The Savage King

by Michelle M. Pillow

  “The rumors, my lord, that you have chosen a first half-mate so quickly after your coronation,” Quinn said. His thoughtful blue eyes sparkled with much amusement.

  “Yes, my lord, and that you favor chasing her naked about the halls,” Reid added, laughing harder.

  “Ah, stop calling me my lord, you insolent wretches,” Kirill muttered, feigning irritation. He’d known he’d be in for some good-natured teasing from them. “It’s a good thing I favor you both, or I’d have you thrown in the dungeons.”

  “And that she likes to run away from you wearing your royal garb so that you may track her,” Quinn added.

  “Oh, and what about the one—” Reid began, only to be interrupted when Kirill slapped the table.

  “Enough,” Kirill growled. He frowned to think of his arrangement with Ulyssa. “Yes, I’ve taken a mistress. Her name is Lyssa. You’ll meet her tonight at dinner.”

  “It’s true? I thought that surely the rumors were false.” Reid gasped in amazement. Unexpectedly, he nodded in masculine approval. “Lyssa, you say? But didn’t you leave here with Linzi after the coronation?”

  Kirill sighed. Reid had a predilection for bedding many women and didn’t care who knew it.

  “You’ll bring her here, to the hall?” Quinn asked, a little surprised that the king would bestow such an honor to a woman so soon. King Attor never allowed his women to dine with him in the hall, no matter how long they carried his favor. “Are you thinking of mating to her?”

  “Sacred cats, Kirill!” Reid exclaimed, horrified. “Why would you do something like that? Have you gone mad?”

  “I assure you I’m quite sane. I’ve no intention of taking a mate.” Kirill’s voice was stern. “I merely thought it wise to have a woman in my home to tend me.”

  “But, why not take the harem? That way, afterward, you can send her away. And why take one when there are so many willing?” Reid shook his head, stunned. “Surely you don’t wish to sleep with only one woman. What’ll be said of you, Kirill? You are king. You’ll be expected to fulfill many. You should be taking a dozen women to your bed at a time if only to prove your manhood. Do you wish for our people to see you as weak? Can you not handle more than one woman, brother?”

  Kirill scowled at Reid’s insult to him. He glared, slamming his fist down hard on the table. The goblets fell over at the force of his blow. “Well, Reid, you appear to have too much time on your hands. Instead of questioning my prowess, why don’t you find something of use to do? Oh, I know. Why don’t you cook for us tonight? I wouldn’t want to ruin my reputation by bringing Lyssa to the hall.”

  Reid grimaced. Kirill knew his brother considered cooking to be woman’s work. To call upon him to do it was a suitable punishment. Quinn, seeing Reid’s look, laughed.

  “We’ll be at your house at seven. Quinn, inform Falke of our plans. I expect you both there.” Kirill grinned.

  “Why’d you have to bring me into this? What did I do?” Quinn pouted though he was hard-pressed to hide his grin.

  Kirill moved to leave, only to turn. Smiling, he said, “Oh, and Reid?”

  “What?” the brother grumbled.

  “Do not disappoint your king,” Kirill smirked. “You’d better hurry. I’ve quite a royal appetite.”

  “We’ll be lucky if he doesn’t poison us,” Quinn whined in his most mournful tone. The smirk on his face belied his words.

  Reid growled. He picked up a goblet and threw it at Quinn. The youngest brother ducked, backing away. The cup hit the stone floor, making an awful racket as it bounced.

  “See you tonight, brother,” Quinn taunted, sprinting from the hall before Reid could clobber him.

  12

  Ulyssa stretched her arms over her head and yawned. The large bath was filled with hot, steaming water. Though her training had included the concept of a water bath, she’d never actually soaked in one. Boy, had she been missing out. She had half a mind to stay in the tub the entire three months.

  Finding many bottles of soaps, it took her a while to decide which to use. In a decontaminator, all one had to do was push a single button and go. Finally, choosing the best smelling of the liquids, she dumped a large amount of purple soap on her head and smacked it with the flat of her palms until it was squished into her hair. A trail of suds gushed over her face, and she screeched in dismay as it ran into her eyes. Bending over, she held her breath and dunked her face straight down into the water. Furiously, she rubbed her eyes until the stinging stopped.

