The Savage King

by The Savage King(lit)

  Setting her plate on the floor, Ulyssa didn't think as she leaned back on the couch next to Kirill. She slipped her body naturally by his. She felt his breath catch before his arm moved to drape possessively over her shoulder. His firm body cradled hers naturally to his side and his fingers glanced over her arm, the tips moving in a light, absentminded caress. He smelled so good. God help her, she wanted him.

  "Ah, to be so young again," Reid laughed.

  "This couldn't have been very long ago," Ulyssa said, studying the brothers. "You all look hardly thirty."

  They all laughed harder.

  "Ah, to be thirty again." Reid sighed with much dramatics.

  Ulyssa frowned, pulling back to look at Kirill. "If he's over thirty and you're the oldest ... just how old are you?"

  "Ninety-eight."

  Ulyssa's eyes widened and she waited for him to say he was joking. "You're kidding right."

  "Ah, yes, he's a young King, to be sure," Falke said. He raised his mug, prompting Reid and Quinn to do the same. "But, he'll be a great one."

  "Agreed," Quinn said, toasting.

  "Agreed." Reid raised his glass and nodded.

  "The hour grows late. I should get you home," Kirill said, pushing up from the couch. The statement was said with an intimacy that made Ulyssa nervous. Home. She'd never really had a home before, never really longed for one like the other kids in the orphanage. Going back. That meant a night of trying to keep herself from giving into her desire for him. Seeing the softer side of Kirill's life wasn't helping her resolve, nor was the insight into his father's ways. It explained much about why he was the way he was.

  Ulyssa affected a yawn and stood. Slowly, she nodded. She didn't like the tenderness that crept into her chest as she took Kirill's offered arm. With quiet good-byes they took their leave.

  Quinn sighed, as the door shut behind the couple. The three Princes sat in silence for a long moment, their face drawn in thought. Thoughtfully, the youngest Var murmured, "She does something to him. She relaxes him, balances him. It's almost strange to behold."

  "I noticed it as well," Reid said, not exactly smiling at the insight, but not frowning either. "It's almost as if he carries her scent as well. But, how can that be? How can a human woman mark our kind?"

  Falke remained quiet. Quinn shrugged, not knowing the answer.

  "Did you see the possessiveness in him?" Reid asked. All three turned their serious gazes to the door, as if they could still see the couple.

  "What do you think it means?" Quinn sighed.

  Falke sat forward, bracing his elbows to his knees. His low tone crackled over the tree home. "I think it means, brothers, that our King just might have met his woman. If he's not careful, he'll find himself lifemated to a Queen."

  * * * *

  The forest was dim and cast with shadows in the late hour, yet the suns still provided enough hazy light to see by. Ulyssa kicked idly at the trail with her feet as they walked. She'd dropped Kirill's arm to walk down the front steps and hadn't touched him since, though she desperately wanted to.

  "What is it?" Kirill asked, catching her soft eyes on him. His hands were threaded behind his back and he walked easily by her side.

  Ulyssa refused to say what she was thinking, because she was too unsure where her thoughts were leading her. So, instead, she asked, "You're not afraid to walk alone without guards?"

  Kirill chuckled. "Should I be?"

  "Well, I mean.... What if someone sent an assassin after you? Or wanted to kidnap you? Such things happen to royalty all the time. What about the Draig? Are they not a threat to you?" Ulyssa swallowed nervously, refusing to look at him, though she felt his eyes studying her intently.

  "Are you concerned about my wellbeing?" The words were soft, probing.

  She swore he drew closer to where she walked, but she didn't look up to confirm it. Taking a deep breath, she lied, "Not really. I was just curious as to why you would risk it. You could be ambushed."

  "I can defend myself," he answered, a bit hard. "There's no reason for me to hide in the palace. The Kings before me did not hide and neither shall I."

  "I'm not saying to hide. I'm just wondering why you don't have a guard walk with you when you're about or, if not a guard, your brother, Falke. I'm sure he'd come back with us if you asked him to."

