Claimed by the Horde King (Horde Kings of Dakkar Book 2) Read online

  Claimed by the Horde King

  Horde Kings of Dakkar - Book Two

  Zoey Draven

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, places, or persons are purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Stock Art: Depositphotos

  Header Images: Depositphotos

  Cover Design: Zoey Draven

  Copyright © 2019 Zoey Draven

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Epilogue

  Bonus Epilogue

  More from Zoey

  Thank You!

  About the Author

  Prologue

  I watched her in the darkness. She was small, sad, focused, and completely unaware of the danger she was in.

  Foolish.

  A foolish human. Not the first I’d encountered. Not the last either.

  A sense of dread pooled in my belly as I watched her load her bow with a worn arrow. The frayed feathers at the end of the shaft were thissie feathers, plucked directly from the wings. In the moonlight, I recognized the bright blue shimmer as she leveled her bow, the cord pressing into her cheek, keeping her weapon steady. Thissie were rare, delicate, beautiful things.

  When I sensed movement to my left, I held my hand out, stilling my pujerak from approaching. As of yet, the vekkiri female had not committed a crime. We were to wait and watch.

  I heard her exhale a small puff of air. I could not peel my gaze away from her as she released her arrow. I heard the whistle of it. Then I heard it squelch into the rikcrun, emerging from its burrow for a night of gathering.

  Still, I watched her. I thought her dark eyes looked sad and I studied the way her shoulders sagged. That dread returned, tenfold.

  To my left, my pujerak said quietly, “Vorakkar, we must take her now.”

  Mercy.

  The word—the human word, which made me uncomfortable and doubtful—rang through my mind, but as Vorakkar, my mind was already steeled. It had to be. Vekkiri knew the laws of our world. As of late, they had pressed and challenged those laws. The evidence of it was right in front of me.

  Still, I hesitated.

  “Vorakkar,” my pujerak urged. “We must—”

  I cut him a dark look, tearing my gaze from the vekkiri female for the first time since I spied her through the dark trees. My pujerak, my second-in-command, immediately locked his tongue behind his teeth. I understood his impatience. He wished to return to the horde encampment, for, in his eyes, small matters like punishing vekkiri were beneath him.

  “We wait,” I said.

  My eyes returned to her. As a horde king of Dakkar, I knew what I had to do, what was required of me.

  I had to make an example of her, of the small thing that reminded me more of a thissie than a law breaker.

  Mercy.

  It was something I could not grant her.

  Chapter One

  My lantern was dying. The flame flickered and my stomach rumbled.

  Eyes returning to the dark burrow in the earth, I pleaded for the thousandth time with the thick, hesitant, smart grounder within.

  Please come out, so I can kill you, I begged silently. Please come out.

  My lantern died with a whisper and for a moment, depleted of the small golden light that had illuminated the space I’d occupied for the last hour, I was plunged into darkness. My eyes adjusted slowly, aided by the crescent moon’s light filtering in through the branches overhead. The forest outside our village was called the Dark Forest for a reason. It was a tangle of trees and rapid growth and decay. But the grounders liked to feed on the decay and since the herd of kinnu had moved on last week, grounders would be the village’s only source of meat for the rapidly approaching cold season.

  I didn’t like being this deep in the Dark Forest, but I was small and I was good with my bow. I could navigate the forest easily, which couldn’t be said for the other hunters in our village.

  Shivering, I hunched my neck deeper into the tattered scarf I’d brought with me. Blowing out a short, quick breath, I went through my routine to help pass the time, to help calm my nerves.

  One, I started, glancing up overhead, spotting an object shooting across the sky, far beyond Dakkar, probably on its way to a neighboring planet for deliveries. A merchant vessel.

  Two, I glanced at a tree to my right, a deep scar in the trunk that looks like a teardrop.

  Three, my eyes dropped to my feet, a finger-sized hole in my boots.

  Sliding my fingers over my weapon, I started over, but this time I closed my eyes.

  One, the raspy cord of my bowstring.

  I moved my hand to the earth. Two, wet, mushy ground.

  Three, I touched a crawling vine to my left, slick but fuzzy leaves.

  Next, I did sounds.

  One, the thumping of my heart. Two, the rhythmic, deep croaks of the chitter bugs. Three, a branch snapping—

  Breath hitching, my eyes flew open and I froze, my fingertips coming to my arrow. I stayed perfectly still as I scanned the dark forest in front of me without moving my neck.

