The Savage King

by Michelle M. Pillow

  “Siren,” Ulyssa said quietly. “Can you open the royal office?”

  “Yes, my lady,” the computer answered.

  Ulyssa waited. The door stayed shut. Rolling her eyes, she stated, “Siren, open the royal office.”

  The door unlocked, and she stepped in. The room was dark. She wandered in toward the desk.

  “Siren, light the fire,” Ulyssa said. The fire blazed to life. She looked around, expecting Kirill to be sleeping at his desk. She’d caught him there once before. “Siren, where’s the king?”

  “I’m sorry. That information is not available to level eight security,” Siren answered.

  Level eight? Ulyssa frowned. “Siren, what is level eight security?”

  “Level eight is confinement to the castle, my lady, and limited privileges.”

  “Who is on level eight security in the palace?” Ulyssa slowly walked up to the desk, not really looking at it in her concentration to hear the computer’s answer.

  “I’m sorry, my lady, you’re not authorized to access that information.”

  Ulyssa gritted her teeth together. She’d just have to ask in another way. “Are the harem women level eight security?”

  “No, my lady,” Siren answered.

  Ulyssa relaxed. At least she was above the harem security level. That said something at least.

  “Most of the harem women are level six security, my lady.”

  Her smile fell. “Level six? Clarify please.”

  “Freedom to leave the palace, my lady, with limited castle privileges.”

  Ulyssa’s fingers skimmed over the top of Kirill’s desk, stopping to tap irately on a pile of folders. Under her breath, she whispered, “I’m on tighter security than King Attor kept his women?”

  “Yes, my lady,” the computer answered, causing Ulyssa to grimace.

  “What happens if I leave the palace, Siren? If I just walk out?”

  “The guards will be alerted, and you will be taken to the prison level and confined,” Siren answered. “There you will await trial.”

  “Estimate how long until the guards find me, Siren, if I were to escape.”

  “Past records indicate the guards could track a human woman within ten minutes to two hours. Anything beyond two hours is highly unlikely.”

  Suddenly, Ulyssa frowned. Reaching down, she placed her finger on a piece of paper inside one of the folders and slowly dragged it out on the desk. The emblem in the corner caught her eye first. It was the symbol of the MAPH, Medical Alliance for Planetary Health. If not for that, she wouldn’t have been able to tell it apart from the other documents.

  “What…?” she whispered, before stopping to glance around. She kept her mouth shut, not wanting to trigger a silent alarm in Siren by saying a wrong word.

  The MAPH was a cover for the Medical Mafia, a good cover the Agency had been trying to destroy for years. It was the whole reason she’d been sent to Qurilixen. It was her mission, and she suddenly realized that it wasn’t over. Doc Aleksander might be dead, but this was a document proving his dealings with the Var people.

  Ulyssa swallowed nervously, looking around the empty chamber again, wondering if she was being recorded. She didn’t pick the paper up from the desk as she again pretended to slap the flat stone top with her hand in a great show of frustration. Slowly, she rubbed the back of her neck, peeking down to see the paper.

  She had learned enough of the Var language over the last month to make out that it was a trade agreement of some sort between the Var and the MAPH. She couldn’t be one hundred percent sure what was going on, but she knew some of the medical ingredients listed on the document were illegal to transport off their native planets. If employed by the wrong person, it would be mass genocide. Ulyssa could only guess what race King Attor had wanted to erase from the history books with his little order of biological weaponry.

  The paper was on Kirill’s desk, so it was clear he knew about it. Did this mean he planned on going through with his father’s plan? It would explain why he hadn’t made a move against the Draig when everyone around him pushed for war. He could be biding his time until the Medical Mafia’s shipment came. Without an antidote, the Draig wouldn’t stand a chance. Depending on the form of the weapon, it would only take one drop into the water supply or one really strong gust of wind.

  Ulyssa had seen pictures of the devastation caused by biological warfare. The memory alone was enough to turn her stomach. Even if the Draig discovered what caused the plague, the antidote would never reach the planet in time.

  “Lyssa?”

