Throne of the Horde King, page 22
A shuddered sigh escaped my throat, and he stole my breath. Maybe this was his answer. Maybe he’d just needed time to think it over. Maybe he would give me what I wanted.
My hands drifted down his shoulders, skimming along the wide berth of his chest. I wanted him. Even in my anger, I wanted him. How was that possible?
A strangled growl left his throat when my hands settled on the thick heat of his cock. I cupped the outline of him through his trews, squeezing, and then—
Arik tore himself away.
One moment he was as close as he could possibly be. The next, he was putting space between us as cool air rushed in where he’d been.
He was huffing, panting. So was I. With kiss-stung lips, I watched as he ran a hand over his jaw, scrubbing over a scar there. His eyes were wild. His shoulders rose and lowered with heavy breaths.
I simply stood there. My skin was tingling. My fingers were still curled from how they’d wrapped around his cock. The taste of him was on my tongue. I wanted to kiss him again, but I also never wanted to touch him again. Two feelings that were completely at odds with one another.
Strangled disappointment crashed over me. I felt like I was sinking into the lake again, thrashing my legs, desperately trying to surface.
He was doing it again.
And like a fool, I’d let him.
Strangely, I wasn’t as furious about it as I thought I’d be. Instead, acceptance slid into me, quelling the disappointment with realization.
“I know what I want, but you don’t know what you want, Arik,” I said softly, bending down to pick up my brush with trembling fingers. Still, my voice was strong. For that I was proud. When I straightened, I met his gaze. “Until you do, I’m not doing this anymore. We can still be friends, but just…just don’t touch me anymore, lysi? It’s not fair. You’re not being fair to me.”
His eyes closed tightly at my declaration. Before my eyes, I watched as he struggled to gain control over himself, something I didn’t think he showed anyone. I watched as he pulled himself together, piece by piece, straightening imperceptibly to his full height, smoothing the lines over his features, running a hand down his face once as if to reset his expression.
“Let’s just forget about the lake,” I said quietly, wiping the back of my hand across my lips. “Let’s just forget about this. You may want me like you say but, for whatever reason, not enough to change your mind. This will be easier for us both. And I promise I won’t touch you either. I won’t.”
His swallow was audible. When he finally met my eyes across the room, they looked more red than swirled. A shiver raced down my spine at the sight of them. For a moment, he looked like someone else entirely, someone who looked familiar, though I couldn’t quite place who.
“And what of your desire to be with a male before you return to the temple?” came his roughened voice. He might have schooled his expression into impassiveness, but he couldn’t change his voice.
I hesitated. Turning from him, I went to the chest that was sitting on the table, where it’d been when I arrived. Replacing the brush carefully, I murmured, “I will return to the North Lands when I’m ready to. For thirty years, the orala sa’kilan was all I knew. I’m in no rush to return, though I know that I will eventually.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
A burn of anger sparked in my chest.
“It means that I have the time to find another male,” I told him, facing him. “Someone who wants what I want.”
The words were a trigger, and Arik of Rath Serok suddenly loomed before me, his expression no longer indifferent but furious.
Nik, not furious, I realized, swallowing.
Jealous.
Which only confused me more as I clutched my hands on the table behind me. Arik pressed me into it, the edge against my spine, until his arms were bracketed around me.
“You think so, saila?” he purred. He wasn’t touching me, I realized. Not at all. Doing what I asked of him, but it was still entirely too much. “If you think I’ll let that happen, then you truly have no idea who you’re dealing with. Who you’re trying to provoke.”
My brow furrowed, and I scowled. “I’m not provoking you, Serok.”
I swore I caught a small flinch at the sound of his name—his family name, his horde’s name, but not his name.
“I’m not provoking you at all,” I told him softly, meeting his eyes. “But you can’t give me what I want. That’s a fact.”
His jaw tightened, and it only made his expression all the more fierce.
