The Savage King (17 page)

"Oh, Kirill, baby, yes." Ulyssa felt tears stinging her checks and was glad the wind would dry them away before he saw. Never had she felt so desired, so wanted, as she did beneath the groping, untamed movements of his body. At her words, his hips thrust faster, deeper, harder into her core until he touched her deeper than any man ever had. The tension built like a rocket getting ready to blast into deep space. "Oh, there, there, oooh right there. Oh my ... Kirill!"

Ulyssa screamed as the most intense orgasm she'd ever felt racked her from head to toe. Her hot passage clamped down on him and he answered her call with one of his own. He came in long, hot waves inside her body. He stayed deep, letting his essence wash into her, marking her as his, laying claim. If not for Kirill's hold on her hips, she would have fallen off the edge and not cared.

Ulyssa slowly stood up, weakly falling back until she came flush to his chest. She panted for breath, frail and trembling. Kirill kissed her earlobe, sucking it between his teeth.

"More," he whispered. The word was marred by a growl.

Ulyssa's eyes shot round in surprise. "Kirill, I ... give me a second."

"More," he growled louder. Before she knew what was happening, she was swept up into his sturdy arms. His lips pressed into hers--passionate, strong, demanding--with a kiss that stole her very reason. When her lungs nearly exploded for want of air, he let up. She lay weak in his arms. Kirill grinned down at her, and repeated, softer, "More. I want more."

Ulyssa moaned lightly. Without breaking stride, Kirill swept her forward to the door, and into the bedroom. He placed her down on the bed, stood only long enough to undress completely, and then moved to crawl over her with stealthy grace. She giggled, loving the play of his muscles beneath tanned flesh as he came above her legs from the end of the bed.

"Kirill, maybe we--"

His roar cut her off. His hands pushed her legs open. And, before his lips met her center to wet it once more to him, he growled, "More."

* * * *

Ulyssa couldn't move from the bed. Her body was sore. Kirill's more turned out to be a lot, lot more. By the seventh time, she was almost ready to go and find some nef for him just to get him to give her a rest. By the eighth, she was ready to force the nef down his throat. Luckily, nine seemed to be his limit and he finally let her rest.

His stamina was one thing, but her own surprised her. Just when she thought she couldn't go anymore, that her body would've surely been raw, he'd heat her back up to the point she was squirming and begging for him to finish it. And finish it he did, until she came so hard she thought the whole barbaric planet was falling apart.

Feeling a hand on her thigh, she looked over. Kirill had awakened in a playful mood. He grinned with meaning, as his hands skimmed higher beneath the covers. His fingers found a breast and he tweaked her nipple, rolling it lightly. It hadn't taken him long to discover how sensitive her breasts were and he used the knowledge to his full advantage.

"Mmmm," she moaned in weak protest. "No more, Kirill, no more."

"Are you sore?" he asked, concerned.

"Yes," she moaned. However, the way he played with her nipple was causing her to forget herself again.

With lightening speed, he tossed up the covers and slid over her. The covers settled back over his hips as he rubbed his erection to her swollen opening. "Then let me soothe you."

"I can see why your kind takes so many women," she murmured, jokingly. She reached up to brush aside his tangled hair so she could see his face.

Kirill tensed. A strange look passed over him. "You now wish for me to take another woman?"

"Do you want another woman?" she asked, carefully. Her heart stopped beating and she was sure she almost died in that moment.

"Right now, I want you," he whispered after a length, sweeping to kiss her lips. His body thrust forward and he made love to her slowly, savoring their shared passions. When they both met their release, he rose from the bed to retrieve a box from the closet. Setting in on the bed without comment, he left to take a shower.

Ulyssa sat up. She stared at the box for a long time before throwing aside the lid. Inside were a pair of cross lace pants and a shirt, similar in style to Kirill's but made to fit her. There was also a pair of boots. Her shook as she looked at the gift and her heart skipped in little strange beats. Then, her eyes rolling in her head, she fell back--fainting again.

