The Savage King

by The Savage King(lit)

  He was dressed in his usually dark attire. The studded armbands around his biceps gleamed in the firelight. Her eyes roamed unbidden over his body, more familiar now with it since she'd had a chance to explore it for herself. Her body heated even as her mind rebelled.

  "We go to Reid's home tonight to dine so that you may meet my brothers." Kirill lifted the dress toward her. "You can wear this."

  "No thanks, I prefer pants."

  "Lyssa," he began, exasperated. Then, sighing, he shook his head. "You must wear this tonight. You are a woman and this is tradition."

  "Your tradition sucks," she grumbled, stomping across the marble floor to snatch the dress from him. She pushed past him into his room and slammed the door behind her.

  Kirill sighed and didn't move. The tension was back in his body. His head throbbed with renewed force. He didn't know what he'd done to make her so mad. He'd explained his position to her. He could not, would not beg her to sleep with him. Kings just could not beg. It was simple.

  Then, with a shrug, he assumed she would come around. If she didn't, he'd just have to make her life torture until she couldn't stand it any longer. A devious smile came to his face. He was sure he could make her so hot for him that she'd soon forget her words and submit again--and again, and again, and....

  * * * *

  Little, unevenly winding trails worked through the thick fold of colossal trees. Strange yellow ferns grew over the red Qurilixen soil. Ulyssa trampled them with her feet as she walked.

  Prince Reid's home was deep within the forest, north of the palace, near what Ulyssa assumed would be Draig territory. She was surprised to find that Kirill walked alone with her. There were no royal guards behind him, no entourage of soldiers--just them and the wide open forest. She wondered if she could make a run for it.

  The air was fresh and the sky, from what she could see peeking in through the shelter of branches above, was of a clear greenish-blue. The green leaves of the surrounding foliage were overlarge due to the excessive heat and moisture they received. Ulyssa had seen the three suns peeking from the clouded sky--two yellow, one blue--when they passed through the back way of the palace from the Var city.

  The city surrounding the palace looked to be a large one that rolled down the countryside from the front gate. The homes were constructed of gray bricks, contrasting to the red earth, with the same beautiful workmanship seen within the palace--though more simplistic and rectangular in design. From what she could tell, the city thrived.

  Kirill briefly explained that the royal family only used the front entrance for ceremony--usually when leading the troops to war. Otherwise, it was much faster just to take the side stairs out of the palace directly into the forest. When Ulyssa asked about palace security, he merely roared and two very large mountain lions were summonsed to their side. Even in shifted cat form, they bowed their heads before sprinting back to disappear into the trees.

  Ulyssa looked around, wondering how many Var warriors watched them. Maybe they weren't as alone as she had thought.

  "We're not being followed," Kirill said at her side, without even glancing at her. Her head whipped forward and they continued on in silence.

  The air was surprisingly warm for the evening hour. Birds sang beautifully in the distance. Little noises of insects came from all around. Various woodland critters shuffled away in fright, strange creatures she had gotten closer looks at when she camped.

  Suddenly, remembering the rustic campsite, she wasn't in such a hurry to run from the palace. Besides, she was going to thoroughly enjoy bringing Kirill to his knees. She looked over at him and smiled. He tensed, his eyes narrowing in suspicion as they turned to her direct attention. She couldn't blame him. She'd been rather cold to him since the shower.

  "Mmm, so beautiful out," she murmured in her sultriest tone. She let her lashes sweep over her blue eyes. "Does your planet always look like this?"

  "This season is the longest," he answered, seeming to relax. "But there's also a short winter. The Draig get hit worse, as they have the larger mountain range."

  "Why are you fighting the Draig? Because they are different than you?" Ulyssa was truly curious. Both seemed like proud, strong races. After discovering the first species of aliens, humans had put aside their petty interracial issues and they'd became simply human. That had been centuries ago. Could it be the Var and Draig simply had primitive race issues? It seemed a silly thing to fight over, but it happened often enough.

  Kirill opened his mouth to answer and then hesitated. He stopped walking to turn to her.

  "What?" Ulyssa asked.

  "I'm not sure you're to be trusted," he answered truthfully.