“I even understand. You have a duty to your horde. To Dakkar. To the oath you took as a Vorakkar. The last thing you need is for someone to distract you,” I said, a sinking sensation in my belly when I realized something. “To make even more demands of you. Especially with the fog looming in the East.”
Had I been doing that without realizing it? Pressuring him toward something he would rather not give? He might want me—the evidence pressed against me earlier was illuminating enough—but it didn’t mean he wanted to act on it.
With the exception of the lake, I couldn’t help but think.
But his anger was still written on his face. If anything, my words seemed to infuriate him more.
“If you think to control me with jealousy, I will not take kindly to it,” he hissed, glaring at me. “Other females have tried before, and they never got what they wanted. So don’t even try it, Kara. I’m warning you now.”
What other females?
I shouldn’t have said anything, I thought, blowing out a small breath.
“You have nothing to worry about,” I assured him. Something flashed through his eyes. He blinked, calming briefly. Trying to read me? “I’m not trying to do anything, much less control you.”
That was the truth.
Sex isn’t the most important thing right now, I chastised myself silently. The fog and the heartstones were, however. We would deal with that before I turned my attentions to anything else. That was how it should’ve been from the very beginning.
I’d just gotten a little caught up in Arik. In the surprising, alarming, deep attraction I had toward him.
But no more, I decided resolutely. We had a task to finish. Laid out before us. That was what was important.
Quickly, I ducked under his arm to escape him and then went to the door. I was tired. I wanted sleep.
When I opened the door for him, I felt a warm breeze rush in, rustling my dress around my ankles. The warm season was upon us. It felt so wonderful. The deeper we’d traveled inland, the warmer it had become. I wondered if the Sorakkar of Rath Hidri would let me live in his saruk for a brief time once the fog was gone. I thought I’d enjoy living here for a spell before returning to the temple.
Maybe…maybe I could even split my time between the two places. Maybe that would be an option available to me. A way for me to be with Kalloma and the kalliris, while also having my own freedom.
“I’ll speak with the Arakkari tomorrow,” I said, distracted by the hopeful, dizzying thought. The Arakkari was the queen of the saruk. When I refocused on him, I felt…in control. I actually felt much better now than I did when Arik first entered. His palms were still flattened on the table as he turned his head to regard me, his brow furrowed, darkening his eyes. He watched me. I said, “But I’d like to sleep now. So you’ll need to leave.”
His nostrils flared. Slowly, I watched as he pushed up from the table, straightening. His boots were a whisper across the stone floor as he approached.
“You’re breaking my heart, saila,” he murmured, and I blinked, frowning, surprised by the words. “Ever since the North Lands, we’ve never slept apart. Have you realized that?”
Ah.
Now I wasn’t so surprised.
Arik was deflecting.
This was his offhand comment, the one meant to disarm me, to rattle me.
“You lived your entire life without me sleeping next to you,” I replied, looking into his eyes. I saw his pupils dilate before contracting on me. “I trust that your heart will survive it.”
Because you don’t have a heart to break, I thought. Hadn’t I thought that before? Back at the orala sa’kilan? Perhaps I should’ve listened to my own instincts when it came to Arik.
Nik. He did have a heart. He just had a thick Dakkari-steel wall around it. I wondered why. Because of his friend? The one in Dothik he’d told me about?
Or was it more?
A rough breath escaped his lips. Looking up at his handsome face, a fierce longing went through me, but it was met with disappointment. He wasn’t mine. He never had been. Soon, simply looking at him would stop making me ache. Soon.
Not soon enough though.
“Good night, Vorakkar,” I said firmly.
Then I nudged him out the door before he could say another word.
And this time, I locked the latch behind him.
Chapter 33
“You’re looking for Ojak?” the mrikro asked, keeping his gaze pinned to the notch of my throne, not meeting my eyes.
“Lysi,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. “I’d ask your Sorakkar, but I cannot seem to find him this morning.”