Chapter Nine

Life at the Var palace mellowed into a steady routine for Ulyssa. In the mornings, she'd either exercise with Falke or take a stroll about the palace grounds, trying to learn her way around. Kirill taught her a few simple tricks to getting about and, if she ever got lost, all she had to do was ask Siren how to get home. She soon learned the computer could track her at any time, anywhere. So, if Kirill wanted her, all he had to do was ask. Unfortunately, it wasn't the same for her. Despite feeling like she was a prisoner he could keep tabs on, things were pretty good between them.

Sometimes Quinn would walk with her, if he happened upon her in the halls. She had a feeling Kirill sent him to keep her company, or more likely to keep an eye on her and probe her for personal information she'd never give. Quinn never let on and they enjoyed an easy friendship. She found the youngest brother to be good-natured, though he did have the same stubborn streak known to the Var men in his family. It was clear he, like his brothers, put no stock in love or finding a lifemate.

Mostly, she and Quinn would discuss the Var people and their great history -a history the Princes had lived through. She still couldn't get over that Kirill was old enough to be her grandparent. Even with their advanced medical knowledge, humans rarely lived past one hundred. But, when she was with Kirill, she didn't see his age and it didn't bother her as much as she thought it would.

From Quinn, she learned much about King Attor's rule. She couldn't be sure, but it was almost as if he wanted her to understand Kirill by teaching her of their past. Long ago, several hundred years before Kirill's birth, before Attor became King, things had been different for the Var people. It was a wild time, a time when the Var let emotions rule their head and their hearts. They acted rashly, on instinct.

For reasons completely unknown to Quinn, Attor changed the ways of the Var. He was a good King, one who worked hard for his people. He encouraged emotional detachment so that if one half-mate died, there could be others to take her place. It was Attor who encouraged men to have control, to drink nef, to prove their worth and dependability with emotionless detachment. He taught by example that to prove prowess in the bedroom showed prowess in the field of battle, until strength in one meant strength in the other. Many of the elders followed the old King's example and took many half-mates, though none so many as the King. Lifemates were a privilege of the lower classes--tradesmen, farmers, even hunters and lower ranked soldiers, all men who could ill afford to keep many mates on a planet so barren of women to begin with.

Attor's father had suffered the folly of mating with one woman--Kirill's grandmother. She died when Attor was born and his father never recovered enough to have more sons. Although he took women to his bed, he left Attor without any brothers to help lead the Var nation. So, when Attor took over the throne, he became reliant on a few noble houses--like Lord Myrddin's.

Ulyssa slowly reasoned that, even after he had his sons, Attor must have relied heavily upon the old house nobles and it was more than likely Lord Myrddin wasn't happy being out of power. With Kirill as the new King, the old house nobles were no longer needed, for Kirill had his brothers. It was a new era for the Var, and, in politics, the old rarely adjusted well to the new.

Ulyssa suspected there was more to Attor's story than Quinn knew, but she doubted she'd ever get a chance to find out for herself. The King's past had been buried with him and it was just as well. No matter how Quinn sung his father's praises as a King, the fact remained he made a lousy father, and as a man he was little better.

Ulyssa looked up from her place on the balcony, where she watched the subtle color shifting in the dusk-tinted sky as it marked the late evening hour. She doubted she'd ever get used to the brightness of the planet, but at least Kirill learned she liked the curtains drawn at night. It was a small thing, but one he never forgot to do, even without being asked.

Ulyssa sighed, moving back inside Kirill's home. She'd been on the planet for a little over a month and for the last couple of weeks things had been almost like a dream. She was getting too comfortable with him and knew it would be best if she could start to put some distance between them.

Though their bodies came together often, they didn't speak of anything intimate beyond the physical. An invisible wall was between them, keeping emotion from entering into their agreement. He didn't bend to her, didn't beg, but neither did she. They kept their truce and made no demands.

Kirill would leave during the day to be King. When he came home they had a silent understanding that outside concerns didn't come between them. All it took was one look, one touch of his hand, and she'd melt into his arms. Without the aid of nef, he was insatiable. It didn't matter, because so was she.