  Ulyssa tensed to hear Kirill’s voice. She swallowed nervously, before pasting an indifferent expression on her face. When she looked at him, his dark features, his piercing eyes, her heart fluttered. She didn’t want to believe he was capable of such a monstrous act. But, in truth, she didn’t really know him.

  “Oh, hey,” she answered, doing her best to act nonchalant. Inside she shook terribly. She hugged the long coat to her naked body. She had meant to surprise him in his office but suddenly didn’t feel like playing.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked.

  “I was looking for you,” Ulyssa answered softly. She had to get that paper. Leaning back, she let the bottom of the coat fall open to reveal her boots. Instantly, his eyes turned down before sweeping back up to hers. To her surprise, he hardened against her. A wave of panic washed over her. Had Siren seen what she was doing? Had the accursed computer told him about it? Was that why he was suddenly there?

  “Why do you have me on level eight?” she demanded with a frown, hoping to cover her tracks.

  “It was before I knew you,” he answered with a shrug. “I couldn’t allow you to leave the palace.”

  “Oh,” Ulyssa answered, biting her lip.

  “Why were you looking for me? Did you need something?” His tone matched the intense look in his eyes.

  Ulyssa decided her best course of action was to distract him in the only way she could think of. But, even as she feared him, her body became excited by the game. Besides, he didn’t know who she really was, whom she worked for.

  With a little hop, she sat on the desk and moved to lean back on her arms. The coat fell open revealing her naked body as she crossed her legs. High boots covered her calves and knees, working their way up to her thighs. Her hand hit the stack of folders, and they went spiraling to the ground. “Oh, oops!”

  Kirill watched Ulyssa wiggle seductively on his desk. The coat slipped off her shoulders, baring her more. Soft orange firelight alighted on her skin, caressing her in ways he longed to, and glinted off the shiny surface of the boots. His body lurched. Sacred cats! She was beautiful and bold. Only Ulyssa would dare to enter the king’s royal office wearing such vixen attire.

  He hadn’t been expecting to see her. In fact, he was coming back to the royal office to think about what Reid had said. He was preoccupied with her, but did it mean anything?

  Then, he found her in his office, looking at his desk. He couldn’t help the suspicions that leaped inside him at the discovery. Always, when she spoke, he had the feeling she hid many things from him. He had yet to discover what that might be. A person merely shipwrecked, waiting for a ride, wouldn’t have the need to keep so many secrets. Where was the rest of the crew she was with? It was unlikely she’d be manning her own craft in deep space. What was she doing near Qurilixen space? It’s not like they were in a high traffic area. They were on the outer edge of the Y quadrant, disregarded as a primitive race. It’s how the Var and Draig preferred it. It was one of the few things they had agreed upon in the past.

  Kirill tilted his head to the side, wondering if she’d mind dropping the coat completely so he could have a better look. Passion filled his loins, making him ache with need. He wanted her, always wanted her. Reid was right, she occupied too many of his hours. He thought of possessing her, possessing more than just her temptress body. He wanted to possess her mind, her soul, perhaps even her heart. He wanted to know who she
was. He wanted to know what she was really doing on his planet, in the Var palace, in his bed. He wanted to know if he meant anything to her, beyond a means to find sexual release.

  They were all questions he could not bring himself to ask.

  Ulyssa watched a subtle shift of emotions cross Kirill’s dark features—anger, confusion, passion. The wave of his feeling tried to invade her body but she blocked him from her. Long black hair picked up the firelight as it glided handsomely over his shoulders to blend with the black of his tunic shirt. His body was rigid with power. His gaze flickered with gold.

  He was dangerous and suddenly she feared him. Graphic images of death and destruction that the Agency had shown her flickered in her mind. She didn’t want to believe that Kirill could be a madman about to wipe out an entire race of people without discrimination. She didn’t want to believe he’d be so cruel, so heartless. But, the fact was, she knew what sort of man King Attor had been. It was likely he’d raised his son to be the same way—ruthless, hateful, vengeful, deadly, and most of all deceitful.

