Kirill knew many of the elders wanted him to attack the Draig, to kill off the royal family and avenge his father's death and, on a smaller level, the death of Brouse. Part of him wanted the same thing. It was his father, after all, who'd fallen to the sword. But, Kirill was King now and had to look above his own needs, his own desires. He had to do what was right for his people.
Kirill had never believed in Attor's wars. He believed there could be peace between the Var and the Draig. He'd not ruin that slim chance of peace to avenge a man who'd provoked the battle to begin with. He'd not risk his reign on a temperamental woman who'd be leaving him in a few short months--no matter how sexy he found her, not matter how much his body wanted her these last weeks, no matter how many thoughts she occupied in his brain.
Going into the royal office, he began to pace. "Siren, where's Lyssa?"
"Lyssa is in your home, my lord," the computer's sultry voice answered, as it did every time he asked her.
He asked the computer several times during the morning and afternoon and always it was the same. She is in your home, my lord. To Kirill's surprise, she'd honored his decree and had not left his home for the full two weeks. He knew it had to be killing her, being locked indoors.
"What is she doing?" Kirill asked, swallowing almost nervously.
"She's not moving, my lord. Performing scan." There was a short pause, before Siren answered, "Health status fine. She appears to be asleep, my lord."
Kirill sighed heavily, leaving the office. As he came through the door, he ordered, "Siren, lock up."
"Yes, my lord," the computer said. The door latched behind him.
Kirill started to walk home, only to hesitate and stop. A sense of grim determination came over him. He needed to work Ulyssa out of his system. If he had to keep denying himself as he waited for her to come around, he'd surely cave.
Turning around, he stalked down the hallway toward the harem. A few of the women were still there. Surely one of them wouldn't be so averse to pleasuring the new King. Golden blonde-red hair and dark blue eyes instantly appeared in his mind. He was able to remember in full detail the feel of her skin, the taste of her lips. Swallowing over the lump in his throat, he knew it might just take more than one.
* * * *
Ulyssa lifted the sword and swung it around her head. She didn't know how to properly wield it, but that didn't matter to her. She needed to exercise. She needed to vent. She needed Kirill to come back home so she could prove to herself that she merely wanted to sleep with him, not love him. It was two weeks of sexual stress that put the thought in her head. She was sure of it!
After pulling her body off the floor, she'd spent the night on the couch. Not that it seemed to matter. For all she knew, Kirill had not come home. She wondered if he spent the night in the harem--had often wondered if he spent time in the harem. It was insane to believe that a man with such carnal appetites would deny himself, especially without the sexual innuendoes she let fall to tempt him into madness.
Ulyssa grunted, swinging harder so the blade sung through the air. She refused to be jealous. Her feet shuffled on the floor as she moved.
Vaguely, she recalled her train of thought right before she passed out. The next morning, when logic once more reigned over her mind, she knew that she'd probably just drank some of that nef stuff Kirill mentioned. That's why she'd felt all ... tenderhearted.
Ulyssa shivered in disgust, swinging the deadly blade again and again. Unbidden, the image of Linzi and Kirill locked in an embrace came to her and she yelled with her frustration. Only when she panted and gasped for breath, did she stop. Her arms fell limp to her sides.
Lifting the sword, she moved to place it back in the weapon's cabinet where she found it. As she let go, the door opened and she turned. Her heart leapt in her throat as she looked for Kirill.
"Falke?" she asked in surprise.
"My lady," Falke nodded. His eyes moved to look over the open cabinet. "You know how to use those?"
It took a moment for Ulyssa to get over the fact Falke spoke more than a few syllables to her, before she answered, "Ah, no, not really. I've done a little with knife combat, but nothing with swords."
Ulyssa's breath caught as she realized what she revealed. Falke gave nothing away.
As if it was no big deal, she said, "Ah, it was self-defense training that all the orphans had to take."
"Orphan?" he inquired. "I am not familiar with that word."
