Captive of the Horde King (Horde Kings Of Dakkar #1) - Zoey Draven Page 0,29

consequences of that be damned.

He watched me with thinly veiled suspicion as I removed the golden belt around his waist, only fumbling with the clasp for a brief moment, before letting it fall to the floor.

My cheeks heated a little as I untied the laces of his pants. Before I pushed the waistband down, however, he caught my wrists, his narrowed eyes on me as he rasped, “What are you doing, kalles?”

“Helping you,” I replied, disturbed by how much I liked his voice. It was rich and dark and deep. Sinful and decadent. “You need to bathe.”

His fingers gave my wrist a squeeze, like he didn’t trust my intentions, like a warning, before he released them.

Taking that as his answer, I pushed his pants down his long, thick legs, swallowing the lump in my throat when his cock made its appearance.

I turned to walk towards the bath and he followed, his heavy footsteps padding on the plush rugs spread across the floor. I prepared the wash cloth and soap as he got in and heard him hiss in satisfaction at the warmth.

I knelt by the side of the bathing tub and waited for the warm water to soften the blood and dirt coating his skin. Arokan’s eyes closed and I felt a twinge of strange compassion for him. What Mirari had said, about the Ghertun, had surprised me. It made my thoughts about the Dakkari shift ever so slightly. It was obvious that he wanted to protect his horde, his people…that he would do whatever it took to keep them safe. How could I judge him for that?

“Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving?” I asked softly.

His eyes opened and he regarded me carefully. “Would you have cared?”

“At the time…” I said and then decided to answer honestly, “I don’t know. We were both angry before you left.”

Arokan made a sound in the back of his throat, an acknowledgment. The water trickled when he lifted his arms, scooping it up to wet his shoulders and upper chest.

“Mirari told me about the Ghertun,” I said, my eyes going to his throat, at the little knick there scabbed over with blood. “I had no idea that there are beings like that living on Dakkar.”

“I have seen some humans do worse things than the Ghertun,” Arokan said. “I have seen Killap and Nrunteng do worse things too. And Dakkari. Beings like that have always lived here.”

The Killap and the Nrunteng were other races that had arrived on Dakkar, the same time around humans, though I’d never seen one. Their settlements were further to the east.

“Still,” he continued, “as a race, the Ghertun are the most dangerous. Dakkari, humans, Killap, and Nrunteng? Their dangerous ones are outliers.”

“I’m assuming you found the pack you were looking for,” I commented, my eyes trailing his flesh. The blood had just started to soften, so I dipped my wash cloth into the water, soaking it.

“Lysi,” was all he said.

Smoothing the cloth over his forearm, I focused on scrubbing the grime away as I said, “Next time, I would like to hear about your leaving from you. Not Mirari.”

Arokan stilled, his eyes cutting to me, glinting like ice. “Neffar?”

I ignored his word, focusing on cleaning his skin. But Arokan wasn’t to be denied for long, because he caught my hand, tearing the wash cloth away, before tilting my chin up to look at him.

“Neffar?”

I assumed, by his tone, neffar meant something like what.

Taking a deep breath, I said, “I don’t like being kept in the dark.”

Arokan was studying me, those yellow-rimmed eyes darting back and forth between mine, as if I’d asked him a riddle and he was trying to decipher the answer.

“I will tell you next time,” he finally said, dropping my chin, his gaze turning away.

I nodded, snagging the wash cloth again. “Thank you.”

“Have you eaten?” he asked next.

“Broth,” I answered.

He shook his head, muttering something in Dakkari. “You need meat. You cannot survive on broth.”

“I have for a long time,” I informed him.

A sharp breath through his nostrils told me he was frustrated. Probably tired too. I wondered if he’d slept since he’d left.

We lapsed into silence again as I washed him. Once his arms were clean, I moved to his chest, where a thick coat of blood remained just above his right pectoral muscle.

However, as I washed the area, noticing that Arokan stiffened, I gasped, seeing that the blood surrounding it wasn’t Ghertun blood, it was his own. Underneath the crusted blood was a