  "Why? Because I refuse to sleep with you again?" she demanded.

  "Ah, so you haven't changed your mind. I thought maybe since you were again speaking to me...." His dark eye searched hers, before he shrugged.

  "There's no reason not to be civil. So, what's going on with you and the Draig? What do you have against them?"

  "In truth, I have nothing against them. The battle I fight now was my father's war." Kirill hesitated. He didn't know what made him confess such a thing, but he did feel better having said it aloud. He looked at Ulyssa. Her wide blue eyes stared back at him--not judging, not assuming. It was rare that anyone looked at him anymore in such a way. He realized she was the only person he could say such a thing to, for she was the only one around him who had no vested interest in peace or war.

  "Listen, I've been meaning to tell you something." Ulyssa's hands wound nervously together before she let them fall again to her sides. "I didn't mean to insult your father."

  Kirill merely nodded and she said no more about it. They walked in silence. He reached out to touch her shoulder and pull her to a stop next to him.

  "Are you sure you wouldn't change your mind?" he asked. "We aren't due at Reid's for awhile longer."

  Ulyssa turned to him, not needing to be told what he meant. The same thing had been on her mind since she declared she wouldn't submit to him again. She stayed strong. Artfully manipulating her cleavage as she again walked, she asked, "Are you ready to beg for it, your highness?"

  "You know I won't." As he spoke, his gaze was predictably on her chest.

  "Then, I'm afraid I'm famished and wish to get to your brother's early." She shot him a brilliant smile, blinking as innocently as she could muster.

  Ulyssa just smiled. The Var King was hot-blooded, though he hid it well. It would take no time at all before he caved to her. Her smile turned into a full grin. Her plan was working a lot faster than she thought it would.

  Kirill's expression darkened. He watched her from the corner of his eye. Sacred Cats! She was beautiful. The black gown hugged her slender frame, pulling tight and low across her breasts. Cross lacing worked up the side of the gown, exposing hints of flesh. The skirt flared around her hips to her knees. On her feet, she wore thigh high boots that disappeared beneath the hem of the skirt. Kirill wanted nothing more than to follow the boots up with his hands. He wasn't fooled by her play of innocence and they both knew it. He walked faster. Under his breath, he muttered, "By all that is Sacred, you are a stubborn briallen!"

  * * * *

  Reid's home was built aboveground, in the colossal trees of the forest. At first, Ulyssa didn't see it from the forest floor. Kirill led the way in moody silence, only to stop beneath a thick overhang of leaves near a large stone bolder. Pushing the branches aside, he revealed a narrow staircase carved into the stone side of the rock. The rock was pressed flat to tree trunk, which was much wider than the old redwoods back on Earth.

  "After you," he said, quietly.

  Ulyssa hesitated, looking up around the trunk.

  "I assure you, it's perfectly safe."

  Ulyssa shivered. He stood very close to her back. She could feel his heat, the tickle of his breath on her neck. A momentary wave of lightheadedness passed over her, causing her to sway on her feet.

  "Something wrong?" he asked in a ton
e that had dipped to a low timbre. She felt a hand whisper over her hip, skimming down along the top of her thigh, dangerously near the bottom curve of her backside. The touch was light, but it was enough to remind her how good his hands felt against her flesh. Every nerve lurched to attention.

  "No," she whispered, trying hard to control herself. She stumbled forward, climbing around the steps.

  Kirill walked behind her, enjoying the soft sway of her hips as she moved. He was almost positive she did it to tantalize him. He could smell her desire for him, teasing his senses almost as badly as her nearness did. It was a wicked game they played, but he found he much enjoyed their battle of the wills. He wouldn't give in first, couldn't give in, but it'd be a grand thing to watch her try to make him.

  They climbed the steps around the base of the thick tree, making it half way around until they came to a door carved into the trunk. A small window was fitted into the wood, but Ulyssa couldn't see through the dark drape that hung over it on the inside. She looked curiously at Kirill.

  "Your brother lives in a tree?" She tried to hide her amusement.

  Kirill reached from behind her and knocked on the intricately carved entryway.

  "The King knocks?" Ulyssa mused, whispering over her shoulder.