  "You do not think I can defend you?" he demanded, his jaw tightening. He turned to her and his hand snapped onto her jaw, squeezing her as he forced her to look at him. His dark eyes glittered with green-gold anger and she could see the threat of a shift in him. A peculiar sensation slithered over her flesh and she was sure claws grew over her neck, near her pulse. His voice tempered with a roar, he growled, "What have I done to deserve such talk of dishonor from you?"

  "What? Dishonor? I--"

  "Rest assured," he hissed at her. "I don't need Falke to protect what is mine."

  "What is yours?" she repeated, stunned. Her heart nearly stopped beating in her chest. Was he claiming her as his? A curious feeling washed over her at the thought.

  "Yes, my property," he clarified, though the statement came a little too late.

  Oh, Ulyssa thought ruefully in growing outrage, his property. I see. His property. That pigheaded barbarian jerk! I'll show him property!

  "What in the hell do you mean--?" Ulyssa began, raising her hand to push his chest.

  "Shhh," Kirill ordered, turning his head away from her. His eyes scanned the forest. "Quiet."

  "Don't you--owph!"

  One of Kirill's hands darted forward to cover her mouth. The other pulled the back of her head until she pressed into the hard fold of his chest.

  "Someone's coming," Kirill said under his breath, directly into her ear. She struggled against his hold. He ignored her weak protests as he sniffed the air. "Walk behind me and behave yourself."

  Just as quickly, he let her go. Kirill walked, not watching to see if she followed. Ulyssa stood still, gasping for breath, and refused to move. She'd be damned before she'd walk behind him in submission. She crossed her arms over her chest, cocked her head to the side, and stared after him.

  Kirill noticed she didn't follow him and suddenly stopped. His fingers lifted and, without turning around, he motioned for her to come to him. She didn't move.

  As he turned to look at her, Ulyssa nearly laughed to see the tension in his body. His eyes glared out in anger, but she was too irritated by his words to care.

  "King Kirill."

  Ulyssa's smirk fell to hear the voice. She blinked, lifting her jaw proudly. She couldn't see past Kirill, but she watched him turn to the sound. His body only stiffened more and it was as if she could fell his tension inside herself. The sudden wave of stress made her sick to her stomach and she felt as if she might retch.

  "My King, it's an honor," the same voice said.

  Ulyssa took a small step to the side. The man who bowed to Kirill was shorter in stature with long graying black hair. If Kirill was ninety-eight, she could just imagine how old this man was.

  Cool, green eyes turned to her. She met the man's stare boldly. Ulyssa wondered at it. She took a step closer to better hear. Before she realized what she was doing, she stood next to Kirill's side. He didn't move to acknowledge her. The old Var eyed her curiously, as did his son.

  Under their stares, she did the only thing she could think of. She smiled, held out her hand, and said, "Hello, I'm Ulyssa Payne."

  The men merely looked at her strangely.

  "And you would be?" she prompted, a little too sternly at their rude silence.

  "Lord Myrddin, I know you haven't had the honor of meeting my mistress, Lyssa." Kirill's hand waved dismissingly toward her and he didn't turn to look at her. "Lyssa, this is Lord Myrddin and his son, Master Andras."

  Andras was a taller man than his father, with a head full of brown waves. Though, he did have the same cool, green eyes as Myrddin. Neither man moved to acknowledge the small bow of her head as they turned back to look at Kirill.

 
"Were you to Prince Reid's?" Myrddin asked.

  "Ah, just for a walk about the forest," Kirill lied.

  "We were most aggrieved to hear of your father," Myrddin said, angling his head so he spoke down his nose at Kirill. "He was a good King. Such men as him will never be replaced."

  It seemed like an odd thing to say to the present King. Ulyssa waited in sweet anticipation for Kirill to seize the man's throat and demand respect. To her surprise, he only nodded at the statement and said nothing. Ulyssa snorted lightly before she could stop herself and all eyes turned to her.

  "Lyssa, was it?" Myrddin stated. There was no question in his hard tone. She had a feeling he knew about her before their meeting. She also had the distinct impression their meeting here wasn't completely a coincidence. His eyes gauged her as he asked, "Did you have the honor of knowing our King Attor?"

