Claimed By the Horde King by Zoey Draven

Chapter Nine

Ithink I let out a small squeak of outrage. I couldn’t be certain.

All I knew was that I was staring. The demon king effortlessly dropped into the large bathing tub and between his legs, I saw that his massive cock was somewhat erect, swinging with his movements.

Panic seeped into my veins, freezing me in place.

I blinked and stuttered out, “You know, I-I…I’m not like that.”

When the demon king sank low into his bath, he made a grunt of pleasure, his eyes momentarily sliding shut as the hot water enveloped his body. My mind caught on that detail and I imagined being cocooned in complete, delicious, soothing heat that way. Longing grew in my heart, even though it fluttered with panicked disbelief.

“Like what, thissie?” he rasped, a splash of water meeting my ears as he scooped water over his broad shoulders.

I jerked my gaze away, tapping a rhythm on my wrist with my fingertip. I desperately ached for my bow. I needed that centered focus, that simple act of calm as I nocked my arrow and drew it back. As I inhaled a slow breath and then...released. I used to practice on the wall of my home.

“If this is your plan, keeping me here as a prisoner, all for the purpose of...of sex, your efforts will be wasted,” I explained in a rush. “I think I am quite immune to such things.”

When I chanced a peek over at him, I saw him regarding me, carefully analyzing my words.

“You are immune to what, exactly?” he rasped.

“Sex,” I told him, frowning. “Desire. Need. I don’t feel those things.”

“I think you are lying,” he said, ignoring what I was trying to tell him.

“And even if I did feel those things, it wouldn’t be for you,” I said, irritated and nervous. The tapping on my wrist grew faster.

He went still in the bath at my words. Then he rasped, “If you are immune to such things, if you are immune to me, then my bathing should not bother you, thissie. Certainly not this much.”

I bit the insides of my cheeks hard and made a conscious effort to slow my breathing.

“I am just informing you now, since I must sleep here tonight,” I told him. “The last male who tried to take from me ended up with my arrow in his shoulder.”

Silence came from the bathing tub except for an odd scratching noise. When I looked up to identify it, I saw his claws were curled into the sides of the tub, gouging marks into it.

Momentarily, I forgot that I wasn’t supposed to look too deep into those eyes and he snared mine quickly as punishment. Right then, he looked every bit like an enraged demon, from the scowl on his face to the scorching heat in his eyes.

“And did he?” he growled, his voice darkening. “Take from you?”

“No,” I whispered. “I told you. I had my arrow and…”

The look in his eyes was making me nervous, but oddly enough, it made me stop tapping on my wrist. The look in his eyes made my body still and my mind quiet.

I had a ridiculous thought that maybe Jana was wrong. Maybe letting a demon take your soul wasn’t such a terrible thing. It didn’t feel like a terrible thing. Not right then at least. I felt almost calm.

“Who was it?”

“What?” I whispered.

“What is his name?” he said slowly, but clearly.

“I thought it was rude to ask for names,” I said, wondering why he would ask, given what he’d told me that morning.

“Vok,” he cursed under his breath before jerking his gaze away. Released of his eyes, I felt my shoulders sag and my nerves return. “You are…”

I waited, tensed and quiet.

Then my eyes shot to him when he rose from the bath, water racing off his bared flesh. Miles and miles and miles of it. I remembered that I’d thought of him as a wall when I’d first seen him. A wall of strength and power, one that took up the entirety of my vision. All I could see right then was him. Even the tent seemed to fall away.

He trailed water all over the rugs as he stalked to a metal chest. He rummaged through it, found what it was he sought, and came towards me, all naked flesh and sinewed power. The sight of him made my throat bob and my eyes wander. For once, I cursed my own curiosity as I felt my cheeks grow warm.

He halted in front of me, his cock swaying between his legs, his heavy, dusky sack just beneath.

Before I had time to react, he dropped something in my lap and then returned to his bath.

A gift? I wondered, my breath hitching when I looked down at it. It was a dagger hilted inside a beautiful sheath of white bone, etched in gold pigment.

