“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” he said into her breast, moving to flick her other nipple with his tongue.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” she demanded, stiffening. She rounded her eyes in horror as if he’d hit her. Moving her leg along his side, she tried to buck him from her body. Her eyes became moist, and she blinked to keep from crying out in dismay and embarrassment. She struck him repeatedly along his waist with her thigh. He grunted at the discomfort but did not stop his mouth’s onslaught.
Kirill rose up coming to her lips. His leg trapped hers down, burning into her with his thick arousal. An arm wound its way to her thigh to hold it still so she couldn’t strike again. She suddenly became aware of just how strong the man-cats really were.
Kissing her until she was thoroughly breathless, he pulled back. Contemplatively, he brushed back her golden hair and asked softly, “What happened to the confident woman who would dare defy a king?”
Her throat worked nervously, she couldn’t move. His eyes stared at her, confident and sure and so in control. It seemed to her as if he didn’t feel the passion at all. Yet, there was tenderness in him too, and that made her nervous. She ignored his softer side, concentrating on being angry and hurt.
“Get off,” she growled. “We’re done here.”
“That’s not what you wish,” he stated, self-assured.
Ulyssa frowned. Damn him if he wasn’t right.
“The nef you drank, which made you feel such great uncontrolled passion, gives me the restraint I need to see to your pleasure first. In doing so, I will increase mine.” Kirill stopped to kiss her again before moving to rim her ear with his tongue. Nibbling a tender lobe, he continued, “That’s why I can’t lose control. It has nothing to do with your many charms. The nef controls the beast within my kind. That’s why we drink it, to temper ourselves back.”
Ulyssa frowned, not liking his unfair advantage. She wanted him to be as frantic and needy as she was. Though, his explanation did mend her wounded pride.
“If my drinking of it displeases you, Lyssa, I won’t partake before coming to you in the future,” Kirill said.
Ulyssa tensed. Very carefully, so there was no mistake, she said, “This night is it, Kirill. There will be no in the future.”
Kirill moved his hips to settle between hers in a graceful slide. She shivered as his searing heat neared her delicate opening. She was ready for him, so ready. Her body released cream at his nearness.
“Is that a challenge?” he asked, a bold smile on his firm lips.
“No,” she shot, glad that her voice came out strong and sure. “It’s a fa—ahhhct.”
Kirill thrust forward as she spoke, cutting off her words as he embedded his shaft deep inside her. Her eyes widened in amazement as his lips found the pulse at her neck. He nipped her skin, holding still as he let her tight body adjust to him.
Ulyssa was no untried virgin, and yet tears of pleasure-pain stung her eyes. Her lips parted, gasping in surprise. All logical arguments left her until all she could think about was that he was larger than she’d first thought.
“Do you hurt?” he asked, his voice impassioned, when she held still. His tone was concerned, but his lips didn’t stop their achingly torturous movement against her flesh.
She shot forward, forgetting everything as she turned her mouth to capture his. She kissed him hard and long, moaning in pleasure. He growled into her mouth, and she breathed in the sound of it. Her hips moved, urging him to thrust.
To her surprise, he slid deeper still until his hips were seated flush against hers. Every fiber inside her being reached for him. She arched, pressing her stomach and breasts to rub against his heat. He moved, slowly at first, as he worked his body in a tantalizingly precise rhythm against her. He took it easy, driving his rigid shaft in shallow thrusts until she got used to his size.
Fire and tension pooled in her hips, stoked to a fevered pitch. Her cries of pleasure joined his softer grunts, as she squirmed for more. She tried to hook a leg around his back. With a growl, he grabbed it and slung her knee over his shoulder, opening her wider to him. The tempo of his hips built, faster, harder, digging into her, rocking in and out of her warmth in long strokes until they pushed against each other in searching need.
Kirill lifted up. She watched his muscles, swimming erotically beneath his skin. He was perhaps the most beautiful man she’d ever seen, rugged yet refined. His dark hair tickled her breasts. Her arms strained. She wanted desperately to touch him, but her bonds were too tight.