  She sat up, sputtering and gasping for breath. Part of her hair was plastered to her cheeks, and she grabbed a towel off the wall to swipe the wet locks back. Never one to quit, she grabbed the bottle with purple soap and squirted more into her hand. It pooled between her fingers. Ulyssa froze, staring at her goo-covered palm. All of a sudden, she screamed at the top of her lungs and jumped up in terror. Horrified, she hopped out of the tub, tripping and hollering her way from the bathroom.

  13

  Kirill slowly walked down the long hallway, lost in deep thought. Reid’s words still stung. He knew his brother was only saying what he, himself, had not wanted to admit, that having Ulyssa in his home could be perceived as a weakness to his kingdom. The Var people were used to King Attor and his ways. And, whereas there was no law stating Kirill couldn’t claim a woman for his own, the fact that he had brought Ulyssa so quickly to his home might affect the public’s opinion of him.

  Already, some were weary of his decisions. Many of the old houses, led by Lord Myrddin, believed they should attack the Draig and avenge King Attor’s death. The fact that Kirill had not done so did not sit well with King Attor’s loyal supporters. Kirill could not discount their opinions, as they were well respected, powerful men within the Var community.

  “What a mess,” he muttered under his breath.

  He thought of sending Ulyssa to live in the harem. But, the fact that the people believed her to be his chosen first half-mate, and his mistress, also meant that they’d see her banishment from his bed as a sign of indecision. The Var prided themselves on being decisive and confident. Ulyssa had said she was his, and so he must keep her, at least for three months. Three months was little time in his world, but he could only hope to find a way out of their situation by then. Three years would have suited his purpose better.

  Still troubled, he made his way home. Weary from his meeting with the Draig, he shut the front door behind him. A shrill scream echoed from the bathroom. He jolted in alarm and turned to the sound of terror. Kirill froze, his eyes wide as he watched the bathroom door.

  Ulyssa slid across the marble floor on her naked back, leaving a trail of soapy water in her wake. Her arms and legs flailed in the air as she tried to stop. He would have thought it comical, if not for the sound of her panic.

  Believing she was under attack, Kirill sprang into action. He leaped over the couch, flying through the air to land next to her sprawled body. As a reflex, sharp claws grew from his fingertips and fangs from his gums. Ready to defend her, he sniffed the bathroom. He could detect no danger. In fact, he could detect nothing at all.

  “What is it?” he asked in a near growl. He slowly retracted his claws and fangs. His eyes glimmered with a golden-green interest as he looked down at the floor. His body was tense, his blood stirred, ready for a fight, for action of any kind. The heightened state of his senses easily turned to the naked woman beneath him, covered in soapsuds. He licked his lips, watching the little bubble trails make their way over her flesh from her hair.

  Ulyssa whimpered and tried to stand. “I…need…a medic.”

  “What?” Kirill asked, leaning over to hear her. He inhaled, trying to detect blood and smelled nothing but the fragrance of soap mixed with the distinctness of her womanly scent. The aggression moved down his body to gradually fill his loins.

  “I need a medic,” she yelled in frustration, shaking. “I…there’s something wrong with me. I’m melting!”

  Kirill’s eyebrows furrowed together i
n confusion. He looked her over. She looked fine to him, more than fine. He hid his grin.

  “This word, melting. Does it mean burnt?” he asked, wondering if he didn’t understand her. Her flesh was a darker shade of red from hot water as if she’d soaked for a long time or was scalded. He leaned over to help her stand when what he wanted to do was crawl forward onto her, trapping her wet form beneath him. With much effort, he refrained.

  Gripping her arm in his firm hold, he hauled her up. Her feet slipped as she struggled to find footing. He held her before him. Instantly, his eyes went over her naked body, first taking in her wet soapy breasts. His mouth went dry.

  Red blonde trails of wet hair stuck to her shoulders, ringing down around the side curves of her breasts. Her dusky nipples were puckered and hard, standing proud from the creamy globes. His gaze followed the soap trails down her flat stomach to where they were held captive by the narrow strip of nether hair between her beautiful thighs. His mind went blank, unable to perceive anything but the idea that the soap would make him glide so sweetly into her tight body.