  Kirill's face had come close to hers. He didn't pull away as her mouth turned to his. Leaning slightly closer, so that when he spoke his lips whispered against hers, he commanded, "Behave yourself, Lyssa."

  A roar sounded from the inside followed by laughter. Kirill gave the door a light nudge and it soundlessly swung open. Ulyssa gasped. Inside, the tree had been hollowed out, forming polished wood floors with gorgeous natural swirling designs, and walls carved to look like rustic planks. The ceiling, also of wood, spiraled high revealing the home had at least two levels carved into it.

  Kirill took her arm and led her up two stairs from the small opening of a front foyer to the main living area. The main level was circular, except along two flat sides were walls were left and rooms carved out behind them. An intricate door was carved into one of the flat walls, leading to a bathroom on one side. The other wall had an opening in it with a bar and barstools, revealing a large kitchen behind it.

  Light filtered in from outside from little holes in the ceiling, reflecting off a small glass and mirror dome. In the center of the first floor was a comfortable living area adorned with thick, red couches and matching chairs, throw rugs woven in the same designs popular in the palace.

  Ulyssa instantly recognized Falke as he stood up from a chair only to bow at his brother. From the corner of her eye, she saw Kirill wave him down. Falke sat.

  "You've met Falke, our Var Commander of the Guards," Kirill said, taking her arm and leading her in. Falke again stood and curtly nodded. Ulyssa shot him an impish grin. She had not forgotten her stoic nemesis so easily. "And there on the floor is Quinn."

  Quinn waved lazily and shot her a handsome smile from his place lounging on the floor. He lay on his back, his knee drawn up with a foot leisurely laid across it. A shock of lighter colored hair fell over his bright blue eyes.

  "Believe it or not, he's our Ambassador." Kirill turned to the two men. "Quinn meet Lyssa."

  "Quinn?" Ulyssa whispered to Kirill, a little daunted by the idea of being in a room full of Var Princes. "I thought you said we were visiting Reid? How many brothers do you have?"

  "Only four," Kirill said, almost apologetically.

  "Our father was a busy man," Falke added, rising to his father's defense. "He didn't have time for breeding."

  Quinn chuckled and sat up. "Ah, don't mind these barbarian brothers of mine, my lady. They tend to forget that Earth culture is different than our own. Here it's considered a low number to have only five sons. Most families have anywhere from twelve to fifteen."

  "There could be more," Falke defended. "King Attor went many places."

  Quinn grinned, but nodded in agreement of the possibility.

  "Fifteen?" Ulyssa squeaked. "I think five is more than enough. As it is, I suddenly feel very sorry for your mother."

  Falke and Kirill looked at her, confused.

  "You know, having five children. Being pregnant that many times," she explained.

  "We do not have the same mother." Falke frowned.

  "None of you do?" she asked.

  "Well, Jarek and Reid were born together in one birth," Kirill said.

  "Twins," Quinn clarified with an easy smile.

  "Oh, right, the harem," Ulyssa said. She let her eyes fall down. She'd never be part of such a thing. A husband with hundreds of wives? Wait. What was she thinking? She wouldn't be one wife to one husband.

  "By All That Is Sacred!" A shout sounded from the kitchen area followed by a roar of anger and a wave of black smoke. "So help me, if you weren't King...!"

  The rest of the insult was muffled. Quinn and Kirill laughed. Even the stoic Falke's lip gave a little twitch, though he stayed rigid in his chair.

  "Reid!" Kirill hollered. Ulyssa jumped in surprise at the sound and turned to look at him. His serious tone didn't match his playful features. He winked at her. "That better not be my dinner."

  "I'll tell ... what you ... dinner ... you ... royal pain...." was Reid's muttered response. There was a loud crash, followed by a series of bangs. Reid stormed from the kitchen holding two drinks.

  Prince Reid was dark featured and moved with the steady grace of his brothers. Muscles formed his body and he carried them proudly, as if he expected women to swoon at his feet. Stopping in front of his brother, he blinked in surprise as he openly checked Ulyssa out.

  Slowly, he handed the two goblets to Kirill. Then, a devilish grin curling his features, he said, "Welcome, my lady."

