Madness of the Horde by Zoey Draven

Chapter Fourteen

Before I knew what was happening, the Vorakkar had burst from the tree line, his golden daggers drawn. He didn’t make a single sound as he aimed them for the nearest Killup’s throat.

“Wait,” I gasped out, my neck pressing into the stone blade held tight against my skin. “Don’t!”

They didn’t need to die. None of them did.

The horde king hesitated briefly at my words…but it cost him. The Killup he’d intended to strike whirled away, alerted to the danger, and five of the Killup jumped to his defense. They seemed to move as one, silently, slashing out their own blades at the horde king’s unprotected flesh.

He dodged easily and I frantically built up my gift’s energy, filling the space between the leader and myself.

Even though it wasn’t fully ready, I pushed into the Killup’s mind, my pupils dilating at what I found. He was…oddly calm. He was saddened by the slaughter of his jrikkia but he accepted their deaths. He feared for his fellow Killup because he recognized the Vorakkar for who he was…but he was prepared to lose them if necessary. He was prepared to die.

It was a mere flash of emotions and then they changed. I sensed he’d decided to fight, that he would order his Killup to swarm, to take down the horde king with a single blow.

Without wasting another moment, I delved and pushed. The cool, startling sensation of changing minds was not something I would ever grow used to. I knew how unnatural it was, how invasive. But at this moment—and all the moments I’d ever chosen to do so—I felt my interference necessary.

“Let us be,” I said softly and the leader’s gaze flickered back to mine. The gills on his neck flared. I felt the strange irritation that crept into his mind at my request. I pushed harder, though I felt a little resistance. Already, my temple began to throb, my vision began to waver. “We are only passing through. I am sorry about your jrikkia but they attacked us. We had no choice.”

Giving one final push before the connection dropped, I pulled away.

The Killup leader called out to the five Killup surrounding the horde king. I saw that while I’d been inside his mind, one Killup had been injured—there was a deep stab wound in his shoulder—and others had cuts from the horde king’s daggers. But still, they outnumbered him. Though they were lithe and sinewy, Killup were not small beings. Neither were Dakkari. But unlike humans, Killup matched the Dakkari’s height…and apparently some of their strength since I spied similar injuries on the horde king.

His red eyes glowed as they found mine before he cut them back to his opponents, who had all ceased advancing on him at their leader’s order.

Nausea began to flood my belly as the pain in my mind bloomed.

It was necessary, I resolved. No one had to die. The jrikkia had already given their lives. No more blood needed to be spilled.

“Why is a human traveling with a Vorakkar?” came a voice, raspy and quiet, nothing more than a whisper.

I turned back to the leader.

“Why are Killup so far west?” I returned in response.

His head tilted again. When I’d been inside his mind, I’d felt no malice, no ill will. He hadn’t wanted to harm us…but had thought it necessary to preserve the lives of his fellow Killup.

“I am sorry about your jrikkia,” I told him as a wave of dizziness made me sway. The two Killup that were holding me in place held me upright.

At the leader’s inclined head, their hands fell away. As did the dagger that had pressed into my flesh.

A low growl reverberated around the clearing. It came from the horde king. My stomach churned in dread at the look in his eyes and the way they flickered to the Killup. He was calculating. He wanted blood and he intended to have it.

I rushed over to him, pressing through the line of Killup to reach him. It was surreal to me that just moments before, he’d been against me in the most erotic and dangerous and arousing moment of my life.

Before he lashed out, which would threaten the tentative peace, I gathered the energy once more, though I gritted my teeth against the pain of it. It felt like a dagger being thrust into my temple, dragging across my brain.

I pushed, finding that familiar turmoil within him. That lingering darkness, that rage. He needed bloodshed. He needed it like a balm.

What has happened to you? I wondered.

I soothed, dulling that bloodlust as best as I was able, pressing a hand to his chest to steady myself. My hand slipped in black blood from a deep cut across his pectoral, smearing it across his flesh.

“They don’t want to harm us,” I whispered, holding his gaze as sparks flashed in my vision. “It’s—it’s all right.”

His brows furrowed. I felt the tension in his muscles easing as I pushed into his mind harder, even as bile rose up in my throat.

“Please,” I said, swaying. “Hanniva.”

I felt a trickle under my nose and he reached forward with his fingers. Red blood came away with them.

“Leikavi,” he rasped, his tone mildly alarmed.

“Don’t hurt them, horde king,” I said.

With the last of my energy, I tore away from his mind, gasping as my vision darkened. My knees gave out and I fell.

The last thing I remembered was his arms around me.