  Every primal instinct inside him roared to life. His body responded in the only way it could. His shaft grew with a sudden force of desire, pressing and throbbing against his tight pants. If not for the nef, he would’ve tossed her over the back of his couch and had his wicked way with her, whether she was ready for him or not.

  “No, not burnt. I’m withering,” Ulyssa said in a panic, not seeing his sudden discomfort or the fact that he eyed her like a beast after a meal.

  Kirill’s darkening eyes darted up to her trembling lips before looking at her pale face. Her eyes were a little red where she’d rubbed them, and her hair stuck up at places from her scalp. It took him a moment to comprehend her words. She looked comical. He couldn’t help himself, as he started to chuckle.

  “Here,” a panicked Ulyssa demanded. She held out her hands for Kirill’s inspection. “It’s not funny. Look. I think I used acid or something. I’m withering away.”

  Kirill looked down at her fingers as she shoved them up into his face. He grabbed her hands to pull them back so he could see. Her body shook violently. He could smell her terror, and it stirred an odd protectiveness within him. Looking at her hands, he laughed anew. Her fingers and palms were red from the heat and wrinkled from too much time spent in the bathwater.

  Ulyssa jerked from him and tried to step back. Her feet slipped on the soapy stone, and she ended up falling forward into his arms. Kirill caught her with a grunt.

  “I’m glad you think my dying is so funny, you…you savage!” She struggled against him, but her feet slipped, and she only ended up jerking around in his arms.

  Getting a closer view of her soap-smothered hair, Kirill couldn’t stop laughing. The troubles of the Var and Draig melted from his mind. “Just how much soap did you put onto your head? Half the bottle?”

  “Oh, it was the soap wasn’t it? Was I not supposed to use the purple? Does it do something to humans?” Her wide blue eyes looked at him, pleading with him for help. “Is it for morphing? What’s it turning me into?”

  Kirill let his arms wrap around her waist, and he pulled her intimately close to keep her still. Ulyssa gasped and stopped breathing as the fire of his arousal hit her stomach. She made a weak sound in the back of her throat, and he could smell the instant downpour of her desire for him.

  “You’re not dying,” he said calmly, softly. His dark gaze dipped possessively to her mouth. “You stayed in the water too long. And the soap you used is for the skin, not the hair. Have you never taken a bath before?”

  “Decontaminators,” she answered by way of an explanation. She shivered from the cold against her naked back now that the scare was over.

  Kirill let a sexy smile line his features. “Hum, well, as long as you’re undressed and wet, I might as well teach you how to properly use the bath.”

  “I don’t want to go back in there,” she said in all earnest.

  Kirill leaned forward to nuzzle her cheek with light kisses. “Mm. How about the shower? I’d very much like to have you wash me and you do need to rinse off.”

  “Hey, I’m not your maid,” she protested, trying to push him away. His gentle laughter over her predicament clearly stung. A blush of embarrassment tried to sting her cheeks. She held it back.

  “Ah, but you are my mistress, Lyssa, for three months at least. And I have needs a lover must tend to,” he said, a low crackling in his throat as he rubbed his hard erection into her wet stomach. Soap and water soaked into his clothes, sticking the material to their flesh.

  “I agreed to be subservient,” Ulyssa cringed, barely able to say the word aloud, “in public, but in private you have no power over what I do.”

  Kirill pulled back and frowned. His hand moved to her arms to hold her away from his body. Very seriously, he stated, “I am king.”

  “Didn’t take long for the title to go to your head, did it man cat?” Ulyssa mocked.

  She took a deep breath, trying to slow her racing heart. She’d been truly terrified. Now, it just seemed silly, and she couldn’t help but be humiliated. She didn’t do embarrassed well, so instead she did the most natural thing, she started an argument.

  Besides, if this man thought she’d play housekeeper and bed warmer slave for three months, he was sorely mistaken. Letting her voice dip into a sultry murmur, she proposed, “Tell ya what, Your Highness. How about I behave and act submissive in public and you be submissive to me in private. I think it only fair.”