"Those without parents." Ulyssa was beyond feeling bad over her circumstances. She'd been raised in a girl's home for eleven years before she moved to the Agency to begin her training. "My parents died in a shuttle crash when I was a month old. I was raised in a home that takes in children who have no home or family."
"Hum," he mused.
"Are you looking for your brother?"
"No. He sent me to--"
"To check on me," she finished.
"Yes, and to see if you needed anything. Your two weeks are over."
"Need anything? You mean besides out of this house?" Ulyssa laughed.
Falke didn't move from his position in front of the open door. He nodded in approval of her. "You didn't try to escape, so are free to walk about the palace. Was there someplace particular you'd like me to lead you?"
"Just out," Ulyssa said with a grin. She felt almost giddy. It'd been two weeks since Kirill told her she had to atone. If she was caught in public, she'd break her agreement about behaving and he'd be forced to throw her in the prisons. Two weeks confinement was definitely better than being a prisoner. As far as she could tell, gilded bars at the palace were much easier to escape from than iron--if the time ever came when she needed to.
"Out," Falke repeated. He slowly nodded. "Very well. Out. Grab the sword and come. We will go out."
* * * *
'Out' consisted of an empty practice field in the center courtyard of the palace. Four walls surrounded the grassy yard, blocking it in on all sides with a covered walkway of intricate patterns and detailed mosaics. Falke had stopped first to get his own weapon, before leading her to where he'd instruct her.
Ulyssa was very much impressed with Falke's abilities. He was a patient teacher, a capable leader, and a hard commander. She admired all three qualities.
Striking a pose, he thrust the blade before him and drew it back only to pause as he waited for her to copy the move. She did and he repeated the same move several times for her to follow. They worked in silence until she did it to his satisfaction.
After about an hour, Falke turned to her and lifted his blade. "Now, do what I just showed you as I attack."
Ulyssa grinned, excited to try her new skill. With a clang of their sword, Falke stepped slowly through the motions, speeding his attack slightly by each pass until she got use to the weight of his blows.
* * * *
"Siren, find Lyssa," Kirill stated, looking up from desk to the ceiling with a weary sigh, as he stretched his neck muscles. He waited for the standard answer. She is in your home, my lord.
Kirill was tired. He'd gone to the harem, hoping to drain the tension from his body, but none of the women would touch him without his mistress's permission first. Taura, Falke's mother, had commanded the women away from him, reminding him of that little hierarchy fact.
It was just as well. It hadn't take him long to realize he didn't want anyone but Ulyssa. The realization was hard to admit, even to himself.
Kirill turned his head back down, ready to continue reading through his father's old decrees, as soon as Siren gave him the answer he desired. He frowned, realizing it was taking the computer a long time to answer.
"She is battling with Prince Falke in the courtyard," the computer's sultry tone said.
"Thank yo--what?" Kirill frowned. "Repeat Siren."
"Lyssa is battling in the courtyard with Prince Falke. My sensors detect swords, my lord."
Kirill felt his stomach lurch into his throat. He took a deep breath. Had she tried to escape him again?
Did his brother find it necessary to subdue her into staying? Did his threat to punish her cause her to want leave him? And why now after two weeks?
Kirill ran from the royal office. Falke was a great warrior. Ulyssa would be no match for his strength and skill.
Earlier, he'd sent Falke to check on her, not wanting to go home and face her himself. It had either been Falke or Reid and he didn't like the way she'd flirted with Reid when they dined at the tree home.
Kirill ran faster. He didn't like the idea of her leaving him. Over the last couple of weeks, it had given him some small measure of comfort to know she was in his home, waiting for him. Well, maybe not waiting for him, but within his reach all the same. Their evening dinners were a welcome relief to a hard day adjusting to his role as Var ruler.
Rounding the corner to the covered walkways that surrounded the courtyard, he slowed and affected an easy stride. His breath was a little heavy, not from having run half the length of the castle, but from fear that Falke would do something to Ulyssa out of duty. When it came to the law, Falke did not deviate from his responsibility, no matter what.
