Madness of the Horde by Zoey Draven

Chapter Twenty

“Davik!” she cried out. He could hear her voice but the ungira in front of him was coiling to strike, tightening its thickly corded muscles.

Devina, his sister, was crying, tears streaked down her face. He could almost feel her fear but he would be brave for her. Lomma would be proud if he was brave. So would their father, though he was out on a hunt, and wouldn’t return to the horde for another week. It was his duty to protect his family.

The ungira had come too close to the horde. The Vorakkar and a large portion of the darukkars, his father included, were absent. Davik had found the slithering beast, who made its home burrowed in the ground, while they’d been out exploring.

Now, it was targeting them. His sister was in danger. He was in danger. The horde was too far away to call for help. All he had was a makeshift blade he’d crafted from sharp stone. It had taken him all week and he’d been excited to show his father when he returned.

“Davik!” Devina screamed when the ungira struck out fast, its fangs flashing black, coming towards him with lightning speed.

Determination made his mind go quiet. He knew fear, but he didn’t understand why it made others foolish. He never wanted to be foolish. He wanted to be a darukkar, like his father…and only the bravest and strongest of Dakkaricould be warriors.

At the last moment, Davik dropped to the ground, though the ungira’s single talon, which had emerged from its long belly for its defense, slashed his side. Its strike cut him but with a small bellow, Davik plunged the stone blade into its belly, where his father said was the ‘hunting spot,’ hearing its hissing shriek in response.

As its black blood spilled over him, as the slithering beast died in a moment, falling on top of him…Davik grinned. He’d done it.

The world sounded muffled underneath the ungira’s bulk. He felt a sharp pinch in his side, from where the beast had cut him. He felt tired. He wanted to close his eyes. It was hard to breathe under the weight of the ungira but he wanted to bring it back to the horde, to show his mother that he’d hunted it. That he was the youngest Dakkari to ever take down an ungira.

“Davik,” Devina sobbed. He heard her on the other side. He sensed that she was pushing, pushing the ungira with all her might. Little grunts and tearful gasps followed. Davik had the odd thought that she would be angry with him. Lomma had just gifted Devina a new dress and now it would be blackened with blood.

Light burst in his vision and air filled his lungs. She’d done it! Devina had actually managed to push off the ungira from where it had him pinned.

“You saved me,” she gasped, her identical eyes wide. He was older, even if it was only by a little bit of time. It was his duty to protect her. “You saved me, Davik.”

He was still gasping from being crushed under the ungira’s weight, still covered in its blood…still grinning.

“Nik, you saved me,” he told his sister.

But that was how it was meant to be.

They had shared everything in life, even their mother’s womb. Why would glory—or death, for that matter—be any different?

* * *

Savagely,I was torn from the dream…and it felt like a piece of my soul had been torn away with it.

I gasped, drawing in breath desperately, like I’d been crushed underneath the ungira and not…Davik.

My eyes flew to the horde king, who had me pinned underneath him, who was glaring down at me with his red and glowing gaze, his hand poised at my throat.

“Who are you really?” he growled.

“W-what?” I asked, scared, confused. My head was throbbing, like I’d used my gift. But I knew that I hadn’t. I’d been asleep! I’d been…

Dreaming.

His memories?

Impossible. It had never happened before.

Yet, everything had felt so real. The ungira’s cold flesh, its coiled body, its crushing bulk. The shrill fear in Devina’s voice, her relief so palpable I had felt tears well in my throat. The ground underneath me—no, not me. Him. The warm blood that had bloomed under my—his—tunic.

I was losing my mind.

“How do you know that name?” the horde king growled, his tone furious.

My hand came up to rest on his thick wrist, my fingers brushing the warm gold of his cuffs. His Vorakkar cuffs, ones I’d never seen him without.

His hand at my throat wasn’t squeezing me. It was more to keep me in place, keep me still as he interrogated me.

“Your name?” I whispered, staring up at him. My gift was evolving, I realized. Changing.

Or…was it because I’d entered his mind too many times? Changed his emotions once too many? Had I unknowingly absorbed some of his memories in the process? From his past, of his sister, of his childhood on the plains of Dakkar?

My question made him more enraged. I could sense his restlessness, crawling underneath his skin. He was disturbed.

Iwas disturbed.

Davik had been young in the dream—no, the memory—no older than ten. And his sister…

He had a sister.