Pulling out the dagger, I saw it was lethally sharp. I could see my reflection in it and I peered more closely, seeing my pale face and dark eyes. I wished I was more beautiful, but figured it couldn’t be helped. It was a ridiculous, vain thing to wish for anyways.

“Is…is this for me?” I asked him softly, slowly. With hesitation, I looked over at him. He’d situated himself back inside his hot bath, the steam twirling around him. He’d dunked his head under water and his blond hair dripped droplets over his shoulders.

“Lysi,” he grunted.

“I can keep this?” I asked, looking down at the dagger, wanting to be sure. “It’s a gift?”

He exhaled a rough breath. “Lysi. A gift.”

“Oh,” I said, staring at my reflection in the blade. I’d never been given a gift before. My expression was perplexed, my lips turned down. “What do you want for it?”

“Neffar?”

“What do you expect for it in return?”

“I just told you it is a gift,” he growled, glaring at me.

“Nothing is free,” I told him. “There is always a reason.”

“That reason,” he rasped, “is so you know you can protect yourself if the occasion arises. That is Dakkari steel, forged by blade masters in Dothik. It is far better and far sharper than any arrow and I give you my full permission to gut me with it if you feel unsafe in my presence.”

“Are you mad?” I asked softly, disturbed that he was so trusting. “You don’t know me. I could kill you in your sleep tonight if I so choose.”

“Vok, thissie, you will drive me mad by the night’s end,” he growled. “Enough. Let me enjoy my bath in peace.”

Looking back down at the blade, I touched the tip, testing its sharpness. Only using the lightest of pressure, a bead of red blood appeared on my fingertip. Satisfied, I sucked the drop away and sheathed the dagger carefully.

“Will you react this way every time I give you a gift?” he muttered, as if he couldn’t help but ask the question, though he’d demanded peace.

I frowned, though a treacherous excitement wound its way up my chest. “Will there be more?”

He said something in Dakkari, a longer phrase that he knew I wouldn’t be able to understand. Then he went quiet.

“You…” I trailed off, looking at the dagger, wondering if I would have need of it while I remained in the Dakkari horde’s encampment. “You really don’t want me in that way, right?”

He was a horde king of Dakkar. I was a human. Surely, males like him expected their bedmates to be more experienced, more beautiful, more sensual. As for me, even if I was interested in sex, I wouldn’t pick the fierce demon king who’d ordered my whipping as my first lover. I would want someone tender and kind and gentle. I was quite certain he was none of those things.

“I never said that,” came his deep reply and a shiver raced up my spine, “but I assure you, thissie, that you will be more than willing in my furs when that time comes for us.”

When. Not if. As if it was a certain thing.

If I’d been the surprised, gaping sort, my jaw would’ve dropped to the ground right then.

But all I did was glare at him, tracing the inlaid gold on the dagger’s sheath.

“Is that why you brought me here? Why am I to sleep in your bed tonight?”

“Nik, thissie,” he said and I wondered why he kept calling me thissie. I wondered what it meant, but knew it was the wrong time to ask.

“Then tell me why I am here,” I demanded, growing frustrated. “Tell me why you took me from my village, why you had your healer tend to me day and night though my wounds were of your doing, why you give me gifts like this dagger and these clothes, and why I will share your bed this night, though I have been here five days already, and surely that was enough time for you to make other, proper, more…more appropriate arrangements.”

I was shivering as I spoke, perhaps a little frightened by how he might react, though I’d told him earlier I had no reason to fear him. Looking at him now, the grey rings of his irises freezing me into place, I thought that perhaps I’d been wrong. There were plenty of reasons to fear him, just not the reasons I would’ve believed at first.

“You call me a demon,” he said quietly, “because you believe I am stealing your soul away. But I already told you, Nelle, that if I am a demon, then so are you. Because you are stealing more of mine right at this moment.”

His words made goosebumps break out over my flesh, underneath the warm kinnu fur sweater.

