“It seems you are feeling much better this day, kalles,” he finally rasped, something entirely different in his voice. Sucking in a sharp breath through my nostrils, I felt dread pool in my belly when he maneuvered our position, dragging my legs apart wider with his own, using his strong, flexible tail to wrap around my arms, holding them in place. I felt cool air rush over my sex and when I glanced down, I saw my skirt was barely concealing me. “Let us forget about the food then.”
I made an alarmed, muffled sound when his other hand came to cup my exposed sex. Biting my lip, I resumed my struggles when one of his fingers stroked over my slit, teasing the flesh.
I was all too aware that he still held the dried meat in his other hand, hovering just on the edge of my vision. The battle wasn’t over, he was just employing very different methods than before. That frustrated me, made me desperate to get away.
“Lysi,” he hissed, “you are making me ache, kalles.”
Stop, I screamed in my mind, please stop!
But he continued to slowly, almost languidly, stroke me between my thighs. He found my clit, pressing and rolling it with the rough pad of his finger.
And goddess help me…I felt my treacherous body responding to his surprisingly gentle, expert, exploring touch.
No, no, no!
Whimpering, I resumed my struggles tenfold, trying to scratch at his legs like a caged animal, muffled noises emerging from my throat.
But he never stopped. And I never gave in.
Soon, panic sank into my gut, my breathing going ragged, trying to fight against the heady pleasure that was building between my thighs.
In my ear, he rasped, “You are growing hot for me, kalles.” A dark chortle came next and I felt my cheeks heat with humiliation, with shame. “Vok, you need this. I need this too, kassikari.”
It was building and building, the heat growing hotter and hotter. I feared what would happen next.
Finally, desperate, I pleaded, “Stop.”
“What, kalles? I did not hear you.”
“Please, st—”
He shoved the piece of dried meat between my open lips.
Disbelief shot through me but before he could clamp my mouth together, I spit it out, though the delicious flavor burst on my tongue, making my stomach cramp with even more hunger. But I was used to it.
The horde king growled in dark frustration and, to my surprise, released me entirely, pushing me forward so he could stand.
The pins in my hair had fallen out, all of Lavi’s hard work destroyed, and I pushed back a tendril of escaped hair when I looked up at him, stunned. His expression was thunderous, though his cock tented the cloth covering him. Behind him, his tail flicked dangerously, back and forth. He was so large, he seemed to take up all the space in the palatial tent.
“Go hungry then, kalles. It is your choice,” he rasped. “Rest today. Because when I return tonight, I will have what you promised to me. It is obvious you have recovered your strength and I will not wait another night to claim your cunt.”
Glaring up at him, I felt my heart racing in my throat.
The horde king turned and stalked out of the tent, letting in a brief, blinding chunk of sunlight, before it closed. Then it was dark once more. Outside, I heard him bark something in Dakkari before his footsteps retreated.
Alone, I stared at the cold food on the low table in disbelief, at the dried meat I’d spit out, which had landed on the plush rug. Slowly, I picked it up and placed it back in the bowl.
My body was still humming from his touch. My body felt like a stranger’s.
I may have won that battle between us, but I felt like I’d won nothing at all.
Chapter Seven
Later that night, Mirari and Lavi prepared me for the inevitable.
They bathed me again, though I’d protested that I was clean. Naturally, Mirari insisted, saying that all the horde bathed daily, which seemed like a great waste to me.
After my bath, they dressed me in the night dress the horde king had given me, which had already been cleaned, though my old clothes still had not been returned to me.
The piki brushed my hair until it fell in softened waves down my back and lit the wax candles and fragrant oil pots to burn for the remainder of the night. The tent was cast in a golden light, the gentle flames flickering and swaying.
When they finally left, Mirari took the tray of food she’d brought that morning with her, casting a frown over it, obviously inspecting it to see if it’d been touched. Ever since they returned that afternoon, she’d been pressing me to eat, telling me how pleased the Vorakkar would be if I did.
Wisely, I’d held my tongue and eventually, she’d stopped pressing, though every time my stomach growled and she cast me a speculative, hopeful look, it made me blush.
I was alone then, clean, practically naked, sitting on the edge of the bed facing the tent’s entrance. I’d decided that afternoon that I needed to be brave, that this was the cost I’d willingly paid. The horde king wanted me in his bed and I would be. My brother was alive because of his mercy and while he couldn’t make me eat…he could make me do this.
It didn’t matter that my stomach was in knots—and not just because of my hunger. It didn’t matter that I worried he would tear me in two or that he would be rough. It didn’t matter that I was a virgin, inexperienced with males and sex.
I’d made a deal with the Dakkari devil and I would hold up my end.
Heavy footsteps approached the tent and I sucked in a breath. I heard him, his unmistakable deep voice speaking in Dakkari to the guards stationed at the entrance. After a moment, I heard their footsteps retreat, dismissed from their duties for the night and my spine straightened, my heart tripling its beat in my breast.
There was silence for a moment, as I waited for him to enter. But he took his time, as if composing himself, before he suddenly ducked inside.
Across the tent, his eyes found mine, his yellow irises contracting and then widening. He straightened to his full height, swallowing the space with his broad shoulders and massive bulk.
Gone was his anger from earlier that day, I noticed. It had been replaced by desire, by lust, the same expression on his face that he’d had when he’d cut open my cloak in my village.
I’d been right. For some strange reason, the horde king wanted me. I didn’t know why.
My nipples pebbled tighter underneath the transparent shift, but thankfully my long hair covered them. Warily, I watched him as one might a predatory beast, studying him for a weakness. His hair was plaited down his back, his skin looked even more honeyed from his day in the sun, with a slight shimmer of sweat gleaming on his bare chest, though the star had long set. Not for the first time, I wondered what his duties were during the day, when he wasn’t patrolling the lands of Dakkar.
His hands went to the gold belt at his hips, which he unclasped. With it went the piece of cloth that shielded his sex. He dropped it to the floor of the tent with a small thud and then he was naked, his cock already hard, his dusky, dark sack hanging low beneath it.
I sucked in a small breath when he approached, my hands twitching against my legs. I’d had Mirari smear some of the healing salve on my thighs after all, since it was obvious I wouldn’t be able to rebuff the horde king’s attentions after all. It had helped take the stinging pain away, which I was begrudgingly thankful for. It would make this easier.