“He’s…” The mrikro trailed off but then shrugged, his gaze darting to the line of the forest that the saruk lay next to. This was the woodland area of the West Lands. Lakes and forests littered this place. “Ojak should be working with the darukkars. You’ll find him over there.”
He gestured to the northern end of the saruk, and I inclined my head in a nod. “Kakkira vor.”
When I turned, I heard a quick, chuffing sound from his throat, as if he meant to speak but stopped himself at the last moment. Looking over my shoulder at him, I quirked a brow. “Lysi?”
The mrikro met my gaze briefly in his embarrassment. “Are you…are you…”
He stopped. His swallow was audible.
Then he said, “For the glory of Dakkar.”
My nostrils flared, and I watched as he scuttled away, back into the pyroki enclosure. The saruks didn’t have as many pyrokis as the hordes did. There was no need to keep so many creatures. Still, it was a high-ranking job in a saruk, caring for the beasts that allowed the strength of the hordes to continue.
For the glory of Dakkar.
Not for the glory of Dothik.
Ojak’s influence had obviously begun to take root. The mrikro knew who I was.
I didn’t know how to feel about that. Kara’s words returned to me from last night. I know what I want, but you do not know what you want, Arik.
She’d never been more right about anything. Once, I thought I knew what I wanted. I had felt my hatred propel me toward action. I had felt that drive settle deep in my bones and burn there.
Once, I wanted to tear the whole of Dothik down. Then I wanted to remake it. But most importantly, I wanted the Dothikkar gone from the throne. For years, I had planned to assassinate him myself. We had constructed plan after plan, all viable though risky.
And then, one day, I woke up and told myself enough. I had worn my hatred and my anger and my grief for so long that I realized it had begun to rival my mother’s. That I never wanted to happen.
But I had many relying on me. I had many believing in me. Who had given their lives to see one thing and one thing only.
Me. On the throne in Dothik.
Now, as I watched a mrikro shovel pyroki shit into a corner, it hit me square in the chest how far I’d strayed from that end goal.
Even Nassik had been surprised when I announced I was entering the Trials. Nassik, who knew me best. Who’d known me almost my entire life. Who knew me longer than my own mother, even.
My feet carried me toward the northern end of the saruk. Males, females, and children alike literally stopped in their tracks when they saw me near. Staring, though when I looked at them, their gazes darted away. Save for a few of the bolder females, who kept my gaze not long enough for it to be considered disrespectful but long enough for me to see their interest.
An impatient huff whistled through my nostrils. Since when had the attentions of beautiful females begun to irritate me?
Never. Not until Kara.
The ringing of swords alerted me to the fact that I neared the training grounds. And I saw Ojak almost immediately, a genuine grin sliding over my face as I listened to him shouting at one of the younger darukkars, critiquing his form.
“If you don’t move your damn feet, I’ll cut them off you!” he shouted, the words hostile though his tone was almost…bored.
He was standing at the fence, his arms leaning against the rails. As he was distracted by the darukkars, his eyes quickly darting as they ran through their practice spar, I sidled up next to him.
His head turned, his gaze catching on my tunic before he dismissed me, thinking me a member of the saruk. Then he did a double take.
When his gaze connected with mine, I grinned at him. “Still using the same threats, I see? I seem to remember you saying you’d cut off my arm if I didn’t wield my sword at the correct height.”
A boisterous laugh bellowed from his wide chest. “Serok.”
His hard embrace was familiar. The responding fist pound against my back was comforting.
“I heard a Vorakkar had come in the night,” he said in my ear. When he pulled back he was smiling, his eyes crinkling with the expression. “I did not think it was you.”
“I thought so,” I told him. “Because if you had, I’m certain you would’ve been banging on my door while I tried to sleep.”