“That is why I took you from your village. Why you are here.”

“I—I don’t understand,” I whispered, frustrated. “I don’t understand what you want from me.”

With a growl, he tore his gaze away from mine and leaned his head back on the lip of the tub, staring up at the ceiling of the tent. He splashed his face with water and then rested his wrists on the edge, water from his claws dripping onto the rug.

“I do not understand either,” was all he said in reply.

All I heard was the soft thumping of my own heart and a slight, whistling wind that picked up outside the tent.

I didn’t know how long we remained in silence, but it wasn’t long after that I realized my legs were numb underneath me.

When the horde king finally stood from the bathing tub, I kept my gaze averted. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him reach for a wrap of fur to dry himself off with.

“You cannot return to your village until after the cold season,” he said, his hair dripping across his shoulders, his voice hard and strange. “I will not task my warriors with making that journey now. Until then, you can make yourself useful here. There is much to be done in a horde, even after the first frost.”

Biting my lip, I offered hesitantly, “I am good with my bow.”

He made a sound in the back of his throat and tossed the fur aside, close to the raised fire basin, so it could dry.

“I know, kalles. I saw you hunt the rikcrun that night,” he rasped and I felt shame fill my chest. “But there is no game during the cold season here and so I will find you another task.”

He was still nude when he went around the tent, extinguishing the flickers of flames from the oil lamps, one by one, until the only source of light was the fire. It cast long shadows over his body, but I kept my eyes on his. The fire reflected in those dark, shining orbs made me think of Drukkar, one of the Dakkari’s deities. He was said to be unyielding and merciless and fierce.

“Come sleep if you are not going to bathe,” he ordered, tossing back the furs on the plush bed before climbing in. Still completely naked.

I rose from the low table, my dagger tight in my grip, and hesitantly approached. Unlike him, I kept every stitch of my clothing on, save for my boots, though I was tempted to wear them. But his furs were thick and soft and I didn’t want to muddy them. They were much too nice to be ruined and I trusted, perhaps naively, that he would remain true to his word, that he wouldn’t touch me if I was unwilling.

I kept my dagger within reach, however, as I lay down beside him on my stomach, on top of the furs since my back was still too tender.

The winds outside were growing in intensity and I wondered if this was the night the cold season would come.

A rikcrun? I questioned silently, thinking over his words in the stretching silence. Was that the proper term for a grounder?

Hesitantly, I turned my face towards him, pushing my hair away from my eyes. It was the softest and cleanest it had ever been, but I was learning that it seemed to possess a wild mind of its own in this new state.

When he saw me look over at him, he tilted his chin to return my stare, watched as I tucked strands of that wild hair behind my ear.

I’m no demon, I thought. Or am I?

“Your hair looked lighter before, but now it is black,” he commented quietly. It had looked lighter because of all the dust and dirt clinging to the strands, no doubt. “Just like a Dakkari’s.”

“Not like yours,” I pointed out. I’d seen no one else that day with blond hair in his horde, which led me to believe he was an outlier, an anomaly.

His lips pressed together and I thought I’d displeased him in some way, but didn’t know why.

“I want you to know,” I began softly, “that I don’t like hunting.”

He exhaled a long breath, but said nothing.

“I like using my bow and arrow,” I continued, “but not for the purpose of killing. I hunted because I had to, because I’m good at it, though sometimes I wish I wasn’t.”

“I know, thissie.”

I didn’t know why it felt important to tell him. But it did. Perhaps it was my own guilt bubbling up inside me, spurred by the reminder he’d watched me kill the grounder that night. Because sometimes I thought that if Blue hadn’t been injured that summer day in the Dark Forest—if she’d been perched on a branch or flying close above the canopy of the trees—would I have leveled my bow at her too? Would I have calculated how many credits Grigg would’ve given me for her? It made me sick thinking about it.

“What does thissie mean?” I asked, clearing my throat when it tightened.

He didn’t tell me. Just like his name, he kept that answer close, too.

“Veekor, kalles,” he told me. “Sleep.”