Captive of the Horde King by Zoey Draven

Chapter Twenty-Six

“Are you frustrated, kalles?” Arokan growled, his voice rough and wild, spurring on my emotion.

I was frustrated and tired and sore beyond belief.

“Yes,” I hissed back, the weight of the dagger still unfamiliar in my hand. It was perfectly balanced. The handle was made of bveri bone, strong and solid, and the blade was of light yet lethal Dakkari steel. Expertly crafted, or so Arokan had told me.

Arokan rushed me out of nowhere and I was unprepared, distracted by his words. I gasped and he grabbed my throat, to tell me that I’d let my guard down, that if he was an enemy, that would have been a kill shot. I would be dead.

The Dakkari didn’t mess around. Not with training. They’d been raised warriors, even the females, and everything that Arokan taught me demonstrated that.

He was hard on me because he wanted me to learn quickly. He wanted to make me stronger.

My husband squeezed my throat lightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to get my attention. My breathing went tight because I remembered when he’d done something similar between the furs, when he’d pinned me down and mounted me from behind.

Great. Now I was frustrated, tired, sore, and aroused.

“Get angry,” he growled, his body pressed against mine. “Feel that emotion and then let it go. Emotion will get you killed if you let it.”

My eyes narrowed and I pushed him away, my muscles straining.

“Again,” I said, panting with exertion.

His mouth tightened but he jerked his head in a nod.

It was a calm, peaceful night, though it was late. Arokan had finished with his duties later than usual, but he’d asked if I still wanted to train that night once he returned.

I’d wanted to, but instead of going to the training ground, he’d led me into the forest, much to my confusion.

I’d been nervous, considering the last time I’d been there, the Ghertun scout had most likely been watching my every move. But I trusted Arokan. He wouldn’t bring me there unless he believed it was safe.

“Use the environment,” he’d told me. “Anything can be a weapon if you use it correctly.”

With that in mind, I rushed him first that time. I’d been frightened to accidentally cut him with the blade or injure him in some way, but quickly, my fears had been alleviated. Arokan was much too skilled as a warrior to be seriously harmed by a novice like me. And when I had managed a shallow cut earlier on, he’d simply looked down at it and grunted, “Good. Very good, kalles.”

I’d been much too pleased by his praise to admit I’d cut him on accident.

He quickly side-stepped my rush, his arm swiping out to disarm me of my blade. It thudded softly onto the forest floor, but there was no time to reach for it.

Before I knew it, he dove for me and I hit the ground hard, the air in my lungs whooshing out of me. He straddled his thighs around my hips, keeping me pinned as his hands pressed down on my shoulders. And though I struggled to catch my breath, I never stopped struggling underneath him.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the dagger. It was close. I reached for it when he leaned down over me, my fingertips brushing the handle.

“Not quick enough, kalles,” he murmured. He bent his head close, his eyes flickering down to my lips.

There. I’d dragged the blade close enough with the edge of my middle finger and I snagged it quickly.

“You want a kiss for your victory, Vorakkar?” I whispered, quirking my brows.

His eyes flashed, desire firing in his gaze, and he lowered his lips, intent to claim just that.

But right before his lips touched mine, I whipped the dagger’s edge up to his throat, hovering just above his flesh.

Every muscle in his body tightened. His nostrils flared wide as he looked down at me in surprise.

Grinning, breathing hard, I whispered, “Maybe I get the victory kiss this time.”

Arokan growled. “Then take it, kalles.”

My grip on the blade loosened and I dragged him down, my free hand threading through his thick hair, as I took his lips in an almost angry kiss. I poured all my frustration, all my need into that kiss.

He met me head on, devouring me until my head spun, sucking on my tongue in a way where I felt it between my legs. I grew hot and wet for him in no time at all. The blade fell from my hand to the ground beside me and Arokan repositioned himself so I could spread my legs wide.

With a grunt, while I scrambled to untie the laces of his hide pants, he pushed up the short skirt I’d allowed Mirari and Lavi to dress me in that morning—and I thanked all the deities in the universe for that fortunate decision right then.

I gasped when he slid inside me with a rough thrust, my fingers gripping his shoulders as his head came to rest against the column of my neck.

It was rough and fast and primal. It was exactly what we both needed, to release the tension that had building for the better part of an hour, ever since we started the training session.

And when I came, I bit into his shoulder to conceal my scream, lest the guards come running. Arokan, on the other hand, couldn’t hide his roar of pleasure and it echoed around the forest, ringing in my ears, as he emptied himself inside me.

Afterwards, I laughed, laying in his arms as we recovered.

“Neffar?” he asked, his tone husky and lazy and content. That orgasm had stolen all the fight right out of him.

