Madness of the Horde King (Horde Kings of Dakkar Book 3) Read online

  Madness of the Horde King

  Horde Kings of Dakkar Book 3

  Zoey Draven

  Copyright © 2020 by Zoey Draven

  All rights reserved.

  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.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover by Aria at Resplendent Media

  For more information visit www.ZoeyDraven.com

  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

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Epilogue

  More From Zoey

  Thank You!

  About the Author

  Prologue

  The windows of the towering turrets looked like golden jewels, shining and glittering and beckoning me in the dark. I had never seen anything quite so beautiful. And the city had many, many turrets, some taller than the others, some wider, and some so narrow they seemed to disappear in the night.

  I shivered, however, thinking that for all the city’s beauty, it resembled a weapon from a distance, with its spiked towers and glowing, welcoming light. A trap. Meant to lure in prey to devour it.

  I was trembling again. I was gasping, wanting to vomit from what I was about to do. My aching feet felt like boulders encased in thin slippers, which were crafted from molted Ghertun skin. They had lasted me on my journey from the Dead Mountain, but now made crackling sounds that made my belly churn with revulsion as I stepped towards the walled, glittering city.

  Tears were already pooling in my vision. My chest and throat felt tight, suffocating. The pleasant, cool night air did nothing to soothe my fear but I forced myself to remember something good. I reminded myself that at least the frost had passed, or else I would’ve died from exposure by now.

  If I had emerged from the Dead Mountain a few weeks earlier, I would’ve been dead already, frozen and blue and alone. Now, I was only one of those things…but I wasn’t certain if I would’ve rather been the other two.

  The entrance gate was a short distance away. It was made of gold, Kakkari’s gold. From the safety of the forest’s edge, which bracketed the wide road leading to the gate, I counted four guards, dressed in Dakkari armor of plated gold. I eyed the steel of their blades glinting in the moonlight, swallowed hard, and then retreated deeper into the shadow of the forest.

  Coward, my mind whispered. There is much at stake.

  My breath hitched and the tears began to slither down my cheeks. I was terrified but I would do anything for my family. Even if it meant walking to my death.

  Following the small, trickling stream, I scanned the perimeter of the stone wall through the thick, black trees. It took me a while to find it, but eventually I spotted where the stream entered underneath the city’s walls. There was a small gate letting it pass inside, the bars barely big enough for a child to squeeze through.

  Taking a deep breath, I stepped from the forest’s edge and darted quickly to the gate, crouching against the wall in the darkness, my heart booming so loud I was certain the guards at the entrance would hear it.

  Then I squeezed through the bars, shimmying and wiggling my bones through, suddenly grateful I didn’t have the full curves of my sister, whereas before I had always been envious.

  Taking mud and sludge from the bottom of the stream—though the stench was rotten—I coated my hair, darkening the color, scrubbing it into the roots, an old habit and an old fear from my mother’s warnings. Only when I was certain no white showed through did I pull up the hood of my heavy cloak.

  I stared at the end of the tunnel as the water caressed my ankles. The glow from the city made the water up ahead flow gold.

  “Into the belly of the beast,” I whispered, daring to speak for the first time in what felt like years, remembering a story Maman used to tell us as children.

  I wanted to curl up right there in the narrow, dark tunnel and never move again. I imagined myself as bones floating between the bars of the gate and down the stream again.

  Instead, I walked forward.

  As I did, I realized it was quite possible I was the first human to ever step foot inside the Dakkari’s capital city of Dothik.

  Chapter One

  That darkened alleyway of Dothik felt like a reprieve.

  Though the city was quiet that time of the night, there were still males and females alike stumbling around on brew, their drunken, boisterous laughter booming in the still air.

  I gritted my teeth, leaning back against the wall of the alley, peering down the narrow entrance. The building of a brothel was to the left. To the right, a tavern.

  Dothik was the last place I wanted to be but the Dothikkar had summoned us all now that the frost had passed. Frustration built in my gut. I had just led my horde east into ungira territory, where we would remain for a few moon cycles. Ungira were dangerous beasts, the most violent and territorial of all game on Dakkar. It did not sit well with me that my darukkars, my horde warriors, would make the first hunt of the season in my absence. Anything could happen.

  When a small door slid open to my left, I growled, my hand darting to the sword at my hip. A small, breathy gasp made my ears twitch and my tail flick restlessly behind me. But I realized it was only a brothel whore, as surprised by my being there as I was by her unexpected interruption.