  The first lesson of Ulyssa’s training had been to trust no one but yourself when out on an assignment. Hate it as she did, Kirill was her new assignment. She didn’t need to talk to headquarters to confirm it. She knew her duty. If Kirill was somehow in league with the Medical Mafia, she needed to know about it. If he were involved, she’d have to take him down, regardless of how she felt about him. It would seem her little vacation was over.

  Letting an impish smile cross her features, Ulyssa felt something inside her change. Her heart hardened, severing all feelings until she was but a shell. She forced herself to see him as a mission, not a man. It was the only way she could go through with her job.

  Kirill took a step forward and hesitated. His shifting eyes studied her. “There’s something different about you.”

  “Mm,” she moaned lightly, ignoring his words. Her hands lifted to the bun in her hair. Pulling the red-blonde locks loose, she shook them out, letting the curls pour around her shoulders. Giving him a feminine pout, she murmured, “I made a mess. Let me just get that, my lord.”

  Ulyssa hopped down from the desk. Not bothering to close the front of the coat, she took a step toward him before abruptly turning around. She thrust her leg to the side, showing a boot as she leaned over to pick up a file. Stopping in mid-bend, her backside thrust up in the air, she ran her fingers down over the vinyl-like material. With a flip of her hair, she looked at him through half-lidded eyes and licked her mouth.

  Kirill swallowed visibly. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. Grabbing a file, she set it on his desk. Then, cocking her hip to the other side, she repeated the same procedure again, this time stopping to suck her finger into her mouth as she looked at him. He answered the look with a low growl sounding in the back of his throat. Still he didn’t move as she put the second folder on the desk. Reaching for the last of her mess, she spread her legs wide and bent straight over. Hidden within the folds of the thin coat, she grabbed the trade agreement and shoved it into the sleeve.

  She tensed slightly as Kirill stepped up behind her. He threw the coat off to the side to expose her ass and grasped her hips firmly, jerking her back against his arousal. A groan left him as he rubbed his naked shaft along the cleft of her butt. That first shock of flesh against hot flesh reverberated through them, joining them in a way their bodies never could. She felt him inside her, in her mind, trying to connect. Ulyssa hid her thoughts, concentrating on the way he made her feel.

  She was caught off balance by the position, but his strong hold kept her steady. His arousal was hot, instantly sparking flashes of desire from where it touched her. Moisture pooled between her thighs, making her dizzy. Slowly, she stood back up, letting her body flex, caressing and sliding against his shaft. She tossed her hair over their shoulders and nestled back into his chest. His face instantly turned, burying in the soft locks to take a deep breath.

  “I enjoy your smell,” he murmured. “Berries and cream.”

  The folder slid from her fingers and crashed onto the floor, scattering papers everywhere. Kirill chuckled.

  “Pick them up,” he demanded hoarsely.

  Ulyssa bent over grabbed the nearest paper, not bothering with the rest of them. It crumpled in her hand as she balled it into a fist. Her eyes rolled pleasurably in her head as heat built inside her, spreading like wildfire from his touch. Kirill rubbed himself along her body, groaning in masculine pleasure.

  “Ah,” he panted. “On the desk.”

  Ulyssa stood and reached to put the paper on top of the pile. Everything but the feel of him, the sound of his voice, fell from her mind. Before she could let go, Kirill spun her around to face him.

  “No, you,” he growled, gasping for breath. “I want you on the desk.”

  He didn’t give her a chance to comply, as he lifted her up and set her on the solid, flat surface. He’d taken his pants off but still wore the shirt. With a growl, he shrugged it off and threw it aside.

  Kirill’s eyes glowed with yellow promise. A slow, seductive grin curled onto his features. “Siren, record us. Private file, king only access.”

  “Yes, my lord,” the computer answered.

  Ulyssa gasped and moved to cover herself with the coat. She heard movement in the ceiling as four small camera lenses came down and turned to the desk. She couldn’t let the computer record her.

  “Relax,” he whispered. His eyes were heated with golden-green promise. “I want us to watch later.”