"Falke!" Kirill roared to see his brother attacking Ulyssa with a sword. It was a vicious blow and for a moment Kirill froze, waiting for her head to roll. To his surprise, she countered the shot, blocking it with ease.
Ulyssa blinked and stumbled back. Falke made sure she was done with her counter-attack before letting down his guard and turning to bow to his brother.
"What goes on here?" Kirill demanded, his words harsher than he intended. He couldn't bring himself to look at Ulyssa. His eyes glowered with golden rage. The anger was easier than the fear and he welcomed it.
"My order was to entertain." Turning to Ulyssa, Falke asked in his serious tone, "Are you not entertained?"
"Yes," she answered in a soft whisper. Kirill felt her eyes on him and couldn't resist the urge to look her over. A light sheen of sweat covered her body, making her glisten in the sunlight. Trails of her hair were plastered to her face and neck, falling from her neat bun. She was beautiful. His heart sped in his chest.
"Leave us," Kirill ordered, glancing back to his brother. A flood of desire invaded him as he watched her and he felt his body lurching to respond. Two weeks was too long a time to hold back from her.
Falke bowed toward them both and turned to go.
"Hey, Falke," Ulyssa called after him. The Commander turned. "Thanks."
He bowed again, letting a smile twitch the corner of his mouth, and left.
When they were alone, Ulyssa turned her wide eyes on Kirill. Her expression fell as she studied him. "Let me guess, my holding a sword is not allowed by your laws and I'm embarrassing you again. How many weeks do I get this time? Three?"
Kirill didn't speak as she moved over to him. Her eyes met boldly with his. He liked the way she looked at him, straightforward, honest. Now that he knew she was safe, he relaxed. Her hand lifted and his breath caught. Instead of touching him, she held the sword out for him to take. His fingers brushed against hers as he took the hilt.
"So am I in trouble?" Her wide blue eyes fell down toward the ground.
She's worried? Kirill was struck with the realization.
"No," he said.
"Then..." Ulyssa was obviously confused. She pulled away and he lifted a hand to her face to stop her.
"Come with me, Lyssa."
"Where are we going?" Ulyssa eyed Kirill, wondering what he was up to. He smiled slightly at her question and her heart skipped. It was clear by his stiff moments that he had been mad about Falke teaching her the sword.
"For a walk," he answered, his hand slid down over her cheek to her neck. His fingers settled against her racing pulse.
"You're taking me to the dungeon, aren't you?"
Kirill chuckled. His eyes fell to her lips and he drew the blade to the side.
"Are you going to lop off my head?"
A slow, predatory grin slid across the corner of his mouth. His fingers tightened on her throat. Ulyssa tensed, wondering at the glint in his dangerous gaze. She shivered, too frightened to move. His nearness wreaked havoc on her senses. She wanted him desperately. She forgot where she was, who they were. Nothing mattered in that moment as she gazed deeply into his dark eyes.
"Come back with me to my home," he whispered, leaning closer. The words sounded like a command.
Her lashes fluttered over her eyes. "Ask me."
His lips brushed against hers, but he didn't kiss her. His fingers glanced down her arm and he took her hand in his. He walked backwards, pulling her with him. Then, reaching the side of the courtyard, he turned and led her into the long halls of the palace. She followed in silence, entranced by him. Her eyes moved over his frame, straying too long at where the laces crossed the tight flesh of his hips. Her finger itched to touch him there, to run beneath the tight material to find his awaiting erection.
When they came to his home, he let her go and moved to hang the sword in its place. She watched him almost in a daze. He moved with stealthy purpose and fluid grace. Suddenly, she shook her head, trying to bring herself back to reality.
"I'm going to take a shower." Ulyssa edged across the living room. His dark eyes turned sharply to her, hot with desire. His arousal was large, pressing unmistakably against his pants. He wanted her. "Alone."