  "Yes, briefly," she answered, matching his rude tone with her own. Ulyssa decided she didn't care for the man's attitude. She couldn't help but wonder why Kirill let him talk down to him. A desperate need to wipe the smarmy grin off the man's face overcame her. In a voice so sweet it dripped with honeyed sarcasm, she added, "I believe it was the same day he died. Though, it's hard to say since he kidnapped me and knocked me unconscious."

  "I see," Myrddin snarled. His mouth snapped, as he ordered, "Andras, come, we are late."

  "My lord." Andras bowed his head to Kirill and moved to follow his father's lead. His face gave away nothing of the exchange.

  Myrddin nodded to the King, murmuring, "My lord."

  "Lord Myrddin, Master Andras," Kirill answered politely. The men passed. Kirill didn't wait for them to get out of sight before he started walking against toward the palace.

  "Who were they?" Ulyssa asked when they were alone.

  "Lord Myrddin is a wise, respected man of the Var. He's leader of the old houses and his family maintains most of the shadowed marshes." Kirill still didn't look at her and Ulyssa realized he was livid. Gritting through his teeth, he said, "He and his men were very loyal to my father."

  Kirill walked faster, stalking through the trees. Ulyssa jogged to keep up with him. "He didn't seem very noble and wise to me."

  "Sacred Cats, Lyssa! Can you never just obey me?" Kirill stopped. His dark eyes narrowed in on her in anger. "I told you to follow behind me and yet still you stand beside me as an equal! Most of the time it doesn't matter, but his ways are of the old and we must respect that. Are you actually trying to cause us more trouble? If I didn't know better I would think you were trying to be my wife! Only a Queen would dare speak the way you just did."

  "Hey, buddy, I don't want to be your anything!" she hissed, matching his muffled tone. He wasn't yelling, but he might as well have been for all the anger in his face and voice. "You're the one who asked me to stay. I wanted to leave. Just let me out of our bargain and I'll leave now--right now! I'll walk into that forest and you'll never see me again."

  Kirill slashed his hand through the air to silence her. "I ask you to behave and yet you open your mouth! Can you just never stay quiet?"

  "You're a King. You don't have to answer to the likes of him. How could you let him speak to you like that?"

  "I have to answer to everyone in this kingdom," Kirill growled. "You gave me your word you would behave for three months until your ride came. If you would have me honor my word to let you go, I will demand you honor yours."

  "You still shouldn't let him talk down to you like that. If you won't defend yourself--"

  "You dare insult me further by saying I need you to defend me?"

  "Argh! You are so ... so argh! Who cares if he liked your father better, Kirill? I've got a newsflash for you. You're his new King and what's more your father was a jerk. I'm sorry you lost him and I'm sorry he's dead, but that doesn't change the facts. Look at your childhood, your brother's childhood--"

  "You're human. There's no way you can understand our ways," he broke in, storming closer to better glare at her. His body was tense and he refused to touch her. "I'm well aware you have no love for my father, Lyssa, but these people do. And more than that, Attor has their respect even in death. You can't undo centuries of loyalty in a week. I know it matters naught to you, for you plan on leaving, but it matters to me! I am stuck here for centuries!"

  "Stuck?" Ulyssa gasped in shock. She trembled violently at his nearness, as if she could feel his anger inside herself--but there was more, a slight edging of fear he'd never admit to and probably didn't know he had. His words echoed in her head as if he yelled inside her rather than whispered angrily before her. She heard roaring echo in her brain and it wasn't her frustration she felt. It was his. She took a frightened step back, her eyes wide. Every nerve inside her tried to push him from her body, not liking the invasion.

  Unhampered by her new plight, Kirill stood regally before her. The roaring stopped as he looked her over. Quietly, and without passion, he said, "I must insist you stop your slander against King Attor. If you speak of it again, our deal is off and I will have you punished."

  "You said you were stuck here," Ulyssa said instead of answering his threat.

  "I used the wrong human word," he dismissed, but she somehow knew he was lying, could feel that he was. "Your language is easy to switch around."

  Suddenly, she felt nothing. The silence in her head left her numb. He turned his emotions off, blocked them, swallowed them down until they were ignored. It was as if he invaded her and then left, taking part of her with him. She couldn't explain it, didn't even want to try.

  "As for your insolence before Lord Myrddin, I shall sentence you to two weeks of repentance. You may not leave my home until that time is served."

