“Will you react this way every time I give you a gift?” he muttered, as if he couldn’t help but ask the question, though he’d demanded peace.
I frowned, though a treacherous excitement wound its way up my chest. “Will there be more?”
He said something in Dakkari, a longer phrase that he knew I wouldn’t be able to understand. Then he went quiet.
“You…” I trailed off, looking at the dagger, wondering if I would have need of it while I remained in the Dakkari horde’s encampment. “You really don’t want me in that way, right?”
He was a horde king of Dakkar. I was a human. Surely, males like him expected their bedmates to be more experienced, more beautiful, more sensual. As for me, even if I was interested in sex, I wouldn’t pick the fierce demon king who’d ordered my whipping as my first lover. I would want someone tender and kind and gentle. I was quite certain he was none of those things.
“I never said that,” came his deep reply and a shiver raced up my spine, “but I assure you,thissie, that you will be more than willing in my furs when that time comes for us.”
When. Notif. As if it was a certain thing.
If I’d been the surprised, gaping sort, my jaw would’ve dropped to the ground right then.
But all I did was glare at him, tracing the inlaid gold on the dagger’s sheath.
“Is that why you brought me here? Why am I to sleep in your bed tonight?”
“Nik, thissie,” he said and I wondered why he kept calling methissie. I wondered what it meant, but knew it was the wrong time to ask.
“Then tell me why I am here,” I demanded, growing frustrated. “Tell me why you took me from my village, why you had your healer tend to me day and night though my wounds were of your doing, why you give me gifts like this dagger and these clothes, and why I will share your bed this night, though I have been here five days already, and surely that was enough time for you to make other, proper, more…moreappropriatearrangements.”
I was shivering as I spoke, perhaps a little frightened by how he might react, though I’d told him earlier I had no reason to fear him. Looking at him now, the grey rings of his irises freezing me into place, I thought that perhaps I’d been wrong. There were plenty of reasons to fear him, just not the reasons I would’ve believed at first.
“You call me a demon,” he said quietly, “because you believe I am stealing your soul away. But I already told you, Nelle, that if I am a demon, then so are you. Because you are stealing more of mine right at this moment.”
His words made goosebumps break out over my flesh, underneath the warmkinnufur sweater.
“That is why I took you from your village. Why you are here.”
“I—I don’t understand,” I whispered, frustrated. “I don’t understand what you want from me.”
With a growl, he tore his gaze away from mine and leaned his head back on the lip of the tub, staring up at the ceiling of the tent. He splashed his face with water and then rested his wrists on the edge, water from his claws dripping onto the rug.
“I do not understand either,” was all he said in reply.
All I heard was the soft thumping of my own heart and a slight, whistling wind that picked up outside the tent.
I didn’t know how long we remained in silence, but it wasn’t long after that I realized my legs were numb underneath me.
When the horde king finally stood from the bathing tub, I kept my gaze averted. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him reach for a wrap of fur to dry himself off with.
“You cannot return to your village until after the cold season,” he said, his hair dripping across his shoulders, his voice hard and strange. “I will not task my warriors with making that journey now. Until then, you can make yourself useful here. There is much to be done in a horde, even after the first frost.”
Biting my lip, I offered hesitantly, “I am good with my bow.”
He made a sound in the back of his throat and tossed the fur aside, close to the raised fire basin, so it could dry.
“I know,kalles. I saw you hunt therikcrunthat night,” he rasped and I felt shame fill my chest. “But there is no game during the cold season here and so I will find you another task.”
He was still nude when he went around the tent, extinguishing the flickers of flames from the oil lamps, one by one, until the only source of light was the fire. It cast long shadows over his body, but I kept my eyes on his. The fire reflected in those dark, shining orbs made me think of Drukkar, one of the Dakkari’s deities. He was said to be unyielding and merciless and fierce.
“Come sleep if you are not going to bathe,” he ordered, tossing back the furs on the plush bed before climbing in. Still completely naked.
I rose from the low table, my dagger tight in my grip, and hesitantly approached. Unlike him, I kept every stitch of my clothing on, save for my boots, though I was tempted to wear them. But his furs were thick and soft and I didn’t want to muddy them. They were much too nice to be ruined and I trusted, perhaps naively, that he would remain true to his word, that he wouldn’t touch me if I was unwilling.
I kept my dagger within reach, however, as I lay down beside him on my stomach, on top of the furs since my back was still too tender.
