Home > Captive of the Horde King (Horde Kings Of Dakkar #1)(7)

Captive of the Horde King (Horde Kings Of Dakkar #1)(7)
Author: Zoey Draven

My eyes bulged. “But…but it’s…”

Not that it mattered. I was already naked in front of him. I had no dignity left, it seemed.

“Sleep bare then,” he said, with a shrug of his massive shoulders. “I would prefer it, kalles.”

That had me scrambling to pull it on over my head. I would take whatever I could get. Besides, it was clean and it was possibly the most luxurious item I’d ever felt against my skin. The material was so light it felt like air, so it wouldn’t rub against my raw skin.

Again, guilt swamped me. I shouldn’t appreciate these luxuries.

The horde king studied me though I avoided his gaze. Finally, he shifted to untie the laces of his pants, which looked to be made of the same material as the tent—tanned animal hide.

My alarmed eyes flashed up to his. “What are you doing?”

“I need to bathe after the journey,” he told me, stepping out of his pants until he was nude, except for the gold cuffs around his thick wrists. “You will wash me.”

My face burned with so much heat that I wondered if my eyeballs were red too. Actively, I avoided looking at his groin, keeping my eyes level with his neck.

But it was unavoidable. When he stepped into the bathing tub, I caught a glimpse and my mouth went as dry as the earth around our village.

He was massive. Long and thick, with a heavy, dusky, full sack swaying just below. There was a large bump just above the root of his base that protruded slightly, something human males didn’t have. And just like his body…he had two, intricate stripes of gold tattooed around his sex. One near the base of his cock and one just underneath the rounded head.

What made dread pool in my belly most was that he was erect. So hard that his cock bobbed against his taut abdomen when he stepped into the tub. I also caught a glimpse of his perfectly sculpted backside, at the strong tail that jutted out above his buttocks.

He groaned, the sound strangely erotic, when he leaned back, fully enveloped in the warm water. His eyes closed briefly, his arms coming to rest on the lip of the tub, the size of which was obviously meant for a Dakkari male, since he fit perfectly.

Despite the situation, despite what happened that night, and my pain and exhaustion from riding the pyroki…my heartbeat stuttered at the sensual sight of him.

I swallowed with difficulty, looking away, shame burning deep in my chest for finding him attractive. He’d almost killed my brother, had taken me as his whore. I needed to remember that.

His voice made me jump. “Bathe me, kalles. You promised you would serve me, did you not?”

Slowly, I knelt beside the tub, ignoring my aching soreness. I took up one of the washing cloths the Dakkari females had used on me, dipping it in the water quickly to wet it.

Then, taking a deep breath, I smoothed it over his skin, trying to copy the efficient motions the females had used on me. Otherwise, bathing him felt too…intimate.

So, with rough, quick circles, I washed his shoulders, his arms, cleaning away the dirt that had accumulated during our ride to the camp. His eyes remained closed, thankfully, and he remained still. It gave me the courage to wash below the water, to wipe across his chest, his abdomen. He lifted slightly so I could wash his back.

But washing below his waist seemed unavoidable once I’d finished.

He grunted lightly when I made one light pass over his cock. I bit my lip, looking away, and then blew out a silent breath of relief when I moved down to his long, muscular legs.

“Relax, kalles,” he murmured. When I chanced a look at him, I saw his eyes were on me, heavy lidded. “I will not fuck you this night.”

My body went tense at his words, though I also felt relieved that I’d escaped my ‘duties’ for that night. He said it so crudely, so matter-of-fact.

I’d always heard that the Dakkari were like barbarians, primitive beings that did nothing more than fuck and ride their beasts and wage war on unsuspecting settlements.

Something told me that I’d been fed untruths. At least partial ones. There was more to the Dakkari than the tall tales I’d heard since childhood, as evidenced by this very encampment, by the females and children that traveled with the hordes, by the gentle luxuries that the horde king seemed to enjoy. Nothing in that tent told me he was a primitive barbarian.

But still…

I did not know what prompted me to say it, but I told him, “Can you blame me? I’d expected to be rutted on the floor the moment you came inside. That was what I’d agreed to, was it not?”

I cursed myself once the words left my tongue.

He made a sound in the back of his throat. “Do not give me tempting ideas, kalles.”

That surprised me. He said it with no venom behind his words.

I moved onto washing his hair. It was surprisingly soft, though it looked coarse, and I threaded my soap-covered fingers through it, washing away the dirt. Once it was clean, the horde king did one final rinse and then stood from the tub, water sluicing off his body.

He looked down at me, his magnificent flesh on display, his cock still hard in front of me. And I kneeled before him, in my transparent shift.

His jaw ticked and he growled, looking away. He stepped out of the tub, calling out in Dakkari towards the entrance and I gasped when the same three males appeared, taking out the bathing tub so quickly, I didn’t even have time to shield my almost-nude body from them. Not that they looked. They kept their eyes averted.

The horde king had no hesitations about his own nudity and simply dried off with the same furs I had used before draping it over the back of a steel rack at the side of the tent.

When we were alone again, I stood, wrapping my arms around me to hide my modest breasts. My hair was wet, however, drenching the fabric as it dripped, and parts of the shift molded to my body.

I tensed when he approached me and despite the heat in the tent, I shivered, my nipples pebbling against my arm.

He unthreaded my arms, placing them at my sides, looking down the front of my body the same way he had at my village. Like he could see all of me. And I supposed he could.

Tension, at least on my part, thickened the air between us.

“I had intended to rut you on the floor this night like a beast,” he murmured suddenly. “I thought of nothing else as we rode.”

I inhaled a sharp breath.

“I will wait until you heal,” he finally said.

That…surprised me.

The way he was gazing at me…no male had ever looked at me like that before. And when he reached out a hand to touch me, in desperation, in a clumsy attempt to maintain some sort of distance between us, I hurriedly asked, “Do the Dakkari often take humans as their whores? I would think your own females would suffice for that purpose.”

The horde king stilled and my blood rushed in my ears, wondering if I’d gone too far.

Silence spread thin between us.

“You believe you will be my whore, kalles?” he finally asked.

Confusion made my brows furrow and I licked my lips as I said, “Isn’t that what you meant?”

The horde king grinned, though it was small and dark. Still, it made my breath hitch.

“Nik, you will not be my whore,” he rasped, his voice deepening. I gasped, my body going tight, when he brushed his fingertips over my pebbled nipple before thumbing it back and forth in a way that made my hands shake, the sensation foreign and new. “Nik, you will be my kassikari. You will be my Morakkari.”

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