  I waited for long moments, listening for anything big enough that could snap a branch, but heard nothing. Still, I was uneasy. Glancing back to the quiet burrow, I contemplated leaving for the night, but I knew that if I didn’t make my quota, I wouldn’t eat. My last meal had been yesterday morning and it had only been a shriveled root my neighbor, Bard, had given me out of pity.

  If I snagged one grounder, I could get a bowl of thin soup from the kitchens. Two would get me herb bread, a small chunk of boiled kinnu meat, and a bowl of broth soup.

  Mouth watering, I stayed and waited.

  My patience paid off. Even I was surprised when I finally heard the telltale signs of a grounder shuffling its way to the surface with its claws.

  Heart pounding, I lifted my bow, effortlessly and silently sliding my arrow into place. The raspy cord of my bowstring pressed into my cheek as I leveled it and steadied it against me.

  The grounder appeared, its black head poking through the burrow. The sliver of moonlight gleamed off its three beady, black eyes and I used that reflection to guide my shot. I waited only a moment more, a moment for the
grounder to heave its small body out, before I released my arrow.

  The shot was clean. It hit. My lips pressed together as I lowered my arm, a dull sense of relief flowing through me.

  Unfurling my body to stand, I realized my legs were numb and I winced, aching from the position I’d maintained for the majority of the night. I approached the grounder slowly, snagged my arrow from its head, and hefted it up.

  I looked into the burrow and started, my fingers gripping my arrow tighter, my breath quickening.

  Three eyes were looking back at me from the darkness. Another grounder. It stared, unmoving from its home, frozen.

  I can have meat and bread tonight, I thought, my arrow twitching in my hand.

  But I hesitated. I looked at this creature, staring up at me from the ground, and I suddenly wanted to cry. I’d thought that grounders were solitary creatures, creatures like me.

  My stomach growled but the noise didn’t scare the grounder away. Instead, it was me that looked away. I had one dead grounder. It would get me soup and, knowing from experience, I could survive on that.

  I turned away, my footsteps squelching into the wet earth. Returning to my spot, I picked up my bow, looping it through my arm and around my shoulder, and my dark lantern.

  I looked back at the darkened burrow just once. Then I left the forest.

  When I returned to my village, I waited for the guard to open the gates and then I veered left, towards Grigg’s home. It wasn’t far from the entrance of the village, but it was guarded, considering Grigg had the vast majority of the village’s supply of credits. I ignored the way the guards looked at the dead grounder hanging from my grip and knocked once on Grigg’s door.

  When I heard him call out inside, I entered. The older man was seated behind a table, looking over curls of parchment, scribbling notes. I’d often wondered if Grigg had become the village’s leader just because he was one of the only villagers that knew how to write our language and read it.

  “Nelle,” he greeted when I walked inside. It was warm in the house, no cracks in the walls. Grigg’s attention returned to his parchment. “You brought me a grounder, I see.”

  “Yes.”

  “Only one?” he asked, his lips tight when his gaze returned to me.

  “There were no others,” I lied. “It took me all night to get this one.”

  “Kier brought me three,” Grigg returned, leaning back in his padded chair. “And Tyon brought four.”

  My fingers grasped my arrow tighter. The weight of the dead grounder suddenly felt very heavy. I merely hefted it onto the table and said, “My credit.”

  Grigg glanced down at the grounder disapprovingly and nudged his parchments out of the way so its black, sticky blood wouldn’t get on them.

  “Very well,” Grigg said, reaching into a locked box on his table. I heard the rustle of credits inside and I felt greed and want growing in my chest, though I tried to keep my breathing steady. His hand paused. His eyes ran down my covered body, lingering on my small breasts, and my arrow trembled in my palm. “You want two credits tonight?”

  I couldn’t judge what other hungry women might do in my village, but I knew one thing for certain: I would never be desperate enough to fuck Grigg for an extra credit.

  “One,” I said, hating the way my voice shook, hating how my throat closed.

  The older man’s eyes narrowed and he tossed the credit onto the table, though it skidded and rolled onto the floor. I crouched, my fingers scrambling for it, the metal scraping into my palm.

  Then I turned, eager to leave. At the door, he said behind me, “Remember how powerless you really are, girl. I’m being nice, you know.”

  His unspoken words chilled me. What he meant was that I was a young woman—one of the few in our village—living alone, with no protection but my bow. I had no one. No family, no husband. If he wanted something from me, he could take it.

  “Kier tried to take from me once,” I said. I remembered that night, remembered the panic, remembered his rough hands. I turned to look at Grigg. Though I was frightened, I couldn’t show it. I’d learned that a long time ago. Meeting the older man’s eyes, I said, “And he ended up with my arrow in his shoulder. I was being nice by not shoving the arrow into another place.”