  Ulyssa gasped. She watched in silence as he stalked away. Then, glancing around the shadowed forest, she hurried after him.

  Chapter Eight

  Kirill took Ulyssa home without another word and, to her amazement, left her there alone. It was just as well. She suddenly felt like she had a lot to figure out. A small, yet overwhelming part of her screamed to push everything aside--her pride, her stubbornness--and just hold him whether he allowed it or not. That same part told her to submit completely, to give in so that she could have what she wanted. She ignored that small part, for it wasn't her logic that spoke, but her treacherous heart. Ulyssa refused to become enamored with a barbaric King.

  The first week of her repentance passed in anger. She ignored Kirill. He ignored her. She ate alone, bathed alone, sat alone, stared at the wall alone. It was only when she started to have conversations alone that she shook herself from her stupor and began looking for things to do. And, though she found little to occupy her, her thoughts stayed busy.

  The second week seemed even longer. Kirill's anger seemed to abate and he began dining with her in the evenings. At first conversation was stilted and short, but it gradually grew to inane topics about Qurilixen weather and food. He tried to ask her personal questions, which she artfully avoided. The only stories she had involved the Agency and that little detail wasn't something she wanted him to know.

  By the end of her repentance, an uneasy tension settled in the home. Their eyes would lock and hold for long periods before either of them thought to look away. Kirill would walk across the living room without a shirt, lounging against the doorframe as he spoke, knowing all the time she watched. Ulyssa would allow her body to brush against his when passing by. Or she'd allow ample amounts of cleavage to show in his direction. It was a game and they both knew it--a battle of the wills to see who would cave first. So far, neither was giving in.

  The two weeks were complete torture, sleeping on the couch, knowing she had but to crawl onto his bed and offer herself to him. Stubborn pride kept her from going. Stubborn pride was becoming a hard comfort in the late hours of the night when she'd wake up from an erotically charged dream of Kirill and of the magic his tongue could work on her skin.

  Once, she'd tried to relieve the sexual tension from of her body by herself. Kirill had stumbled sleepily
from the bedroom, sniffing the air, as he passed by to the bathroom. It was as if he'd known what she was doing. She closed her eyes and pretended to sleep. She'd not tried such a thing again.

  Another notion filtered in and out of her thoughts when she was alone. Kirill had been honest with her from the beginning. He could feel nothing for her or any woman. He wanted only one thing from her--her body. She respected him for that honesty, but suddenly it became a hard reality to swallow and she didn't know why. Why should it matter if Kirill could care for her or not? Did she really want him to? Did she want more from him than a passionate, adventurous, incredibly wonderful affair of the flesh? Did she want his barbaric heart?

  Ulyssa stopped pacing the length of his home. Her world spun as her mind edged closer to the thought. She turned in circles, looking for something solid to hold onto. The couch, the bright fireplace, the living room, it all blurred and streaked within her vision.

  "I think I ... love him?" she whispered with a confused grimace, right before she fainted dead away onto the floor.

  * * * *

  Kirill looked out over the balcony adjoining the royal office. He couldn't go back home, not yet. He needed to get away from the frustrating woman who already occupied too many of his thoughts as of late. She was rash, outspoken, reckless--everything Attor had warned his sons against in a woman.

  The valley below spread out with trees, the tops of which blended together in a gently rolling plain. Their leaves shimmered in such a way it looked like field of emerald. He loved this land--his land. And he loved the people who lived in it.

  Kirill sighed, feeling the weight of his burden tenfold. Only with Ulyssa did he feel it lessen, unless he counted that time when she'd opened her mouth too wide in front of Lord Myrddin and his son. The noble was a well-respected elder and her words had enticed him to anger. Already rumors spread of his distrust of the new King.

  It had been Lord Myrddin's nephew that helped to kidnap the Draig Princess Olena. Because of the foolishness of the plan, Brouse and his two cohorts were dead--slaughtered by the Draig Princes in the shadowed marshes. Lord Myrddin had been one of Attor's closest advisors and was also one of the few people Kirill had to worry about. The fact that he hadn't come to the coronation also said he wasn't wholeheartedly giving his support of the new King's reign.