Her nipples were pebbled tight, pink in color. A tuft of light curls shielded her sex from my view. All smooth, unblemished, unscarred flesh.

“Vok,” I cursed.

My body reacted of its own accord, the unexpected sight of her body surprisingly erotic. Shaking my head sharply, my nostrils flaring, I grappled for control. There was no weapon in sight, but when my hand gripped her hip, tugging her forward, she made a strangled sound in the back of her throat.

“No.”

Then her hand shot forward, quicker than I could blink, and she struck me across the face.