One he loved desperately. I had felt his affection for her, his pride in keeping her safe. Where was she now?

“Is it your name?” I asked, suddenly scared at what he might answer. Because if it was…if I’d just dreamed his memories…

I didn’t know what it meant. I didn’t know if I could stop it.

“Please,” I pleaded with him softly, looking up at him with tears in my eyes, my temples pounding, making the world go fuzzy.

The Mad Horde King stared down at me. He was naked above me. I’d kicked off the furs during the dream. His thighs kept my hips pinned and his hand felt like a claim of possession on my throat, like he owned me, like he could do whatever he wished with me…

And gods, I didn’t think I’d stop him.

“Say it,” he rasped.

His Vorakkar command. One I couldn’t help but obey. That voice, dark and sinful, threaded up my spine, made my nipples tighten.

“I want to hear it from your lips,” he growled.

He wanted me to say his name.

“Say it!”

“Davik,” I whispered.

His fingers flexed on my throat. A shuddering sigh escaped him, his eyes falling closed. Like he couldn’t bear to hear it? Like it pained him?

“Say it.”

I swallowed. I was certain he could feel my heart beating in my throat.

Licking my lips, I murmured, “Davik.”

“Again,” he said quietly, his eyes opening, the red of his circular irises flaring.

“Davi—”

With an anguished, raw sound that tore from his throat, he silenced me with a rough kiss. His hand tightened, drawing me towards him. I could do nothing but gasp against his lips, my palms squeezing on his wrists.

It was a kiss meant to punish. Even in my inexperience, I recognized that. He was punishing me for daring to speak his name, when I knew that I shouldn’t know it. The Dakkari considered their given names sacred. I knew that.

So, a horde king of Dakkar would keep his especially close, wouldn’t he?

I wondered now if anyone outside his horde even knew it. If anyone inside his horde knew it.

His teeth hit mine, one of the sharper points cutting into my lip. I tasted the metallic bite of my blood and the whole world seemed to sway when he licked it away, when he stroked his tongue against mine afterwards.

I was completely at his mercy, pinned under his weight like he’d been by the ungira. When I felt his hips drop, when I felt him grind the length of his hard cock against me, my sex tingled, my belly warmed, my desire unfurling rapidly.

I was feeling aroused by this?

I didn’t understand it.

When he sucked on my tongue again, I swore I felt it in other places.

A whimper escaped me when his cock slid over my tunic, between my legs. When had I widened them for him? But there was no denying he’d sunk against me, was cradled between my thighs.

When he ground down again, the heat of him rubbed over that single spot that felt so good and I couldn’t conceal my moan.

His hair fell over us, curtaining us from the world. When I opened my eyes, he was watching me in the darkness. He thrust over me again even as he glared.

He tore his lips away from me, taking away his kiss. He bit at the fleshy part of my ear and rasped, “You could come from this, couldn’t you, leikavi? For the first time.”

My answer was a shuddering moan when he bucked his hips.

Yes. Something was happening. The pleasure kept building. The muscles in my legs were tightening on instinct, my hips lifting against his. A deep throbbing came from inside me, one that demanded to be satisfied.

His flesh was so hot against me. My hands were still wrapped around his wrists. The gold cuffs felt scalding.

His dark laugh made my neck tingle.

“Nik,” he purred. “Not tonight.”

Something was wrong. His tone was mocking.

He pulled away from me so fast. Whereas before I’d been overheated, now my skin felt chilled like ice.

Davik stood from the bed, his cock still hard, the tip weeping with his desire. He grabbed his trews from the floor, pulling them up quickly. His movements were jerky, rough, like he was furious.

I didn’t understand. Before I knew it, I’d built up the energy of my power…to try to understand. Building, building it between us, feeling the skin on my arms prickle into bumps. Pushing forward, I felt his need. Then I felt his anguish.

“Nik,” he bellowed sharply. “Stop.”

I was so shocked, so stunned that I dropped the small connection, leaving me dizzy.

“I do not know what it is you do, sorceress,” he spat, “but you will not get your claws any deeper into me. Do you understand?”

My chest clenched. The haze from my desire faded quickly, like I’d just plunged into icy water, though I still tasted him on my tongue.

Sorceress?

“You are dangerous,” he rasped, glaring at me.

Then he stormed from the voliki, though it was the dead of night, as if he couldn’t stand to be with me a moment longer.