“Oh, my, Kirill!” Ulyssa screamed into the bedroom as she neared her rocky climax. Suddenly, an earthquake let loose inside her skin, and she shook with the force of it. Her whole body tensed, helpless against the tides of passion.
Kirill’s yell joined hers, just as loud and violent as he too stiffened. He froze like a glorious statue above her, his body tight, his mouth opened wide, the cords of his neck strained. Her passage clenched him, spurring on his release, milking the seed from his body.
As the tremors subsided, Kirill fell forward. His elbows braced his weight, so he didn’t crush her. Playfully, he licked her cheek before rolling off her. Within seconds, he had her hands untied and was massaging the feeling back into them.
Ulyssa watched him, weak and in awe of his gentle strength. He said nothing as he dropped her hands and pulled her into his chest. He held her to him, curled intimately around her naked body.
She felt the hard length of him pressed protectively to her skin. Her head nestled onto the crook of his arm, and her back stretched along his muscular frame. His knees bent forward into the backs of hers. A strong arm draped over her waist, and his fingers wrapped possessively around her soft breast, over her heart. She’d never been protected before, not even as a child. It was a strange sensation, one she didn’t want to dwell on.
Ulyssa felt Kirill’s breath deepen in sleep. She shivered, staring out over the dimly lit bedroom to the closet door. She knew that the balcony was there, beyond the window. She wondered if she could use it to escape. Never had she just slept beside a man once she’d gotten what she wanted out of him.
Her heart beat fiercely against his warm palm, pounding so intensely it kept her awake. But, great sex or no, she would never be a king’s whore. A strange ache built in the pit of her stomach. He was by far the best lover she’d ever had.
The next morning, Ulyssa stole some clothes from Kirill’s closet and slipped from his house well before dawn. The palace halls were quiet as she made her way. She was still lost, but the idea of being trapped forever within the palace as a mistress stiffened her resolve to escape. She would belong to no man, even if that man were a king.
10
Kirill stretched his arms over his head, arching his back against the mattress. With a half- smile forming on his lips, he sighed in contentment and reached over to pull the warm female body back into his embrace. He’d slept better than he had in a long time and the nightmares that plagued him since his father’s death were gone. He felt great.
His hand met with the empty expanse of sheets causing the smile to fade from his features. Frowning, one dark eye opened to follow his hand. He rolled on his side to search the bedroom for Ulyssa. She was gone.
“Lyssa,” he murmured lightly, sitting up. His voice was hoarse from sleep, and he cleared his throat, only to call louder, “Lyssa?”
Kirill’s body was ready for her, as was evident by the heavy protrusion beneath the sheet. A growl grew steadily in his throat as he leaped out of bed. He frantically checked his closet and balcony, then his home. She had truly left him.
Scratching his naked stomach, he looked down at his erection in disappointment. The knot of stress again came to his shoulders, settling all the way down his spine. His eyes darkened as he strode into the closet. The last thing he needed was his mistress, a woman marked by his very potent scent, roaming alone about the palace declaring that she is unattached. For Kirill had no doubt Ulyssa would insist on
trying to leave him. Such scandal wouldn’t bode well for his reign. The Var prided themselves in many things, not the least of which was being able to please a woman in bed. If a king, a man of supposed great power and even greater wisdom, couldn’t keep a woman happy longer than one night… Well, it would be disastrous.
Kirill didn’t want to think about it. He hurriedly dressed in a light tunic and pants. He then slid leather boots over his feet. They reached up his calves. Pulling the shirt laces tight, he walked out of his home.
Once in the hallway, he looked in both directions only to find them empty. “Siren, find Lyssa...uh, make that Ulyssa.”
He only had to wait for a brief moment, before the castle’s mainframe answered in a sultry female voice that dripped of seduction, “No record of an Ulyssa, my lord.”
Kirill grimaced. He wasn’t sure there would be, but it had been worth a try. Her DNA had yet to be programmed into the castle’s central computer, so it was impossible to track her exact location electronically.