His gaze narrowed and his dark eyes stayed with her, tortured with his passion. Their arousal was so thick that it blanketed the air between them. "Tell me to come with you."
"Beg me to let you," she answered, meeting the challenge in him. If he didn't crumble in that moment, he never would. His jaw lifted with pride and she knew that instant, no matter how badly his body burned, he wouldn't relent. He'd never bow to her. His limbs shook and, with a force of control she'd never seen in a man, he turned and walked slowly to the bedroom.
Ulyssa had to run to the shower to get away from him before she caved to her desires and begged him to sleep with her.
"Shower on," she stated. Instantly, the water sprayed. She hurried into the shower, washing quickly in the warm water. Then, pausing, she slapped her fist hard against the tile wall. Memories of being pressed against the stall invaded her skin. She was hot for him. And, damn her pride, she wanted to give in to him. But, she also remembered his callous words.
See, it's not so bad to be controlled by a man. You didn't mind my dominance over you.
She imagined him in his room, releasing his body's tension without her and the image drove her mad. Playing dominance was one thing, but she wouldn't let him mistake her for property, a slave. She had too much pride for that. So what to do now?
"Argh!" she screeched, slamming her hand against the shower over and over as she fought her own treacherous body. Falling limp, she whispered, "Shower off."
The water stopped. She stepped out, grabbed a towel, and, walking out the door, jerked it over her wet skin. Coming to the bedroom door, she paused. He wasn't there. She stepped in and moved to the closet. Through the rectangular window, she saw him leaning on the stone and iron railings of the balcony, looking off over the distance.
She didn't think as she moved to join him. A narrow door on the side was cracked open and she ducked down to pass through. A rush came over her, not unlike that first morning waking in Kirill's home. There was something quite magical about the view, something that stirred her soul.
The cool air hit her skin, causing her to shiver. The balcony was high off the ground, jutting from the side of the palace. The dusky green-blue sky spread out before them, glistening beautifully over the distance. A majestic display of forest and mountains stretched along to the horizon, cradling a clear lake. Its glassy surface reflected the three suns. Trees lined earth like a pile of discarded emeralds. Their leaves crashed in a gentle symphony of nature.
Her eyes came around to Kirill's back. His body leaned over, supported on the rail. His long dark hair blew to the side, rolling in the wind. His perfect form called to her. He was more handsome to her than the surr
ounding landscape and she couldn't look away.
Ulyssa stepped forward, her bare feet solid on the stone floor. Her fingers whispered forward to touch his back, startling him to standing up. Hair blew over his strong features as he turned.
Brushing the silky locks off his cheek, she said, "Just ... let's call a truce."
He visibly stiffened and nodded once.
"Tell me you desire me." Ulyssa left her hand on his face, letting her fingers tangle in the silken strands of his hair.
"That much is more than obvious." His voice was low and the rich tone washed over her, making her hot for him despite the chill in the wind. Her nipples stained and hardened beneath the towel. The wind caught the edge of the material, lifting it aside to expose her thighs.
"Tell me what you want," she insisted.
"I want," Kirill hesitated. She was so lovely. He did want her. He wanted her more than he should and there was nothing he could do about it. Denial only made his longing worse. I want you, Lyssa. "I want to make love to you."
Ulyssa dropped the towel instead of answering. The wind caught it and carried it away like a bird. She darted forward and pressed her lips to his. A soft moan left them as she explored his mouth with her probing tongue.
Kirill's hands were everywhere at once, gliding over her flesh, cupping the soft globes of her backside, pulling her lower back to him so that he could rub the indention of his arousal into her heating body. It had been too long a wait. Every touch sent a shiver of molten desire through them.
Her fingers trailed over the hard muscles of his chest, running down to his belt. She pulled his waistband free. The belt fell to the stone floor before sliding off in the wind to join the towel and neither of them noticed or cared that it was lost.
The Savage King Page 12