It was amazing what sex could do, how it made me feel. The past few days with Arokan had been…spectacular. Consuming. I’d felt like I was in this happy daze as I walked around camp, as if nothing could dampen my mood, not even my duty at the pyroki enclosure or whenever I happened to catch sight of Hukan’s glares.

“I was just wondering if the guards heard,” I teased, pressing my cheek against his shoulder.

Arokan grunted. “They have heard worse around camp. I assure you.”

I shook my head, still grinning. Looking up, I saw a million stars twinkling through the canopy of the forest. The dark, black trees towered overhead and if I was with anyone but Arokan, I might find them eerie and frightening. But right then, they were beautiful against the even more beautiful backdrop of the inky sky.

I sighed in contentment, feeling his arm tighten around me, and I squirmed closer when a cool breeze chilled the sweat from our activities on my skin.

“You did well tonight,” he praised softly. “You reminded me of something. That until the very last moment, there is always an opportunity to change your fate.”

“That was lucky,” I commented, my cheeks heating.

“Nik, do not dismiss it, Luna,” he told me. “You distracted me. You did not give up. And you waited until the opportune moment, luring me into a more comprising, vulnerable position so that my throat would be easier to cut.”

My belly fluttered. Though we were discussing a kill strike, one might think he was baring his entire soul to me with how breathless I felt.

“You feel comfortable with the blade?” he asked me next, quietly.

Because of my mother, he meant.

He remembered that and it touched me that he thought to ask.

“It’ll take some getting used to,” I admitted to him. “But it was better than I thought it would be.”

He turned his head to look at me and I found myself looking directly into his eyes, our faces only inches apart.

“Do you have a father?” he asked.

“What?” I asked, laughing a little at how surprising the question was, how unexpected.

“You never speak of one. You only speak of your mother.”

“You think I just sprung out of the ground?” I teased. “A little gift from Kakkari?”

He growled, leaning forward to nip my fingers in frustration. I chuckled, my belly swarming again.

He elaborated his question by commenting, “I had heard that the old Earth colonies, before they were destroyed, had the ability to create offspring without a father. Just a mother.”

“Oh,” I said. “Yes, but it was long ago. And for your information, I was created the old-fashioned way.”

He shook his head, grumbling something in Dakkari at my teasings.

I sobered a little.

“My father died a long time ago,” I told him. “Even before my brother was born. He got sick and it took him quickly. I was four at the time, so I hardly remember him. Mostly, I just have these vague impressions or memories. My mother never wanted to talk about him. I think she never stopped mourning him and not remembering made it easier to move on.”

I used to think about my father a lot when I was little, how different life at the village might be. When my mother was alive, she struggled to have her voice heard. As a female, with two small children, the village council, Polin included, had never taken her seriously. It had always angered me, watching her get dismissed.

“What were your parents like?” I asked, curious. “Were you happy as a child before…before the Ghertun attack?”

“Lysi,” he murmured. “I was.”

I nodded, glad.

“Dakkari are not shy about showing their offspring their affection,” he told me. “They showed me every moment. My mother was gentle, yet strong. My father was everything I wanted to be. He would train me himself, even in Dothik. He wanted me to be strong because he told me that one day, I would need to protect my mother, my queen, and my daughters.”

My breath hitched and emotion welled in my chest at his words.

“He could be hard,” he continued. “But his lessons, not only during trainings, have directed my life. The memory of them have led me to this. I have felt both of their presence, their guiding hand, in every action I have taken. For that, I am grateful.” He met my gaze again. “I felt them when I saw you. Their force and Kakkari’s force led me to you. They knew that I needed you.”

My lips parted, my heart throbbing.

He was just…so wonderful.

Overwhelmed, I didn’t know what to say, so I simply leaned forward and gave him a soft kiss. He breathed me in deep and shifted, so I laid more comfortably in his arms.

When we pulled apart, I whispered, almost shyly, “I’m glad they did. I’m glad they led you to me.”

Because it was becoming obvious to me that I was falling in love with my horde king. I’d fought it at first, but the past few days had only intensified my budding feelings, had only proven to me that somehow, some way, I’d been given a gift.

A precious gift. One I had never expected.

But Arokan was real. He was right there, pressed against me, whispering sweet things that made my spine tingle.

He was offering me everything.

Yet, I was holding back.

Why?

Was it because of my brother and his uncertain future? Was it because nothing in my life had gone as planned or because Arokan seemed too good to be true and I distrusted that? Was it my doubts and fears and insecurities about leading the horde that continued to plague my every step?

It was everything.

And until the answers to those questions became clear, I couldn’t give him everything in return.

I just hoped it wouldn’t destroy us both in the process.