He started to walk away, only to stop. Going back to his home, he rushed to his bedroom and scanned the sheets. He found a strand of red-blonde on the pillow and took it. Going back to the hall, he pressed a series of tiles on the circular pattern in the wall. The tiles didn’t move as he touched them. But, as he finished and pulled his hand away, the whole center circle pulled into the wall to reveal a screen.
Pressing a button, he lightly set Ulyssa’s hair into the tray that slid out. Smiling, he said, “Siren, meet Lyssa.”
“Lyssa recorded, my lord,” the computer answered in a tone that dripped of honey and almost sounded like a pout. “Security clearance?”
Kirill thought of that and finally said, “Ten.”
“Prisoner class, my lord? Would you like me to notify the guards that she is not in her cell?”
“Ah, no, Siren, better make that a, uh, eight clearance.” Kirill grimaced slightly. She’d have freedom to roam the palace but wouldn’t be able to make it outside the building without him being notified.
“Very good, my lord, Lyssa stored.”
“Now, Siren, find Lyssa for me,” Kirill stated again, pressing a button to retract the computer and return the wall to normal.
“Lyssa is outside the royal office, my lord, and does not appear to be moving. Door sensors are picking up a vibration. The lock is being tampered with. The palace guards have been notified and are en route.”
Kirill took off running in the direction of the royal office before Siren finished. Her voice followed him as he moved down the hall. He frowned. Why would Ulyssa try to go there? Was it possible the woman was a Draig spy? After what King Attor had done to the Draig royal family, he wouldn’t blame them for taking the offensive. But, even if he understood, he couldn’t allow it. He had a duty to protect his people, even if that meant fighting in a war he didn’t personally believe in. If Ulyssa was a spy, the Draig had definitely chosen her well.
Kirill didn’t know why it irritated him to think that she’d only slept with him out of deceit, but it did. He didn’t wish to delve too deeply into the feeling. She was rare, that was all—a mystery, a diversion, a good bed partner.
Well, if he was honest with himself, she was more than just good in bed. She’d been phenomenal. Just thinking of it made him run faster to find her.
“You stupid hairball, get off me!”
Kirill quickly suppressed his grin as he rounded the corner. Falke held Ulyssa tightly in his grasp from behind, as she continued to spout profanities at the great commander. A dozen soldiers surrounded the pair, appearing confused.
“What? Scared little kitty cat needs all these warriors to help him out? Can’t take out a single girl on his own?” she taunted.
Falke’s eyes looked over Ulyssa’s shoulder to his brother. She jerked up, kicking out at one of the staring guards. He took a step back rather than touch her. The men looked to the king for guidance. Kirill knew they didn’t wish to lay a hand on his mistress without permission.
Falke gave what Kirill knew to be the closest thing he had to a smile and nodded in approval. Kirill grimaced. Trust Falke to approve of a woman acting like a harpy.
Ulyssa’s wide blue eyes landed on him, and he felt a spark of electricity shoot through his core. She again wore his clothes. He didn’t like her taking them without permission, but damned if she didn’t look sexy all the same. She shook with a renewed force. Falke tightened his grip. She yelped in pain and instantly stopped struggling.
“Kir…” she began, only to correct herself. “My lord, would you mind telling this oaf of yours to get off me!”
The guards gasped at her hard tone. Falke’s breath caught behind her back. Kirill’s brows furrowed together, as he looked at her in displeasure.
Ulyssa’s eyes darted around at the men. She visibly swallowed only to add, “Ah, please, Your Royal…Highness...sir.”
Kirill sighed and affected a bored, unconcerned pose. His arms crossed over his chest, and he looked down his nose at her. “You must forgive her. My little mistress likes to play games.”
The men looked at him expectantly. Ulyssa’s mouth fell open, and he rushed on to keep her from talking.
“She so wanted to be hunted as my prey. I couldn’t help but indulge her whim.” Kirill stepped forward to leisurely run the back of his knuckles over her cheek and down her throat. Her eyes narrowed in warning just as he was about to dip to a breast. He somehow knew she wouldn’t take kindly to being groped in public. A part of him willed his hand to continue, but he was too wise to press his luck. She was being quiet. He wouldn’t give her cause to start screaming.
