"You'd take the word of a lowly captive?" she teased.
His face fell. He didn't get the joke. Preoccupied with thoughts of direr things she couldn't begin to guess at, he merely answered, "Think of our arrangement as you wish, Lyssa. Only, remember it was you who claimed to be my woman, not the other way around. I'm trying to make the best of our situation. I expect you to remember our bargain. I'll hold you to your word."
Ulyssa watched him leave. She moved to follow him, but as she pulled the door open a tall, slender guard stood in her way. Even though the dark blond warrior was smaller than the other Vars she'd seen, he was still rugged and handsome. Didn't this race have any ugly men? She nodded her head at the man. "Talure?"
"My lady," he answered with a respectful bow.
Ulyssa saw him sniff the air as he leaned toward her. She suddenly wondered if she smelled bad. All the Var kept trying to sniff her--Falke, the guards. Did Kirill's marking leave her a little pungent? When Talure turned his back to lead the way down the long hallway, she lifted her armpit and inhaled. She couldn't smell anything too offensive. "Hum."
"My lady?" Talure asked, turning to glance over his shoulder just as she was lowering her arm. His brows furrowed together in the beginning of a grimace.
Ulyssa turned a subtle shade of pink. She lifted her hand like she was stretching in a pitiful attempt to hide what she'd been doing. "Ah, I didn't say anything."
Chapter Six
Kirill sat at the head of a long table in the main hall, listening patiently to Prince Olek as he spoke. The Draig Prince's light brown hair hung to his shoulders and was braided from the temples down. He had straightforward green eyes that appeared to see everything around him and yet they gave nothing away. Smile lines edged his mouth as if he laughed often, but he wasn't smiling now. Olek was the Draig Ambassador and, from what Kirill could tell, he was an honest man who really did want peace between their two kingdoms.
The Prince's temperamental brother Zoran, on the other hand, reminded Kirill of Falke. Zoran stared at them with a thinly concealed rage. Falke returned the dark look. Neither man had made a move of aggression, but both looked ready to strike at the slightest provocation. They had the same thick, sturdy build to them--a build that came from decades of war and training.
Zoran was the Draig Captain of the Guard and his presence demanded respect. He was the hardest off all the Draig brothers and Kirill knew he would not be satisfied by the outcome of their meeting today. Zoran, like Falke, would not cower if they were to go to war. When Kirill looked at the two Commanders, he knew neither would bend. War would be a bloody option for both houses.
"You know I can't admit to something of which I have no knowledge," Kirill said at last, doing his best to be diplomatic. The Draig wanted answers. He couldn't blame them. But, what they wanted, he couldn't and wouldn't give. "If King Attor ordered the attacks on your family, I don't know about it. We have no records of these events."
Zoran tensed. Olek merely nodded. Kirill was fairly sure his father had done the things they accused him of, but refused to voice his suspicions to the Draig Princes. To do so would be to add fuel to the already raging fire between their people.
"I can assure you," Kirill continued, "that I don't share my father's views of our kingdoms. As I have said before, it's my hope that the House of Draig and the House of Var may find peace."
Falke tensed next to him. Quinn caught his eye and nodded in silent agreement. Reid, who stood behind them, didn't move.
Slowly, Olek stood and extended his hand. "I'll pass your words onto my father. It, too, is my hope we can reach an understanding."
It was Zoran's turn to tense. His jaw flexed as he too stood up. His voice a hard growl, he stated, "There is much to consider, however."
"Yes, much," Falke answered in harsh agreement.
Kirill took Olek's hand and clasped it briefly. They both sighed, knowing the Commanders had faced each other often in battle over the many decades. No matter how hard they wished it, peace would not be gained overnight.
"And pass along my congratulations to your family on the Princesses' pregnancies. You're truly blessed to have all four with children at once," Kirill said. His words were more of an acknowledgment that he knew what happened on Draig land than a congratulations to the royal family. It served to remind Zoran they were not ignorant of Draig affairs. "May your line stay strong."
"As may yours," Olek said.
Kirill thought of Ulyssa. Why did she pop into his head at such a moment? He could sense that she wasn't telling him the whole truth, but he didn't believe she was a spy for the Draig. Whatever it was she was hiding, he could think of worse ways of pumping her for information than doing it in his bed.
Olek bowed before turning to Zoran. Zoran motioned to a group of Draig soldiers sitting nearby. The dragon shifter guards stood and followed the Princes from the hall. Falke followed behind them to escort them out without having to be asked.
"What do you think?" Reid asked when they were alone. He sat where Olek had been, grabbed the pitcher of Qurilixen ale from the table, and poured himself a goblet.
"I think they are like us," Quinn said. "They want peace, but they don't know how to trust us. How can we blame them?"
"How indeed," Kirill said.
There was a long moment of silence. Suddenly, Reid grinned. "Are the rumors true, my King?"
"What rumors?" Kirill blinked, confused. Reid laughed, prompting Quinn to do the same. Grumbling, he added, "And stop calling me my King. It sounds mocking coming from you."
"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 rolled his eyes. 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, afterwards, 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 ton
ight? 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 goblet 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.
* * * *
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 bottles many of soaps, it took her awhile 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.
* * * *
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 Attor's death. The fact that Kirill had not done so did not sit well with the 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 month. 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 sprung into action. He leapt 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 in confusion. He looked her over. She looked fine to him--more than fine. He hid his grin.
"This human 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 soaked for a long time or was scalded. He leaned over to help her stand when what he really 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 sighed 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 he cheek with light kisses. "Mmmm. 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 growled, trying to push him away. His gentle laughter over her predicament stung. A blush of embarrassment tried to sting her cheeks, she swallowed it back.
"Ah, but you are my mistress, Lyssa, for three months at least. And I have needs a mistress 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."
The Savage King Page 8
