Captive of the Horde King by Zoey Draven

Chapter Two

The horde king wanted me to take off my hood?

I didn’t hesitate, though Kivan began to protest. Anything to save him, to take the attention away from him, I would do readily.

The horde king’s nostrils flared and the singular yellow ring of his irises contracted with a visible pulse when I pushed back the thick hood, letting it settle around my shoulders.

My chin lifted, meeting his gaze, though he towered over me.

“Brave kalles,” the horde king murmured and I could actually see the way his pupils studied me, how they shifted over my face. “Foolish kalles too.”

I stiffened at the slight insult. I assumed kalles meant ‘woman’ or ‘female’ in the Dakkari language. Either way, it set my teeth on edge.

My spine went taut like a bow string, all too aware that Kivan still remained within the circle of gold swords, in front of a horde king that wanted his blood in exchange for burning their land.

“Call me what you wish,” I said, the cool night air brushing my face like a soft touch. “But my brother’s life is not yours to take. I will not let you.”

The Dakkari surrounding us shifted, the movement hardly perceptible, ever so slight.

As for the horde king…he didn’t even twitch.

“Let me, kalles?” he repeated, his voice sharp. “I will do whatever I wish.”

Perhaps that had been the wrong thing to say.

“Please,” I said, my hands trembling from adrenaline and nerves. The yellow band around his pupils contracted again, his head cocking slightly to the side. “Take my life in exchange.”

“Luna—,” Kivan tried to cut in, but I pushed him back when he made to grab for my arms.

“I am responsible for my brother,” I rushed out, “and therefore I am responsible for his actions. Please. He is young. He will never do this again. I promise.” Even though we were only five years apart, sometimes I felt ten or twenty years older than Kivan. “Take me instead.”

“Luna, no!” Kivan growled, frustrated, swinging on the horde king. “Don’t listen to her.”

But the horde king never took his eyes from me. I felt trapped by them, like I could never look away.

The messenger beside the horde king addressed him in a low tone with, “Vorakkar, kivi nekkari dothanu un kevf?”

The horde king didn’t respond immediately to whatever the messenger asked. As the moments stretched on, my blood grew hotter and raced faster until I heard it rushing in my ears. Still, we watched one another, as I wondered what he would decide.

Because I knew his words to be true…he could do whatever he wished. The Dakkari had the authority and power and strength over any being that found a home on their planet, however unforgiving that home might be. It was the deal the Uranian Federation had made with the Dakkari, for access to their closed planet.

“Vorakkar,” the messenger repeated after a long moment.

I stiffened when the horde king stepped forward. In one fluid motion, he unsheathed a small dagger from the thick band around his waist. His movements were surprisingly graceful, smooth, and yet still impatient as he gripped my cloak.

I didn’t have time to feel fear—for surely he meant to end my life, as I’d requested—before that dagger dragged down with one quick motion.

Instead of pain, I felt cool air shift across my skin. He’d cut the front of my cloak and he pulled the sides away for a better glimpse…of my body. Humiliation, or perhaps relief, made my cheeks hot as I realized what he was doing, even with my nonexistent experience with males.

Kivan, however, didn’t seem to know since he demanded, his voice surprisingly outraged in front of the Dakkari, “What are you doing to her?”

The horde king didn’t answer him. It was as if Kivan didn’t even exist in his world. Though I was wearing old, worn pants and a dirt-smudged tunic underneath the cloak, the way he looked at me…I felt naked under his gaze, bared for him, as if he could see every inch of my flesh.

Outrage slowly began to burn in my belly, but I kept it leashed within. He was inspecting me like I was something to be bought at the marketplace, a new tunic or a shiny bauble.

“Kassikari,” the horde king said suddenly. His tone was low, the words like a rough caress across my flesh. My eyes flashed up to his, surprised by something I heard in his voice, though I couldn’t identify what. I found he wasn’t looking down at my body any longer, but at me.

The tension in the circle suddenly doubled, the Dakkari males straightening even further, their golden swords dipping.

The messenger said, “Vorakkar? Erun kalles nekkar?”

“Lysi,” the horde king replied. The gold beads in his hair clinked together when he tilted his head. Addressing me in the universal tongue, he asked, “You wish to offer your life in exchange for your brother’s offense?”

I was proud my voice didn’t tremble as I said, “I do.”

“You are willing to die for him?” he asked next.

The memory of my mother’s last moments, begging me to protect Kivan, even as she choked on her own blood—so red it looked black on the ice—made my voice hoarse as I said, “I am.”

“Luna, no—”

“If I decide not to end your life or your brother’s,” the horde king murmured lowly, his gaze dropping down to my body again, his voice deepening even more, “will you serve me, kalles?”

There was no mistaking the meaning behind his words or the way his eyes roamed over the modest curves of my body. Goosebumps broke out over my flesh as I whispered, “Serve you?”

“Lysi,” he rasped.

He wanted me as his whore, wanted me to warm his bed, wanted to use my body for his pleasure…in exchange for my brother’s life.

There was no choice. I’d already made up my mind before they’d entered the village gates. This had always been the second possibility.

Dread swarmed in my belly. I felt like I was floating outside my body as I whispered, numb, “I will.”

Movement behind me made the horde king’s gaze snap away. Before I realized what had happened, Kivan had yanked one of the gold swords from one of the Dakkari’s grip and pushed me aside, his sudden strength surprising. But the sword was too heavy for him, sagging in both hands, even as he tried to swing it at the horde king, who easily dodged the clumsy maneuver.

Horror filled me. I cried out, “Kivan, stop!”

Fool, fool, fool! Surely they would kill him now.

