Claimed by the Horde King (Horde Kings of Dakkar, #2)

by Zoey Draven

“Return to your wife, Vodan,” I rasped, turning from him, my voice husky from my thoughts. “Enjoy her warmth and think no more of this tonight.” “Then return to yours, Vorakkar,” my pujerak said, tilting his head toward my voliki. His eyes were watchful and knowing as he added, “Because that is what she will become, is it not?”

“Morakkari?” I asked softly, the strange word filtering over my tongue. I thought that, like kalles, Morakkari was a pretty word, one I liked. “My queen,” he told me. His voice went slightly lower as he added, “My wife.”

“You call me a demon,” he said quietly, “because you believe I’m stealing your soul away. But I already told you, Nelle, that if I’m a demon, then so are you. Because you’re stealing more of mine right at this moment.”

“I think I wish to keep you in my bed, thissie,” he rasped, his voice dark and rich. “I thought it was I warming you, but it was you warming me through the night.”

I gently reached for the pendant of the necklace he’d given me. They were Blue’s feathers. Cleaned and soft and shining. The bases of the whitened, pointed shafts were embedded in a spherical gold clasp, keeping them secured to the chain of the necklace.

“Because I saw you that first night in the woods outside your village. I saw the thissie feathers on your arrow and thought that you were very much like one. Watchful, rare, and beautiful.”

“Seerin,” I murmured softly to her. Under a dark sky and in the quietness of that cold night, I told her my name, which I had not spoken in a long time. Her eyes were capturing my soul even then, the little demon that she was. How much of it had she taken already? I rasped, my voice dark and low, “My name is Seerin of Rath Tuviri.”

“The Dakkari believe that starlings are powerful beings.” My hand paused on his chest, and I tilted my head, meeting his gaze. It was an unspoken invitation, one he answered with, “In the stars, you become everything.”

We stood staring at one another as my heartbeat tried to thud its way from my chest. “I cannot do this any longer, Nelle,” he rasped. “Do what?” I asked softly. “Stay away from you,” he rasped, raking a hand through his golden hair, his gaze flickering. I’d never seen him so…undone. So uncertain.

“I am yours, Nelle,” I rasped. She froze as a gust of wind whistled past us, rustling her braid. Then she turned in her seat until she met my eyes. “And you are mine,” I said. “You know this.”

A part of me felt like a fraud, carrying my goblet to a powerful horde king of Dakkar. Though I was dressed in a beautiful gown, I was nothing like those around me. A part of me knew I didn’t belong there. Then I saw Seerin. And even if I didn’t belong there, at the very least I knew I belonged to him.

“I’ll take your maybe, demon king,” I said softly to him. “Because maybe you’ll realize you can’t let me go. And maybe I’ll realize that I don’t want you to.”

“I’m not frightened, Seerin,” I whispered, remembering his question to me when we’d been out on the plains. “Not of this. But it’s all right if you are.” His eyes sharpened on me. I smiled, my body warm and tingling from the wine, as I teased, “I have courage enough for the both of us.”

“Lysi, kassikari,” I rasped, shuddering over her still. “Bnuru tei lilji rini, rei kalles.”

“So, perhaps you are wrong,” I said, clutching my bow tighter, lifting my chin. I wouldn’t be cowed by his threats. “One female’s will helped create this horde. A female who was not of an ancient line, who may not have seemed important to anyone. But she only needed to be important to one.” The Dothikkar. “You believe that I will destroy this horde? I’m almost flattered you think I have so much power.”

Softly, gently, he kissed every last inch of the old wounds I’d received on his order. And I knew what his kiss meant. What it was. It was an apology. It was his regret, his guilt.

“Is it always like this?” I whispered. I didn’t know what I was asking. I didn’t know whether I’d meant the sex…or something deeper. Or both. Seerin seemed to know, however. “Nik,” he said back. “This is you and me, Nelle.”

A horde was only as strong as its Vorakkar. And a Vorakkar was only as strong as his Morakkari.

I missed many things about my thissie. I missed her curious questions, the way her eyes lit up as she talked about crafting arrows, how she always waited for me so we could eat our evening meal together even if I returned late, how her breath hitched ever so slightly whenever we kissed.

“I would give up the horde for you,” I rasped. Her breath hitched, a stricken, stunned look on her face. “If that is what it takes, I will, Nelle. You would not be my Morakkari, but you would be my mate, my kassikari.”