Captive of the Horde King by Zoey Draven

Chapter Sixteen

Another day, another barely-there outfit.

At least I’m wearing a top this time, I thought, eyeing myself.

“What is this about again?” I asked Mirari as Lavi brushed through my hair. That morning, I had woken to an empty bed, but I hadn’t even had time to process what had happened last night between Arokan and I before Mirari and Lavi burst into the tent. It was as if they kept their ears pressed to the hide, listening for any small indication that I’d woken.

The skirt was long, almost touching the tops of my feet, but it had slits up both sides, ending at my upper thighs. The top was sheer, though my breasts were covered in the intricate pattern of gold beads covering the front. The neckline, however, was plunging, leaving my neck and collarbones and valley of my breasts exposed.

“It is not our place to say,” Mirari said. She seemed strangely quiet that day.

“It has to do with the Ghertun scout, right?” I asked.

“Lysi,” Mirari replied.

I blew out a breath, knowing that she wouldn’t say anymore, and simply sat at the low table as Lavi worked on my hair, twisting it up so it was off my back. It didn’t take that long, but not a moment after she was done, I heard the unmistakeable sound of Arokan’s voice outside the tent, as he addressed the guards.

Mirari and Lavi, hearing him too, began to pack up their supplies and when Arokan ducked inside, they inclined their heads in respect and promptly left. I frowned after them, wondering why everyone seemed so somber that day.

Not that I had much time to wonder. Arokan looked fresh from the training grounds and he walked over to the bath that was still set up in the corner from earlier that morning, undressing as he went. I swallowed, watching him unclothe that glorious body, before I forced myself to clear my throat.

Though my bath water had to be cool by that point, Arokan dropped himself in and began to wash quickly.

“What will happen today?” I asked, still seated on the cushion at the table, the remnants of my breakfast laid out before me. I could already tell that I was putting on much-needed weight from the food. Regular meals would do that to anyone.

Arokan glanced over at me, those eyes pinning me in place. My cheeks felt hot as he looked at me. Last night had been…confusing. We’d actually talked without having a fight and it had been oddly comfortable. He’d even laughed at one point.

Though that morning, he seemed returned to his Vorakkar state—detached, a little cold, though those eyes ran hot when he looked at me.

I watched him scrub his arms and his chest. Finally, he said, “There will be a trial today.”

For the scout, I knew.

A trial. That didn’t sound so bad.

“You will need to uncover your wrists,” he said next, water splashing as he rinsed himself with cupped hands.

I looked down at the wraps around my golden tattoos. Lavi had helped me change them that morning.

“Do they still ache?” he asked once he stood from the tub after the quickest bath in history.

“Not much,” I replied, not wanting him to know that they were still tender.

Arokan dried himself off while I kept my gaze averted. He approached, still naked, and he crouched down in front of me, his tail flicking behind him.

Desperately, I tried not to look at his half-hardened cock between his thighs and met his eyes instead. His gaze was on my wrists and he took my hands before gently unwrapping the cloth that shielded the markings from sight.

The swelling was going down at least, though the flesh around the tattoos was still reddened. Arokan got up, retrieved the clear salve from his drawers, and returned. And then, with a surprisingly soft touch, he spread more salve over the healing skin. It felt good and cool. His hands on me felt even better.

“Hukan was rougher than she needed to be,” he admitted softly.

My eyes darted up to his, but he wasn’t looking at me. I didn’t know what to say to that without revealing what Mirari had told me.

“She will be rough with you for a while,” he said next, finally meeting my eyes. “Until she knows that you are strong.”

“And if I’m not strong enough?” I couldn’t help but ask, the insecurities that Hukan had brought up in her tent rising.

“You are,” was all he said. “Regardless, I will speak with her.”

“Please don’t,” I whispered, catching his wrist, my hand brushing against his golden cuff. “I can handle it.”

Arokan studied me before he finally nodded. “Very well.” He stood from his crouched position and my hand fell away from his wrist. “I have something for you.”

Curious, I watched him walk over to the chests filled with jewels and gold and—more than likely—night shifts for females.

My lips pressed together when he pulled out a necklace. A beautiful gold chain necklace and from it hung a pendant. A massive teardrop-shaped blood-red jewel that twinkled when the light hit it.

I’d never seen anything so beautiful but my mood dampened when I saw it. Because I knew those were the chests meant for his females, both past, present, and future lovers. It didn’t matter that I was his queen now. A Dakkari horde king would have concubines, without a doubt.

The jealousy surprised me. It was hot and cutting and I didn’t have any right to feel it. I shouldn’t feel it. Shouldn’t I be happy that he directed his amorous attentions elsewhere?

I stood slowly and he clasped it easily around my neck. It was as heavy as it looked and I felt that heaviness, that jealousy, settling in the valley of my breasts like a boulder.

“It’s beautiful,” I said softly, not quite meeting his eyes.

Arokan touched the jewel. I felt the heat of his hand warm it, like it was a living thing, and my breath went shallow.

How many jewels had he given to females, just like this one? Did this necklace belong to another?

Arokan frowned as he studied me but then grunted, turning away, going to dress. Instead of pants, he wore the small furred cloth that covered his genitals, that exposed his thick, muscular thighs. He wrapped his golden belt around his waist and sheathed a dagger and his golden sword into it.

“It is time,” he said. “Come.”