“Nik, pyroth!” the horde king ordered his Dakkari when they raised their weapons. They halted immediately, though they didn’t lower them, just simply stopped their advance. The horde king’s hand flashed out, gripping the sword by the edge and he flung it out of my brother’s grasp with ease. He seemed to grow in size, his expression darkening, my brother’s actions yet again an insult to the Dakkari.

I swung on the horde king, stepping between them, holding my hands out in supplication. “P-please. I will go with you now. Please just do not…do not hurt him.”

His nostrils flared wide, but at least his attention was on me, not on my brother.

“Please,” I begged and I had never begged before in my life. I had no pride when it came to my brother, the only family I had left. “Please. Just take me. I promise I will serve you. I will do whatever you want, just do not hurt him.”

Long moments of thick tension lapsed. Even the Dakkari males seemed to wait for their horde king’s decision with bated breath.

He finally growled, “We ride out now.”

Relief made me sag, but my reprieve was short.

In one swift movement, all the Dakkari sheathed their gold blades as the horde king turned back towards the entrance. My lips parted when I saw the scars across his back, as if he’d been whipped. Brutally.

“Come now,” he barked over his shoulder and halted, waiting for me.

Kivan stood, still encircled by the Dakkari, frozen from shock, fear, disbelief. I went to him, embracing him, which I never did.

Softly, I whispered, “I will see you again. I promise.”

His arms were still at his sides. He didn’t want to accept this, but I wished he would return my embrace.

“Come,” the horde king commanded again. My heart squeezed in my chest, tears burning my eyes, but I refused to let them fall.

“Go inside,” I said finally, pulling back. “Be safe, Kivan.”

I looked at him, one last time, saw that his pupils were dilated, his face pale. He was in shock. I turned away before I started crying. I had to be strong now. For him. And for myself.

Halting just behind the horde king, I saw him look at me before ordering, “Vir drak!”

His Dakkari fell away from Kivan, the messenger falling into place beside him. We walked down the village road, their footsteps vibrating the ground beneath me. In a state of shock, I followed, clutching my ripped cloak around me, as if it would protect me like a shield from what was happening. I caught sight of a few faces peeking out from windows of homes we passed, usually small children before their mothers ripped them away. Otherwise, the village was drenched in night and darkness.

The entrance of the village, the only place I’d ever known, was in sight. I saw Polin standing there, watching with narrowed eyes. That was when I heard Kivan shout, “Luna! Luna, no!”

I looked over my shoulder, saw my brother running towards the Dakkari. Looking back to Polin, I pleaded, “Take him! Take him away!”

Polin didn’t move.

Desperation rose in my throat and I cried out, “You owe me, Polin. You owe it to me! Now take him back inside!”

Something came over Polin’s face. The horde never stopped moving, despite my outburst, despite the horde king looking back at me with an unreadable expression in those yellow-rimmed eyes.

Finally, Polin slid past the Dakkari, careful not to step in their path, and moved to intercept Kivan. Despite Polin’s age, he was still stronger and larger than my brother and managed to hold him back. I heard my brother’s struggles, however, the way he called after me, his voice clogged with tears and fury and sadness. It would always haunt me, I knew.

The entrance gates creaked open when the messenger pushed them aside roughly. And waiting at the entrance were the black-scaled beasts of my nightmares.

The Dakkari slid around me, each going to their respective monster, except for the horde king. He appeared at my side, grasping me around my waist and leading me over to the only creature that remained without a rider.

I knew it was his. It was by far the largest, most battle-worn beast of all of them. It was standing on all four of its legs, which were tipped in sharp, talon-like black claws. Its scales were painted in thin gold strips, looping up and around in the Dakkari way, similar to the tattoos adorning the horde king’s flesh. Also like its master, the beast had a plethora of scars—across its sides, the front of its legs, around its tall, thick neck.

And its eyes…they were red. A blood red. Like blood on ice. Like my mother’s blood.

Panic began to rise in my belly and I stumbled away from the beast, though the horde king’s chest prevented me from going anywhere. He stood behind me, a wall of unmovable strength.

He didn’t give me a choice. He gripped me around my waist, hauled me up high like I weighed nothing, and settled me on the back of the monster, my legs dangling over both sides of its massive, cold body.

It felt like a rock underneath me and when it shifted on its feet, I felt its tendons and muscles flex too. When I started to slide off, I placed my hands at the base of its neck, though the cool touch of its scales made me want to recoil in horror.

The horde king swung up behind me a moment later, not allowing me time to adjust. He scooted forward, until I was wedged between his strong thighs, until his groin was pressed against my lower back. The heat of him and how much stronger he was than I registered.

Strong, tanned hands appeared in front of me, grasping onto the thin, gold, metal chains that secured around the beast’s snout, looping up around its neck. The horde king fisted them in one hand and used the other to press against my belly, anchoring me to him.

I refused to cry out when he made a sound in the back of his throat, which set the beast into motion. Swallowing my panic, I held on as best as I could as it jolted in a high-speed run. I felt the horde king’s thighs tense around me, bracing, obviously comfortable being on the back of it.

But I was not. I didn’t think I ever would be.

That hand pressed tighter into my belly. It was so large that I felt it span across my ribs. I knew it wouldn’t be the last time those hands were on me.

My face burned, my throat tightened. I stared at the empty darkness of Dakkar in front of me, framed by the beast’s long, pointed ears, at the empty, wild lands beyond my village that not many dared to venture into.

What had I done? What would my life be like from this moment forward?

I’d sold myself to a horde king of Dakkar to save my brother’s life. I’d sold myself to a horde king to serve him…as his human whore.

That knowledge sunk in.

It sunk in deep and festered.