  My hand fell away from the hilt of my blade as I regarded her with narrowed eyes. Her full lips were painted black. Her red eyes raked down my body, no doubt wondering if I had gold to pay her should she approach me.

  But I made her wary, hesitant. Her instincts were warning her away from me.

  She mistook the dark grin that spread over my features for interest. Despite her better judgment, she walked down the short steps to where I was hidden in the dark. When she was in front of me, she parted her robe, her body nude underneath, her breasts full, her nipples painted gold, though the shimmering color was smudged, as if another male had already been suckling there.

  “We do not
have to go inside,” she murmured, her voice husky and warm, though I detected the thread of fear underneath. Still, she cupped one of her breasts, pinching her nipple until it was tight. “You can fuck me out here if you wish. If you like that.”

  And despite my anger, despite the sudden desire thickening my cock, both emotions tangling so deep within me, a knotted mess that had been there since I was young, I was tempted to ask her price. Something quick, something distracting, something rough…perhaps it was what I needed.

  Then she made the mistake of touching me. She reached down to cup my cock through my trews, pressing. Her eyes went wide, her lips parting, but I snatched her hand away and snarled.

  The brothel whore’s startled gasp met my ears. She backed away, eyeing my face when I stepped forward into a thread of golden light from the tavern’s windows next door.

  She saw my scar, recognized my features, and stunned realization went through her. Immediately, her head dropped, shielding her gaze, and she greeted, “Vorakkar. Forgive me. I did not—”

  I was already pushing past her, more frustrated now than I’d been before. Being in Dothik, I was never alone. I could never be. It was why I’d sought out the darkened alley to begin with. For quiet.

  Though, I feared the shadows most of all. I feared what hid there, what lingered.

  At the last moment, I dropped her a golden coin and heard it clatter on the stone at her feet. “For your trouble,” I rumbled and then stalked away, my footsteps thudding hard on the cobbled path.

  There was a sour stench in the air that made my belly churn. I was tempted to turn towards where my pyroki was stabled, take her from the mrikro, and steal away from the city in the night. Ride until I met my horde in the east. Only then would I breathe easier. Only then would the air be cleaner. Only then would the dark memories of this city fade.

  Instead, I paced Dothik restlessly—as I used to when I was younger—keeping my face shielded in my cloak, though most I encountered steered clear of me. Buzzing under my skin made me walk faster, longer, eating up the city under my boots. A part of me was tempted to return to the brothel and bury myself in a female or two until the restlessness passed. Perhaps then I would sleep. But I knew sex would make it worse.

  I stayed away from the western part of the city, where I used to live with my family, and where she used to live. To the south, I had just turned down a set of slanted stairs, stepping over a slumbering male’s outstretched legs, when I spotted a cloaked figure hunched against the side of darkened home. The small figure was trembling, despite the warmth in the air. I frowned. A child?

  But the cloak wasn’t Dakkari-made. That alone made my spine straighten, made me regard the child closer.

  The figure’s head came up slightly and seemed to freeze at the sight of me. Slowly, the child pushed up from the wall.

  Nik, not quite a child, I thought. They were too tall. The long cloak brushed the ground, making a swishing, rustling sound as the figure hurried away, limping.

  Stilling, I watched them retreat, down the narrow, curving street. That deep into the city, there was no one around, save for the slumbering, drunk male on the stairs. It was quiet. I could still hear the figure’s steps on the stone echoing back to me.

  Leave it, I told myself. Return to the brothel and spend the rest of your energy into a female. Or better yet, return to the Dothikkar’s keep and take one of his freely offered concubines for the night.

  But my feet carried me after the mysterious cloaked figure, my curiosity piqued. Even still, my hand strayed to my sword once more, my gut telling me that something was amiss and that I should be prepared.

  Keeping to the shadows, I followed, softening my quick footsteps as I wound down the cobbled path. The figure hadn’t made it far. I could hear their exhaled, panicked breaths even from a distance. When they turned their hooded head in my direction, I pressed to the wall, closing my eyes so the reddened glow wouldn’t give me away in the darkness.

  A moment later, the cloaked figure slipped down a dark alley, one that wouldn’t lead anywhere. But not before I saw the flash of their foot under their cloak and I froze, my mind racing, not thinking what I saw was possible.