They spoke of nothing important and made love constantly--in the shower, on the couch, before the fireplace, the closet, the kitchen, the dining table. He'd even managed to get her back into the bathtub with him. Ulyssa smiled at the memory of her body riding over his soapy one, being caressed by water and his hands at the same time.

Their playfulness even overflowed to other parts of the castle, though always in private. When they were alone, he was affectionate, almost sweet. He smiled more. He laughed and joked. He kissed her freely, without thought or hesitation.

However, the few times they were seen in public, he'd ignore her as if she were but a servant waiting to do his bidding. His gaze would harden and he'd become detached, hardly looking at her. When they were again alone, those eyes would soften ever so slightly and he would pretend that nothing happened. Ulyssa hated to admit it, but the change in him hurt her deeply. It was almost as if he were ashamed of her.

A few times, when she first awoke in the mornings, she would catch Kirill watching her. There would be a strange look in his eyes, a look that had little to do with physical desire. In those moments, there was something more between them, something neither one of them cared to explore.

Ulyssa sighed. She didn't want to think about it now either. It was late and Kirill had yet to come home. Deciding she didn't want to wait around for him, she grabbed a long coat from the closet and went to find what he was up to.

* * * *

"Kirill? Kirill, are you listening?"

"I'm sorry," Kirill answered, sitting up in his chair where he stared absently into the fireplace of the old council hall. He turned to look at his brothers. Reid had been speaking to him, but now a frown marred his face. Slowly, Kirill nodded his head for him to go on.

"I said," Reid continued, "that there have been signs of movement on the Northern borders. The men have found tracks."

"Draig?" Quinn asked from his place on the red carpet floor.

"Boots. It's too hard to be sure if they are ours or theirs, but I have not ordered anyone through the marshes." Reid's frown deepened. His narrowed eyes looked to Kirill, who was again drifting from the conversation.

Kirill sighed. He was tired of discussing the Draig. It's all they'd talked about since Attor's death. Right now, he wanted to just go home to Ulyssa.

"Lord Myrddin's men could have gone through with a hunting party," Falke allowed.

Kirill nodded. All Reid had said so far was merely speculation and hardly worth sending out the troops to investigate. Still, Reid knew the Outland better than anyone and if his gut said something was wrong, there could very well be something wrong.

"Ah, hell!" Reid growled. His eyes glinted with yellow as he glared at Kirill. Kirill blinked in surprise. "I'm your brother so I'm just going to say it. You need to get your head off that woman! She's affecting your duty to your kingdom. She's distracting you just as our father warned a woman would if you let them come too close."

"You speak out of turn, Reid," Kirill warned in low tones.

Reid stood to tower over the King. "Pulling your rank to silence me doesn't make it any less true. Lady Ulyssa occupies too much of your mind."

Kirill stiffened, before gracefully moving to his feet. He'd gone out of his way to make sure his affections for Ulyssa were not shown in public, even if there were times he wanted nothing more than to touch her, kiss her, pull her onto his lap.

Reid glared hotly at him. Falke rose, but his expression gave nothing away. Quinn sat up on the floor, but did not look directly at any of them. Aside from the crackling of fire, the old council hall was silent.

Very carefully, Kirill answered, "Ulyssa is a good lover, but nothing else to me. If my thoughts are occupied, they aren't with her. I thank you for your concern, brother, but it's not needed. I know my duty and I will do it."

Before Reid could speak, Kirill turned and stalked from the room. The King's expression was blank, but his body was stiff and jerked with his anger.

"Well done, Reid," Quinn muttered from the floor. "Very diplomatic of you."

"We are on the verge of war and you wish for diplomacy?" Reid asked.

"There is still time for peace," Quinn said. "If there will be war, let it come and I'll fight it. But do no wish for war and the death of the people you'd think to love. And don't condemn our brother for trying to find some sort of peace or happiness for us. Haven't enough lives been lost under our father?"

"We will not, cannot be considered weak," Falke stated.

"The Draig must wonder why we haven't attacked." Reid placed his hands on his hips.

"Let them wonder," Quinn put forth with a shrug.