Madness of the Horde by Zoey Draven

Chapter Ten

When the sky grew dark, the horde king maneuvered his pyroki to a group of towering rocks and boulders. It looked like a miniature mountain range among the plains but would provide us with shelter and protection for the night.

I almost cried with relief once we stopped. Though I would have ridden straight to his horde—he’d told me the journey would take us several days—a selfish part of me wanted to rest. I was exhausted, physically and mentally. My lower half was numb and whenever I tried to move my feet, they tingled painfully. My arms and abdomen were sore as well, from holding myself up for the better part of the day.

Everything was sore, truthfully.

The horde king dismounted first, swinging his leg over easily. Then he reached up for me, grabbing me around my waist and pulling me down.

I hissed, grabbing onto his wrist to keep myself from toppling over. Pinpricks, like I was being jabbed with needles, exploded down my legs and it took them a moment to cease.

But when they did, I felt burning pain through my lower half. My thighs, my inner thighs, my backside. My bones felt like they were bruised, while my buttocks and thighs felt like they had been lit on fire.

The horde king frowned down at me but never released his grip. When I realized I’d grabbed onto him for support, I forced myself to step away, to stand on my own. But when I did, my legs shook and trembled and I damn near collapsed onto the ground.

He caught me, easily and swiftly, a testament to his speed.

“Let me see,” he rasped, his hand trailing to the tie around my waist.

“No,” I said, squeezing his wrist. “I—I’m fine. I just need to rest. Please.”

He ignored me. The silver light from the moon illuminated the clearing, bouncing off the golden markings across his chest, down his arms, and off his pyroki’s scales. The moon was a mere sliver now but would be full in two weeks…before disappearing once more. Then the black moon would blanket Dakkar.

I tucked my chin down when he loosened the tie and the pants fell from my bony hips, pooling around the boots, which he tugged off a moment later. He turned me, crouching in the earth, and my face would’ve burned right off had I not been in such pain.

I heard his curse when he lifted the hem of my tunic, baring my naked backside to his eyes. His hand came around my ankle, spreading my thighs. I almost cried out when the cool night air brushed across the chafed, bleeding, sore flesh.

He cursed again and then was silent. When I managed to crane my neck and peer down at him, his jaw was ticking. He looked furious.

At me? I didn’t know. Was he angry that I was so weak? That I couldn’t handle a single day on his pyroki before practically disintegrating before his very eyes?

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, old instincts kicking in.

His brow furrowed. His eyes flashed up to me, those red eyes burning.

The horde king didn’t say anything. Instead, he rose, towering over me once more. He turned to his pyroki, to the travel sacks around its flank. He pulled out a large, tightly rolled up fur, spread it out on the ground in front of me, and helped me lie down on top of it, guiding me down onto my belly.

The pain radiated and throbbed from my backside as I regarded him closely. He had turned back to his pyroki, pulling a small basin from the travel sack next, one I knew the Dakkari used for fires, and placing it close by.

Next, he got feed and water for his pyroki, who lay down in the earth, resting her own weary bones, no doubt. Only once she was taken care of did he start a quick fire, which made the clearing burst into golden light, flickering off the tall rocks and fat boulders that shielded us from most of the night winds.

Throughout the day, he’d made sure I ate the dried rations he gave me and drank water from a skin. I wasn’t all that hungry now but when he drew close with the water skin, I accepted it gratefully and tipped it up, taking a healthy swallow of it.

“You should have said you were hurting,” he rasped, watching me drink. He had something cradled in the palm of his hand. He held it up when he saw me looking at it. “Uudun. This will help.”

Before I could question him, he was kneeling at my side and I tensed when he dragged up the tunic, baring my buttocks and reddened thighs. It was still cold, even with the rocks as a barrier against the harsh plain nights. A strong shiver racked my body, a breeze curling up my tunic, chilling my neck.

He didn’t ask for permission. Instead, he opened the jar, something slippery and green inside, dipped his fingers in and pressed them to the backs of my thighs.

My eyes watered when it stung. My legs twitched against the sharpness of the pain, but otherwise I forced myself to lie still. He applied more and more. The salve was cold but after the initial sting, my skin began to tingle. Then, miraculously, the pain began to melt away.

But as the pain lessened, I became more and more aware of his hands on me, so close to the sparse white curls that shielded my sex. He moved from the backs of my thighs to my inner thighs, where the flesh was most tender and sore. And after the initial teeth-gritting sting, the pain there lessened as well, though there was still the sensation of heat, of something unwell.

I sucked in a breath when one of his claws brushed my sex and my spine stiffened.

He paused before making a sound in the back of his throat.

“I am not so much of a monster that I will fuck you when you are in pain, leikavi,” he rasped.

His words did nothing to settle the sudden fear in my belly.

“You do not trust me?” he questioned. I got the sense that he was mocking me with his tone, as if he knew that, of course, I didn’t trust him. No one in their right mind would.

“I—I don’t know what to make of you,” I found myself saying.

“Neffar?”

“Sometimes, you can be kind in your own way. Other times, you are deliberately terrifying, like you want me to be frightened of you,” I whispered, pressing my cheek into the fur.

I sensed him moving and then he was kneeling in front of me. His claws curled under my chin, lifting my gaze to meet his.

“You should always be fearful of me, kalles,” he said gently, softly, like he was speaking to me like I was his lover, not the messenger of his enemy. “Because sometimes, I do not know what I will do. And when I get into states like that, no one can stop me. I am not kind. Do not think of me as such again.”