Kirill felt the jealous eyes of the guards on them. Ulyssa was a beautiful woman and bold enough to fire any Var’s blood. But, the fact that she liked to tease his animal nature said much about her wildness between the sheets, and this excited them, too. The ancient hunter in them, long suppressed by their societal codes, always drifted beneath the surface waiting for an excuse to play. It was part of the reason they drank nef, to calm the inner beast.
“I should’ve warned her to stay within my section of the palace,” he continued, not holding her gaze for long. He motioned his hand to the guards. “You may go. I’ll reprimand her in private.”
Ulyssa’s heart raced in her chest, more from seeing Kirill than being captured by his brother. She felt his nearness and wanted him again. His hair was handsomely disheveled about his shoulders, making him look wild and incredibly sexy. Her breasts were only too eager to remind her how the silken locks felt brushing against them. To her shame, her nipples puckered against her stolen top. She glanced down briefly and, when she looked back up, Kirill stared at the treacherous little buds.
She quietly watched the guards bow and leave her alone with Falke and Kirill. The mighty king still stared at her chest when she turned back to him, and she cleared her throat to get his attention. His dark eyes flashed to hers, glittering with a golden promise. Her stomach fluttered, and she couldn’t move. His look said he wanted her. His lips parted as if he could already taste her. There was possession in his eyes, possessiveness over her. She felt him in her head, heard his low voice, a quiet murmur she couldn’t make out. Shivering, she struggled anew.
“Tell your oaf of a brother to let me go!”
Kirill nodded at Falke that it was all right. Falke loosened his hands. Her elbow instantly wrenched back to slam into her captor’s tight midsection. She yelped in pain, catching the elbow to her chest and cradling it. The commander’s breath caught, but he didn’t double over like she’d planned.
Tearing away from them, Ulyssa glared accusingly as she rubbed her injured arm. “You’re lucky—”
“Siren, unlock the royal office please,” Kirill interrupted softly.
The door instantly unlatched and swung open. Kirill walked into the royal office, ignoring Ulyssa’s outburst. She growled and stormed in after him. Falke shut the door behind her and left them alone. She wondered if he kept guard.
The royal office was much like the rest of the palace, with the same beautiful tile work on the walls and the same medieval castle feel to the structure. A large barren fireplace was dwarfed by the even larger sidewall. Long banners hung on either side of it. A long, woven rug of red and blue lay on the floor. Its intricate pattern was perhaps the loveliest she’d ever seen. Next to the rug were large chairs, so deep they’d nearly swallow her in comfort if she were to use them. On the opposite wall, there was a long, empty stone desk and more chairs, a couch, more rugs and tile patterned designs.
Ulyssa ignored the beauty of the stately room. When she looked at the desk, Kirill was leaning against it, his arms crossed over his chest. A leisurely smile arched on his features, and he made no qualms about looking her over with his heated gaze.
“How dare you treat me like that in front of your men!” Ulyssa’s words came out in a hiss, and her eyes narrowed to shoot daggers. “I don’t belong to you and I’m most certainly not your mistress! And did you actually say I like being your prey?”
“You are my mistress.” Kirill stayed calm, unmoving, seemingly unaffected.
“I am not,” she assured him. “I belong to no man, especially not some chest-thumping savage king! I’m warning you Kirill, either you let me go or I’ll—”
“Regardless of what you call yourself, you must stay here as my woman.” Kirill sighed. “I marked you last night. All the men smell me on you. Your position in my home is being announced as we speak. Falke will see to that because castle security is his duty.”
“Listen,” she broke in, raising her finger at him to emphasize her point, “just because we had some great sex, doesn’t mean you own me or that I’m going to fall over panting at your heels.”
“You really have no choice, Lyssa. My mark binds you to me. I will be able to find you if you run.” Kirill lowered his jaw and gave her a meaningful look. “There is no escape.”
The Savage King Page 7