  Grigg’s mouth thinned.

  I held his eyes, then I turned my back and left.

  Once I was out of sight from the guards, I brought a shaking hand up and readjusted my bow, tucking the arrow into the band around my waist. I made my way to the kitchens, though nausea now churned in my belly. Because I knew the truth. I really was powerless. I was small and weak and hungry and alone. My only saving grace was that I was good with my bow and Grigg knew that. It was my only leverage.

  My gaze tracked up to the sky, remembering the merchant vessel from earlier. I tried to imagine what my life would be like on another planet, but couldn’t. Dakkar was all I knew. But sometimes, I just wanted to float away, float into the stars, and leave.

  I passed Kier on the way to the kitchens. He glared, that simmering rage boiling just beneath his exterior. When I’d first seen him, I’d thought him handsome with his dark hair and his light blue eyes. We’d been children then. Now, he just felt cruel. I could still feel his cruelness, like creeping shadow hands, even from a distance.

  That night, only a few moon cycles ago, when he’d tried to take from me, he’d said in my ear, “You’re lucky, Nelle. Be glad I would fuck such an ugly, strange girl.”

  I averted my gaze and ignored him, cutting a wide berth around his intended path. When I reached the kitchens, I slipped quickly inside, giving Berta my credit when she saw me hovering by the door. She harrumphed, always put out when she needed to serve food, but nevertheless, she slipped me a little square of bread when she passed me the bowl of soup.

  She didn’t want a thank you, so I didn’t give her one, but I nodded in acknowledgement of her unexpected kindness, knowing she could get in trouble if Grigg found out.

  Turning into the corner of the kitchen like a greedy, starved animal, I stuffed the small square into my mouth and chewed the dense, flavorless, powdery thing until it dissolved on my tongue. Then I chugged down the soup, knowing better than to take the food back to my home, unless I wanted to risk having it stolen. I ate fast because I always feared that it would be taken away.

  When I was done, I gave the bowl back to Berta, said goodnight, and left. The streets were quiet in our village—not the smallest village on Dakkar by far, but certainly not the largest either, or so I’d heard—and I quickened my pace. When I reached home, I bolted the door and pushed the table in front of it.

  My feet felt like boulders as I dropped my bow and lantern onto the table. But I kept my arrow close, the only one I had left, tucking it next to me when I dropped down onto the blankets on the floor, stroking the feathers at the end of the shaft. Once, they’d been beautiful. Now, they were dirty with use, sullied. Still, they were precious to me.

  As I sunk into sleep that night, for the hundredth time I mused that humans on Dakkar feared the Dakkari the most, feared their massive, battle-bred hordes and the powerful horde kings that led them.

  But me?

  I feared humans more.

  Violent pounding on my door woke me the next morning. In an instant, I was pulled from sleep, my hand fumbling for my arrow, which had rolled a short distance away during my thrashing through the night.

  I calmed when I realized no one was attempting to break down the door. Groggy but wary, I called out, “Who is it?”

  “Edmund,” a voice came.

  My brow furrowed, but I rose from my bed of blankets and pushed the table that blocked the door away. When I unbolted it and pulled it open, I found Edmund there, one of the gate guards.

  “What is it?” I asked, frowning, noticing that it was barely dawn and the chill made me shiver.

  “A horde came during the night,” he said slowly, watching me closely. “They told Grigg they saw a female hunting last n
ight in the Dark Forest.”

  My stomach dropped.

  I was the only female hunter in the village and hunting was forbidden by the Dakkari. For humans, at least. It was a law agreed upon when humans first began settling on Dakkar as refugees, long ago. To break it was punishable by death. I’d heard the Dakkari had killed humans for much less.

  Edmund studied me. I saw pity on his face, the same pity Bard had worn when he’d given me the old root to eat.

  “Grigg told them it was me,” I guessed, my voice soft.

  Edmund inclined his head.

  “I’m sorry, Nelle,” he said. “They are waiting for you.”

  Chapter Two

  Jana had told me once that the best thing I could do for myself was to rely on no one. Not even her. That way, I would never be disappointed and if something went wrong, I would only have myself to blame.

  She hadn’t been my mother, but she’d been the only person like a mother I’d ever known and in my own way, I’d loved her. And I thought of her and her old words as I walked to the crowd of gathering villagers near the entrance, Edmund’s heavy footsteps behind me.

  Numb.

  There I was, very likely walking to my own execution and all I felt was numb. In the back of my mind, I wondered if that was normal…if people often felt numb right before they died.