  Emerging from the shadows, I followed, not bothering to shield the sound of my hurried gait. When I reached the entrance, they were just backing out of it, seeming to realize their mistake. The figure didn’t see me coming.

  My heart quickened when I snagged them around the waist, pushing them back into the wall of the alley, restraining their arms, which felt like twigs in my palms.

  A soft, surprised cry made my ears twitch, made my eyes widen.

  With an impatient growl, I pushed back their hood and stared into the face of a vekkiri kalles. A human female.

  Here, in Dothik.

  In the walled capital city of Dakkar with the Dothikkar’s guards on regular patrols.

  A human.

  I was not surprised often. But right then, I could only stare down into her strange face, my jaw tight, squeezing her arms perhaps a bit too tightly in my astonishment.

  Primal fear marked her face. She was trembling in my grip, her eyes bright and wet. She was not a child, after all. She was a female, grown. Her breasts pressed against the wall of my chest and I found her extremely pleasing to look at, despite her fear.

  “P-please—” her voice broke. “Ple-ease don’t hurt me.”

  The stuttered words filtered through my brain and I processed them with a narrowed gaze. She spoke in the universal tongue. The language had sat, unused, in my mind for so long that I had almost forgotten it.

  “Hann…hanniva,” she whispered.

  Now, she spoke in Dakkari.

  Please, she begged.

  It didn’t put me at ease. Where had a human female learned the Dakkari tongue?

  I didn’t release my grip on her. Instead, I studied her intently, my gaze rapt on her face while she trembled in my hold, her breaths coming out in quick gasps.

  Her shimmering eyes were wide and light-colored. I had never seen a parallel to their color in a Dakkari. Or perhaps their lack of color, since hers were a clear, luminous grey. Her hair was dark but the stench of it, unwashed and dirty, drifted up to meet my nostrils. Dirt smudged her flesh, and her cloak, upon closer inspection, was tattered.

  The female froze when I parted her cloak, stiffening under my touch. I’d meant to search for a weapon. I hadn’t expected for her to be dressed in nothing but a sheer shift underneath, one that exposed her naked body to me. A growl rose in my throat. Her limbs were long and willowy. Her nipples were pebbled tight, pink in color. A tuft of light curls shielded her sex from my view. All smooth, unblemished, unscarred flesh.

  “Vok,” I cursed.

  My body reacted of its own accord, the unexpected sight of her body surprisingly erotic. Shaking my head sharply, my nostrils flaring, I grappled for control. There was no weapon in sight, but when my hand gripped her hip, tugging her forward, she made a strangled sound in the back of her throat.

  “No.”

  Then her hand shot forward, quicker than I could blink, and she struck me across the face.

  Chapter Two

  What have I done?

  Stunned, I looked at my hand, frozen in the space between us. My strike had barely made the hulking Dakkari male flinch, however, and when his glowing red eyes cut to me, they were shards of ice. Crisp and cold.

  I couldn’t help what I did next. I didn’t mean to. But my fear made me panic. My gift was not something I could explain and sometimes, it was not something I could control.

  Between us, I sensed the tendrils of energy gathering. I pushed forward with my mind, pushing, pushing, breaking that hidden barrier into him. And I almost gasped at what I found.

  Turmoil. Hatred. Darkness.

  So potent it slithered up my arms, crawling into me, consuming me.

  Run, my instincts told me. His grip on my hip had loosened when I’d struck him. Before I could think better of it, I broke the conn
ection from his mind, ducked, and darted away, favoring my left leg. The crumbling slipper on my foot tore and slipped off.

  The streets were quiet. I could not seek help, not that I would find any. Not here. I was weak, hungry, aching from my journey. A throbbing headache was beginning to bloom after I delved into his emotions. A mistake. But the fear inside me overrode everything else.

  A strangled cry tore from my throat when the male caught me. Easily. He hauled me back within the alley, pressed me against the wall, his thigh slipping between my legs to keep me still. His palms pinned both my wrists down.

  Then he snarled in my face, in my language, “Who are you?”

  Words stuck in my throat as I stared up at him. I could feel the hot tears leaking down my cheeks. My brothers had always teased me for crying too easily. Though I knew they’d said it in affection and in jest, I’d always been shamed by the unwelcome reaction. I couldn’t help it. I cried more than anyone I knew.

  The Dakkari male was terrifying. I hadn’t seen a Dakkari since my father’s death and now one had me in a dangerous position…in his possession. Alone.