I followed him out of the tent into the sunlight. It was another beautiful day, though the air felt more chilled than it had yesterday. The cold season was approaching, crawling over the wild lands, and I wondered what the Dakkari did when it came. Did they return to Dothik, where they would be more sheltered from the bitter and harsh landscape?

The thoughts were welcome, anything to distract me from the heavy chain around my neck.

Most of the camp was empty though I heard a low murmur of restless noise coming from the front of the camp, near where the tassimara had taken place and where I’d seen Arokan training the day before. Instead of riding his pyroki—whose name I now knew as Kailon—Arokan led me through on foot, winding his way around tents I couldn’t see around, towards our destination.

We came to where we’d celebrated our tassimara, except the only thing that remained was the raised dais. Though instead of one throne, there were now two. Where the tables and the dancing area had been was now cleared of everything but the earth of Dakkar.

The horde was there—males, females, children. They were all kneeling on the earth paces back from the raised dais and they went silent the moment that Arokan and I appeared. Among the crowd, I saw Hukan in the front row, though her eyes narrowed when she saw me. A few rows back, I spotted Mirari and Lavi, who was kneeling next to the horde warrior male I’d seen her with.

But what made my spine straighten, what made my breath hitch, and my belly drop was the being that was kneeling directly in front of the dais, surrounded by four standing guards, each with their swords pointed at him.

The Ghertun scout.

He was bloody and beaten and had a collar around his throat, which was attached to a chain, carried by one of the guards.

“Luna,” Arokan said, his voice hard but quiet enough that no one would hear him, when I froze.

Jolting, I remembered that the hordes’ eyes were on us and I followed him up the dais, sitting in the throne he’d gestured for me to take. My throne. Still, I felt like an imposter sitting in it.

Then my eyes went to the Ghertun, since I’d never seen one before.

I thought his skin was a dark gray until I realized it wasn’t flesh, but scales. Hard plates of scales that made a whisper-like sound whenever he moved. His eyes were dark, black vertical slits. When he blinked, his eyelids closed from the sides, instead of from top-to-bottom. His nose was curved, almost like a beak, and his slim lips concealed razor-sharp yellow teeth.

He was watching me too, studying me with his strange, eerie gaze, before Arokan suddenly growled, in the universal tongue, “Remove your eyes from my queen before I remove them from your skull, Ghertun.”

In a flash, the Ghertun looked down, his shoulders sagging. He made a pitiful sight and my belly tugged, dread beginning to churn in my stomach when I saw how swollen his face was, when I saw his torn clothes, and a gash that separated his scales across his shoulder.

I glanced over at Arokan, my brow furrowed, my lips pulled down into a frown.

“Was he beaten?” I hissed softly.

The horde king—my alien husband—ignored me, though his jaw tightened just enough to reveal he’d heard my question and disapproved of it.

Back to this again, I thought, a flash of hurt tearing through me. Ignoring me in front of the horde.

My spine straightened in my throne, that blood red pendant shifting on my bosom. Looking down, I saw the markings of my tattoos and they flashed in the sunlight when I clenched my fists.

“I will ask you for the last time, in front of my horde,” Arokan said. “Where is your pack?”

“We do not mean you or your queen harm, horde king,” the Ghertun suddenly said, his voice like a slither down my spine. “As I have said.”

“You think I believe that?” Arokan asked, his tone so quiet that it was chilling. He sounded every bit as dangerous as he looked. Coupled with his fighting ability, which I saw yesterday, it made him just as deadly. “Ghertun do nothing but lie, rape, steal, and kill.”

“Some,” the Ghertun had the nerve to correct and I went still when Arokan growled, his claws digging into the arms of his throne. “Horde king, surely you are not foolish enough to believe we are all like the unsavory of our race?”

Did this Ghertun have a death wish?

Again, my gaze jerked to Arokan, though he seemed deceptively…unaffected.

“I would be a fool to take that chance,” he countered softly, his voice even and clear. “Even you, Ghertun spy, know that,” he mocked.

The Ghertun went quiet. The chains around his neck rattled as he turned to look at me, no doubt reading the seriousness of Arokan’s tone. “Horde queen, you are human. You come from an understanding, emotional race—”

“Do not address her!” Arokan growled, losing his temper again.

The Ghertun ignored him. “Convince your mate to have mercy on me. I mean no harm.”

His words shook me. The pleading in his tone. I remembered, not long ago, that I had the same desperation in my voice when I’d addressed Arokan, when he’d come to take my brother’s life.

“Enough!” Arokan roared, standing from his throne. “Tell me where your pack is now. I am running short on patience, Ghertun.”

The Ghertun looked up at my husband, craning his neck to see him, bloodied and weak. Pity rolled in my belly again and I bit my lip when Arokan descended the steps of the dais.

“Does it matter?” the Ghertun asked, though his voice wavered. “I am dead, regardless of what I tell you. You will slaughter my pack if I say.”

Arokan unsheathed his sword and the ringing of it echoed across the clearing.

My breath quickened, my eyes widening. Last night Arokan said I had to do my duty as Morakkari, that it would be something I didn’t like.

This was an execution, not a trial. He’d lied to me. He’d always known what this was. He’d never expected the Ghertun to answer.

But Arokan expected me to stay silent and watch. To do my duty.

“I am not my father,” Arokan said, his voice cold and hard. “I will not make his mistake by taking mercy on a Ghertun spy.”

His father?

With that, Arokan raised his sword. The Ghertun made a sound, a knowing, small sound.

That sound wrenched something inside me.

Before I knew what I was doing, I stood from my throne and yelled, “Stop!”