“Bekkar’s sword,” he breathed, pulling back to look at me. We were quiet for a moment as we regarded one another, a comfortable familiarity spreading between us even though it had been nearly two years since we’d seen one another. “I cannot believe you’re standing in front of me right now. I—I cannot believe that you’re here. But why are you here?”
“The heartstones. They believe they can be used to stop the fog in the East.”
Ojak nodded thoughtfully, blinking as he processed the information. His head turned, and he scowled at the two young darukkars, likely training for a future in a horde, and yelled, “Did I tell you to stop?”
Immediately, the two males began sparring once more, though their movements seemed stiff and I caught their gazes tracking to me every now and again behind Ojak’s back.
“How’s Wreika?” I asked. “And your daughters?”
The reason Ojak had left Dothik in the first place. There were some that viewed his leaving as a betrayal, but I knew better. He hadn’t needed my blessing to leave, but he had wanted it. His wife’s health was abysmal in the capital. When she fell pregnant with their second child, Ojak had feared that her strength would fail her.
And so, he’d brought her back to her roots, back to this saruk. Ojak was Dothik born and bred. But not the female he’d fallen in love with.
“Well,” he told me. “Very well. Her cough went away. She is strong here, as if she is connected to this land, like so many wildlanders are. And we are happy. Life is…different. Different but good.”
I inclined my head. I knew the guilt Ojak had carried with him from Dothik. I hadn’t wanted him to bear it. But after Bodin, he had always felt partially responsible for his death. Adding that onto his decision to leave the capital, he’d been…changed.
“I’m glad to hear it, my friend.”
His gaze went behind me, scanning the clearing. “I heard the Vorakkar came with a female.”
Swallowing, I told him, “She is with the Arakkari.” The image of her in her night shift from last night returned to me. So achingly lovely that I’d felt something crack in my chest. At his pointed look, I chuckled, scrubbing a hand at the back of my neck, and said, “She is…well, she’s the daughter of a kalliri. The Seta Kalliri.”
“Vok,” Ojak said slowly. “I heard she was a hybrid female. Human and Dakkari. Did the Seta Kalliri really—”
I laughed. “Nik. Her mother brought her to the temple seeking safety for her when she was an infant. She was raised there. The Seta Kalliri raised her as her own.”
Ojak pinned me with a thoughtful look. “You never went about things easily, did you, Serok?”
I sobered at the words. Ojak had always been annoyingly perceptive. It was what had made him a good spy, even though he never blended into crowds as well as Kalik or Vala.
“You are good here?” I asked him pointedly. “Do you need anything? Tell me, and it’s yours.”
He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “There is no use for gold here. You know that, Serok. We have everything we need.”
I nodded.
“But kakkira vor for the offer,” he continued. “I know I can come to you if I do ever need anything.”
Satisfied, I reached out to squeeze his shoulder, tight and unyielding under my palm. “Or Wreika. Or your daughters,” I added.
“Is there anything you need?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.
My gaze slid to the line of the forest.
“I spoke to the Sorakkar last night,” I murmured to him quietly. He shifted, tilting his head in a way that exposed his ear toward me. Something that had never changed when we talked like this. “I got the impression that he didn’t want me here specifically. Does he know who I am?”
“He’s heard the rumors, no doubt,” Ojak said. “There are those within the saruk that know your name and who you are. But the Sorakkar…he is of the old way of the Vorakkar. He values strength and loyalty.” He tipped his head toward me. “As do you.”
“He wants me gone,” I informed him. “Though he took a liking to my female.”
I regretted the slip of tongue almost immediately. My female. Vok.
Ojak raised his brow but wisely didn’t comment on it. Though I caught the pleased smirk that threatened to break over his expression.
Then the smirk died slowly. His feet shifted toward me ever so slightly.
“He has a deal with the Killup.”
That was not what I expected him to say.
“Neffar?”
The Killup?
“He is expecting them back any moment and would rather not have you find out. That’s my best guess. He thinks all the Vorakkar are still loyal to the Dothikkar. If only he knew.”