  "Back off Reid," Falke demanded, his voice full of warning. "I can smell your pheromones from here. She's the King's woman."

  Reid's brow rose and Ulyssa had the distinct impression the look of masculine invitation was meant to aggravate Kirill more than entice her. She felt Kirill stiffen next to her. A hand came possessively to her elbow and she just couldn't help herself, as she murmured huskily, "My pleasure, Prince Reid."

  Ulyssa offered her hand to him, her eyes narrowing, daring him to keep it up. Reid pulled back in surprise and hesitated, obviously not expecting her to respond so carelessly to him. He glanced at Kirill and slowly took her hand in his. He held it briefly before letting go. Reid backed away. Though his smile faded, his eyes lit with curious mischief.

  Ulyssa turned to give Kirill an innocent smile. His eyes searched her face and she let nothing show. Her heart sped as she detected a hint of jealousy in his gaze.

  "So, I believe there's one more?" she questioned.

  "Jarek is out exploring the galaxies," Quinn answered behind her back. "We don't expect him back any time soon."

  Ulyssa broke eye contact to turn to him. Teasingly, she said, "Well, it would appear he's the lucky one."

  "My lady?" Quinn asked.

  "Well, by the smell of it, we'll be starving tonight."

  Three of the brothers started to laugh, even Falke. Reid rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, very amusing, my lady, very amusing."

  * * * *

  The meal Reid prepared was bad. No, it was worse than bad. It was completely inedible. The roast, or what had once been a roast, was charred to resemble a large, black rock. Only too happily did the brothers catapult it off the long balcony carved into the second level of the home. The roast launched, hit a tree and, inflicting more damage to the bark than to itself, plummeted to the forest floor with a resounding thud. Rich, masculine laughter rang over the forest as birds squawked and flew away in protest.

  Luckily, Quinn had smuggled a basket from the palace when he came. It was filled with cold meat and a creamy cheese-like dip. Dipping chucks of meat into the cheese, they ate in the living room, lounging in relaxation as they talked. No one treated Ulyssa like an outsider, as they told stories of their childhood growing up in the palace.

  Ulyssa found the Princes
to be very charming, even Falke though he hardly smiled. As she watched him, she saw a more subtle movement to his features--mainly in his steady gaze. He had more emotion than his brothers seemed to give him credit for. Over the course of the evening, she felt guilty for giving him a hard time. From what she could tell, he got enough harassment from his brothers that he didn't need it from her too.

  ".…so Falke was covered in mud from head to toe," Reid said, laughing hard as he told another of his endless list of boyhood stories. It was obvious he'd been the proud instigator in many of the incidences. "We must have been what--?"

  "Fifteen to twenty years," Quinn supplied.

  Hearing Kirill laugh next to her, she peeked from under her lashes at him. His laugh was deep and rich. The mere sound of it gave her chills. It was a Kirill she hadn't seen at the palace. Here, with his family, he was almost serene.

  "Anyway, here's Falke covered in mud and the Lithorian Ambassadors are on their way. Mind you, he's set to be the official greeter when they arrive. The King was very rigid on the point that they must be pleased in every way. Well, why we were dousing Falke in mud, Quinn sneaks into his bedroom and steals all his clothes." Reid laughed harder. Gasping for breath, he said, "The only thing left him was a dress Quinn stole from the harem."

  "They believed it was ceremonial garb," Falke grumbled, trying to keep a stern face. "I had to wear it every year they came for ten years."

  Ulyssa burst with laughter, imagining the stoic Falke in a dress.

  "It's a good thing too, or else they might have stopped trading with us," Kirill said. "The King would've put Falke in the dungeon if that happened."

  "And what do they trade?" Ulyssa asked.

  Reid laughed harder. "Chocolate."

  "Chocolate?" Ulyssa repeated in disbelief.

  "King Attor had a sweet tooth," Kirill explained, as if it made perfect sense.

  Ulyssa hid her frown. A father who would lock up his son for ruining a trade agreement over chocolate? She liked the dead King less and less. How hard it must've been for them, growing up with such an emotionally vacant man as a father. She imagined it would have been worse than her childhood--with no father at all.