  Kirill’s features hardened. Very sternly, he stated, “A man can’t bow to a woman, Lyssa, and still call himself a man.”

  She trembled at the low timbre of his words. The distance between them was agony. She was hot for him. Her stomach stung with the discomfort of her desire.

  “What kind of nonsense is that?” she shot. Placing her hands on her hips, she faced him without thought of her nakedness.

  “It’s logic,” he stated. “A man ruled by a woman is ruled by weakness.”

  “So women are weak?” She would never admit it, but she’d thought about him all morning until she was nearly mindless with desire. Suddenly, playing washerwoman didn’t sound so horrific. In fact, if it gave her a chance to feel his hard body for herself, it could be downright pleasurable.

  “Yes,” he answered without flinching. His hand rose to caress her cheek. She didn’t move. Softly, he continued, “They’re the softer sex. They’re to be ruled, protected. It’s why their bodies are softer, slighter than a man’s. A man who dares to love a woman will have weakness in that love for he’ll consider her opinion over his. And, if the enemy wishes to strike him, they will strike his heart to get to him. I’m a man who must lead a kingdom. Do you think I can do so if my people think me weak? I can’t afford weakness. I’m the highest Var power on Qurilixen, just below our gods. So, you see, a king can never be subservient. I can’t bow to you, not even in private.”

  Ulyssa considered his barbarian logic and continued to stare at him. She detected a sadness in him, a loneliness. She saw the strain of his position in his eyes and was sorry for it.

  “Kingdoms are only as strong as their rulers,” Kirill said. Then, seeming to struggle, he added, “I don’t want you making too much of our time together. Nothing can come of it. I’ll never be able to commit to you fully.”

  Ulyssa almost laughed. “Think pretty highly of your skills as a lover, don’t you?”

  His shoulder lifted in a manly shrug as if he had only been stating a fact.

  “It’s good to know the Var king doesn’t have self-esteem issues.” This time she did giggle. “Don’t worry, Your Most Royal Highness. I think I’ll be able to pry myself from you when the time comes.”

  “Lyssa,” he began in warning to her insolent tone.

  “Easy, Highness.” Ulyssa licked her lips. She kind of liked his Me-Man-Hear-Me-Roar attitude. She’d never put up with it for a lifetime, but it was damned sexy in a lover. Forcing a playful pout to her li
ps, she asked, “So you can’t even play? How sad.”

  “Play?” Kirill asked, confused.

  “Leave work at the door, that sort of thing. You don’t see me stressing over my job.”

  “Ah, but your job isn’t ruling half a planet.” Kirill’s gaze moved over her face, taking her in. He looked as if he wanted to say more, but he held back. His eyes shifted with gold, turning from their dark depths as he looked intensely at her.

  Ulyssa felt her body stir with more than just desire. She didn’t like it. He had said it himself. Nothing could come of this. She didn’t want anything to come of this, did she?

  Ulyssa swallowed. No, definitely not. She had a job, a mission. Well, she’d have a mission once the Agency picked her up off the barbaric rock of a planet she was trapped on, new mission, new adventure. Her eyes dipped to his mouth and back to his eyes.

  She sighed. That must be what her problem was. She was bored. That’s why she spent too many hours contemplating Kirill. She wasn’t preoccupied with him. She was preoccupied with boredom. Just because the unattainable was before her didn’t mean she had to fight to obtain it. What did she want with a king anyway?

  Relaxing now that she had it all figured out, Ulyssa let her lids fall languidly over her eyes. She gave a small, sexy moan. This was just sex. The barbaric king was just another adventure to be had. Leaning into him, she pursed her lips. “You’re very somber, you do know that, right? You should loosen up a little, relax.”

  “And you’re very naked,” he answered, letting his gaze fall over her. His fingers glided down over her shivering skin to ring circles around an erect nipple.

  “Mm, and very cold.” Ulyssa inhaled a shaky breath. With each pass of his finger, shock waves erupted beneath her skin, traveling down her stomach to make her body even more ready.

  “Fire,” he stated loudly and the fireplace blazed. His lips parted as he leaned over to flick his tongue over a ripe nipple. “Come with me to the shower and warm up.”