Captive of the Horde King by Zoey Draven

Chapter Twenty

The tent was dark when I stepped inside, after the guard announced my presence. Guilt hit me in the stomach when I saw the injured warrior, sprawled out on his bed. A female was tending to him, his mate, I realized, and that guilt doubled.

“Hello,” I greeted, hoping that at least one of them spoke the universal tongue. “May I come in?”

The female nodded and relief went through me. “Morakkari,” she greeted, inclining her head, standing from beside the bed.

The warrior was eyeing me in surprise. His right thigh was bandaged all the way to his knee. It was elevated on cushions and I pressed my lips together, my shoulders sagging.

“I…” I trailed off. Incense was burning in the tent, similar to the one that had been burning in Hukan’s, though not quite as potent. The female had been grinding up herbs in a pestle, probably for her mate’s wound, to decrease the risk of infection. Clearing my throat, I met the warrior’s eyes and said, “I wanted to apologize.”

The female made a sound in the back of her throat, but the warrior kept my gaze.

“It was my fault you were injured,” I said. “I made a mistake. I have come to ask your forgiveness.”

Both of their gazes were wide and the female blinked rapidly, processing my words.

The warrior averted his eyes—which I took as a good sign—as he said, “Morakkari, you do not need to apologize.”

“I do,” I said simply. “And don’t say I don’t need to because of the Vorakkar. I want to apologize, for putting you in danger. The Vorakkar made the right decision. I see that now. And I’m so grateful that no one else was hurt due to my foolishness. Please, warrior, accept my apology.”

Arokan might be upset to know that I’d come there, after he told me I couldn’t see the warrior. But I didn’t care. It was what I should’ve done first thing that morning.

The warrior didn’t hesitate. For a brief flash, he met my gaze and then looked away. “I do, Morakkari. Thank you for honoring our voliki with your presence.”

His acceptance didn’t make all the guilt go away, but I felt slightly better now that I’d come.

“Thank you,” I said. “Kakkira vor.”

Words that Mirari had taught me. They meant ‘thank you’ in Dakkari, or at least I hoped they did. By the small, albeit warm, smile the female gave me, I hoped I didn’t butcher the words.

“I’ll let you rest,” I said softly with a smile at both of them. “But if you don’t mind, I’d like to check in on you later. I can bring you your meals.”

I turned then but the warrior called out, “Morakkari.” I looked at him. “There is talk throughout the horde you worked in the pyroki enclosure this morning.”

“I did,” I said hesitantly.

“The mrikro, the pyroki master,” he started and I assumed he meant the grumpy elderly Dakkari, “enjoys hji. It is a fruit. You can acquire it from one of the merchants near the front of the camp. It will…soften him towards you.”

Bribery. The warrior was telling me to bribe the mrikro grump into giving me a better job, one that didn’t include shoveling shit.

I grinned and laughed slightly. “Hji, huh?” I nodded, already forming a plan for the morning. “Thank you, warrior. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Arokan returnedin the middle of the night. I’d been tossing and turning, thinking of the story he’d told me about his father and mother, about the Ghertun.

So, when I heard the clattering of hooves across the earth and hushed Dakkari voices, I sat up in bed, clutching the furs to my chest. Soon, I heard heavy footsteps approach the tent and my breath hitched when Arokan ducked inside, looking tired, but unharmed.

Relief trickled through me. His eyes burned into mine but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he extinguished the sole candle I’d let burn, undressed until he was nude, and then climbed into bed beside me.

He smelled like salt and the earth and pure Dakkari male. Greedily, I dragged him into my lungs as I settled back down onto the furs.

Arokan gripped the back of my neck, pulling me towards him before running the tip of his nose along the column of my throat. My breath hitched, desire building at the small touch.

“Did you find them?” I whispered into the darkness, finding the familiar glowing yellow of his ringed eyes.

“Lysi,” was all he said, his voice floating over the flesh of my neck. He ran his tongue there next and my hands trembled underneath the furs.

“Were any of the warriors hurt?”

“Nik.”

His scent muddled my thoughts as his hand trailed down. I could feel him hard against my body. I was quickly learning that Dakkari males had a healthy need for regular sex and just remembering that consuming need made my belly quiver.

I stayed as still as possible, torn between reaching for him and simply lying there, frightened by the potent desire I felt for my captor husband.

Never in a million years did I think I would want him this way. The thought hadn’t crossed my mind when I made that initial bargain.

He felt me tense when his fingers reached my sex, when he gently ran his thumb along my slit. He stilled and pulled back, peering down at me with those observant, watchful eyes.

Whatever he saw made his jaw tick and with a rough sound, he pulled his hand away, settling back against the cushions.

“Sleep, kalles,” he ordered and then promptly shut his eyes. “Veekor.”

Confusion, frustration, and perhaps even relief, flooded through me.

I bit my lip, still able to feel the heat of his hand between my thighs, the warmth of his tongue ghosting across my neck. Squirming, I blew out a quiet breath and then hesitantly settled back into my cushion, facing away from him.

What was that about?I wondered.

Closing my eyes, I listened to his steady breathing, trying to calm my racing thoughts and my burning body.

And I fell into another restless sleep wondering why he’d stopped…and realizing that I hadn’t wanted him to.