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