  Ulyssa swallowed, as she felt something she didn’t recognize at first. It was nervousness. The idea thrilled her more than she thought it would and, against her better judgment, she let the coat go. It fell open once more.

  Kirill took himself in hand as he looked her over, stroking his long fingers over his hard length. Then going right for her, he pulled her to the edge and plunged his ready shaft into her moist heat. His body glided in her juices as he thrust to the hilt. Ulyssa gasped at the sudden onslaught as he filled her. Each time they came together, a feeling of shock overcame her and she was amazed her body still needed to stretch to fit him.

  Kirill held still for a brief moment letting her adjust. Her legs dangled off the side of the desk. She braced herself with her hands as he moved. He withdrew only to thrust harder in long even jabs, pushing into her hot center.

  His hand slid forward over her flesh to roll a nipple, pinching it into a firm bud. Ulyssa fell back, running her fingers to her own breasts to help him. Sensations exploded from the touch as her fingers mingled with his. Kirill grunted in primitive approval.

  His hand moved back to control her, as he pumped in graceful thrusts of his hips. Her body clenched around his, her passage tightening around him as he rode her to the edge of her desires. Their pants and moan mingled in the royal office, growing louder with each torturous plunge of his shaft inside her.

  Suddenly, Ulyssa screamed. Her body tensed on the desk, arching beautifully before him as the tremors of release overtook her. Kirill grunted in masculine approval and domination. Her passage tightened almost painfully around him, forcing the seed from his body as his orgasm took him in several rapid jerks. A cry ripped from his throat.

  In the aftermath, Ulyssa mumbled incoherently.

  Kirill froze, leaning forward to better hear her.

  “What?” he demanded, a little harshly, torn by his duty and his feelings.

  Ulyssa blinked as he withdrew from her. Breathless, she answered, “What? I didn’t say anything.”

  “Mm.” Softening a little, he let his hand lift to briefly touch her cheek before he turned to grab his shirt. “Siren, stop recording.”

  Ulyssa pulled the coat up over her arms, feeling inside the sleeve for the paper. A sense of guilt overwhelmed her at what she was doing. When Kirill touched her, she forgot everything but him. She knew her duty, what she must do, but for the first time she was conflicted over her obvious choice.

  Lacing his pants along his hips, Kirill
turned to her. He sighed, looking very tired. “Come, Lyssa, let’s go home.”

  28

  “Here.”

  Ulyssa looked up from the fireplace that she’d been staring at for hours. She was in such deep thought that she didn’t hear Kirill come home. Looking at him, she became lost in his dark eyes. She blinked, not really hearing what he had said. A spark ignited in her, torturing her even more. For a moment, she wished she wasn’t an agent, and he wasn’t a king she suspected of planning a horrific biological attack. What would happen if he was just an ordinary space pilot and she a…a…whatever it was normal women were? What would happen if duty weren’t between them?

  Something changed between them that night they walked back from the office. Neither of them spoke. They hadn’t fought, hadn’t said anything important as they made their way back to Kirill’s home. It was just as if that invisible wall between them had turned to stone, cementing them apart. After finding the document, she’d purposefully distanced herself from him, but she had a strange feeling he was doing the same with her. They’d not come together since.

  As he didn’t move, she finally looked down to his offered hand. In it was her communicator. Her heart fluttered lightly. She was almost afraid to touch it as if holding it would connect back to her world, tearing her further away from him. The urge to confess became strong. She opened her mouth, but no words would come from her.

  “When we made this deal,” Kirill said softly, “I promised to find it. It was broken, or you’d have gotten it back sooner. It seems some of the guards scavenged it for parts to fix their music relayer.”

  Ulyssa stiffly nodded and reached to snatch it from his fingers before she lost her nerve. “Uh, thanks.”

  “They said you had a gun, too.” Kirill looked at her expectantly, and she knew he wanted her to explain.

  “Oh, yeah,” she shrugged, forcing indifference. She’d like to have the weapon back, but didn’t dare push the issue. “My uncle gave it to me. I don’t really like using it.”