I swallowed audibly at the unspoken threat in his words.

What does he mean?I wondered but was too scared to ask. I didn’t think I wanted to know. The others called him the Mad Horde King for a reason, didn’t they?

He released my chin and went to stoke the fire, burning brightly in the golden basin, returning the uudun jar to the travel sack.

“Are you hungry?” he asked next, his voice still gentle.

I pressed my lips together. He’d tended to my wounds, then he threatened me, and now he wanted to feed me?

“No,” I whispered, closing my eyes, overwhelmed.

“Then sleep,” he commanded gruffly. “Veekor.”

Sleep was a welcome reprieve. I could escape him for a moment, escape this terrible, terrible world. Perhaps I would dream of my father, of our happy times instead of his death. Perhaps I would dream of my grandmother, of Maman, of my siblings.

Please keep them safe until I return, I pleaded.

But whom my prayer was directed to, I knew not. Maybe Kakkari. She’d helped the horde warrior and his pregnant wife after all. And I would gladly pay a price if it meant my family was safe.

Sleep found me and it was blissful.

* * *

“I don’t knowif that is the best idea,” I said, balking at his suggestion—no, his order.

He raised a brow.

“I was not asking,” he informed me gruffly, obviously annoyed, and it took everything in me not to break his gaze. If I ever questioned the Ghertun sibi I’d been assigned to serve, they would ensure my punishment so that it never happened again. I was tempted by those instincts to cower, to submit.

I was seated across the back of his pyroki already, looking down at him. The smallest of movements reminded me how uncomfortable the pain was. While the uudun salve had helped through the night, my skin hadn’t magically healed—it was still raw and red, though the salve had helped numb the area—and my muscles were still aching. Screaming, really. Muscles I didn’t even know I had.

The Vorakkar swung himself up onto the back of his pyroki after ensuring we left nothing behind. I almost winced when he settled his weight behind me, my thighs rubbing across the merciless hardened scales of the beast below us.

“We have two full days until we reach my horde,” he rasped, lifting me as if I weighed nothing. “You cannot last another day if you continue like this.”

Then he promptly placed me across his lap. His left arm braced my back, my buttocks were cradled by his groin, and my legs were draped across his right thigh, my booted feet dangling in the air, occasionally thudding against his pyroki’s side.

“Vir drak,” he ordered his pyroki and we darted into motion again, though the pace was slower. The Vorakkar realized this too and said, “Perhaps even three days.”

My lips pressed together. I held myself tensed and tight. My arm was squished against the broad muscles of his chest and I could feel them shifting with every rocking movement of the pyroki’s trot.

“The faster the better,” I said. “We don’t have to take it slow for my sake.”

He grunted, studying me. That was when I realized how close our faces were. Again, I could see those inky black tendrils shooting through the red of his eyes. I could see the puckered skin of his scar up close and for the first time, I wondered how he’d received it. It looked very deep, very old.

There was another scar I hadn’t noticed before on the opposite side of his face. His bronzed skin made it gleam golden near his strong jawline.

I realized, with a start, that he was strangely handsome—in a dark, cutting way. Looking at him was equally pleasing and terribly frightening.

I turned my head to regard the open plains in front of us, if only to break his gaze for a moment.

“Looking a Vorakkar in the eyes is a sign of disrespect, you know,” he told me, his tone sharp.

I froze, tensing even further in his lap. “I—I’m sorry, I didn’t realize.”

Yet, he’d let me look at him multiple times before this and said nothing? I didn’t understand him.

“The Ghertun did not teach you that?” he questioned. “Though they taught you some of our language? Though you know to fear a Vorakkar, as you should?”

“They didn’t teach me to fear a horde king,” I told him. “I’d already learned that for myself.”

The muscles in his arm tightened across my back. “Lysi? How did you learn that?”

I didn’t respond.

He let his question slide.

“What else did the Ghertun teach you?” he wondered, his tone softening.

I sensed him loosen the reins and the pyroki’s pace sped. Suddenly, I realized I was thankful. I felt pain from my thighs and buttocks, but not nearly as much as I would have had I been riding the way I’d been yesterday. And this way prevented further injury as I healed, though the position made me extremely uncomfortable.

Inhaling sharply, I felt him turn my face, though I kept my gaze on the wide, strong column of his throat. His neck was probably bigger than my thighs, I mused.

“Look at me, leikavi,” he commanded.

Surprisingly, a flare of annoyance shot through me and my gaze shot to his, narrowing.

“You cannot berate me for looking you in the eyes and then order me to in the next moment,” I said. The words felt good tumbling from my lips, though I didn’t know how he’d react to my insolence. “You choose one or you choose the other, horde king. So tell me what you prefer.”

What I didn’t expect was for him to laugh. It was a booming, loud laugh that seemed to echo across the wide, quiet plains. It was still early morning, the sun was still slowly rising, the earth still.

It was shockingly warm, his laugh. Rich and deep.

I found my lips were parted as I listened to it, found that some of my previous annoyance had given way to bafflement.

“I liked you better when you were slapping me across the face,” he purred.

I frowned, beyond confused. I wondered if all Dakkari were this…perplexing.

“Now, leikavi, I told you a story yesterday,” he murmured. “Now it is your turn to tell me one.” He gave me a dark grin. “And as you do, you are not allowed to break my gaze.”

At least I had my answer.