Shifter Fated Mates: Boxed Set

by Mandy M. Roth

  * * * *

  One week later

  “We can’t make peace with the Draig! They are our enemies!”

  At the sound of his brother’s hard voice, Prince Kirill of the Var looked up from where he’d been studying his hands. The stresses of the last several days lined his eyes—eyes that were so dark of a brown they were often mistaken for black. He held still, not moving from the chair he rested in.

  The old council hall was empty, except for Kirill and three of his brothers. Deep set, antique, cushioned chairs were set around a large, intricately carved fireplace. A fire burned brightly, giving the tomblike room light and warmth. Long pillows lined the red-carpeted floor. There were no windows in the old section of the castle, not even a little slit. As young boys, they had made the room their private fort. Now that they were older, they still convened there to relax and talk in private. The air was stuffy and unmoving, but the four Princes were too preoccupied to notice such things.

  Falke, the Commander of the Guards, sat to Kirill’s left. His stiff body was unmoving in its rigid discipline. Falke commanded the warriors at the castle and was in charge of the military. After a half century of command, he’d become hard and unforgiving.

  Falke’s counterpart and their younger brother, Reid, was Commander of the Outlands. Reid spent his days away from the palace, watching over the northern borders. Reid had a twin brother, Jarek, whom they hadn’t heard from in some time. Jarek was off gallivanting around the galaxies. The twins were the only Princes with the same mother.

  On the floor lounged Quinn, the youngest and sleekest of the Princes. His smaller stature had come in handy on many occasions. As boys, they’d fit him into tight spaces, making him the lookout or spy, depending on what mischief they were about.

  “At least let us convene the old houses and vote!” Falke continued in his forbidding tone, breaking into Kirill’s contemplation. Kirill took a deep breath. He couldn’t blame Falke for his anger. The Commander had seen many battles with the Draig warriors and thus had seen the most Var deaths.

  “And you, Quinn?” Kirill asked.

  “I see the merit of both war and peace,” Quinn answered in his quiet voice.

  “Some ambassador you are,” Reid laughed, throwing the cushion from behind his back to where Quinn lay on the floor. Quinn grinned and tucked the cushion behind his head to replace his folded arms.

  Falke directed a frown to Kirill at the banter, his eyes begging for order. “I’ll send more guards to the Outlands. We should make sure the borders are well guarded. If there is to be a battle, let it be away from our city.”

  Reid nodded. His smile faded slightly from his tanned features. “That would be wise. There has been no trouble in the shadowed marshes, not since father tried to kidnap Prince Yusef’s bride.”

  At the mention to King Attor, the Princes grew silent. Their father had harbored no love for the Draig and each knew he’d been the main cause of war in the past. Solemn eyes turned to the fire, as each Prince remembered watching their father’s body burn at the burial rite.

  Attor had not been a loving man, but he was still their father. They were royalty and royalty had no time for love or weaknesses. As the late King was fond of saying, Kingdoms are only as strong as their rulers. The Draig are weak and so the Var Empire will rise.

  “Have you contacted Jarek and told him?” Kirill asked Reid.

  “No, but I have sent messages through secure lines. It’s hard to tell where he has gone off to. Last I heard he was on Tragon, but that was about six months ago.” Reid shrugged. Then, to break the somber mood, he teased, “So brother, when you’re crowned King, will you be keeping the lovely women in the harem for yourself?”

  Kirill frowned, rolling his eyes. “Father collected women as Falke here collects weaponry. I have no idea what to do with them all. I have no wish for a lifemate, let alone several half-mates.”

  All Princes nodded in firm agreement. None of them looked to commit themselves to a woman—ever. Why bond to one when you could have many?

  “According to law, they are your responsibility,” Quinn said softly, chuckling.

  Kirill shot him a defiant glare and growled. Quinn laughed harder, unconcerned. Sighing, Kirill gave up his feigned anger, lounged back in his chair, and threw a leg over the side. “I tried to give them freedom, but half of them didn’t want to leave the palace. The other half has nowhere to go. And the crazy one, Taura, wanted me to bind her to father’s corpse so that she may burn with him.”

  “It’s the Roane way,” Falke said, in defense of his birth mother. The other Princes just laughed. Taura was partly the reason Falke was so serious. Whereas all the others had the blood of Var and human in them, Falke was half Roane. The Roane were a naturally bold, hard people with strict discipline and rigid ideals. Taura had passed those traits to her son. As children, when the boys were playing and getting into mischief, Falke had been training to be a warrior.

  “Ah, I suppose I’ll have to at least meet with them all. How many could there be? Fifty?” Kirill asked.

  “A hundred and sixty three, brother, by my last count,” Quinn laughed. “Give or take a few dozen.”

  “It almost makes you respect our father, doesn’t it?” Reid stood from his chair and stretched, prompting the others to do the same.

  “The late King always had respect. It was the other emotions he had little use for,” Kirill answered. With a thoughtful look upon his face, he strode from the old council hall, leaving his brothers to watch after him in wonder.

  * * * *

  Ulyssa grimaced, furiously shaking her head at the woman who tried to hand her a near transparent gown of black and silver. She looked warily over the line of young women already dressed in similar outfits. It had been nearly a week since her capture and the barbaric King had yet to keep his word and come back for her. It was really too bad, she had a few punches she’d like to give to him, right before she ripped off his precious manhood.

  Ulyssa sighed. She knew it was actually better that he hadn’t come for her. Killing a king would not look good on her resume, and it might hamper her escape. She highly doubted the barbaric Var would give her a fair trial. She grinned. She highly doubted she could win a fair trial in such a case. Murder was murder, after all, and no crime would be more premeditated than the death of King Attor by her hand—for that was all she thought about while trapped in her silken prison.

  “I am not dressing up like a doll for any man,” Ulyssa said to the woman, enunciating her words.

  When Attor said he had a harem, he hadn’t been lying. She could only hope he’d forget about her long enough for her to break out of the lush prison. Scratching behind her ear, she again shook her head, widening her blue eyes at the persistent woman. She turned her back in dismissal. The woman finally gave up and left her alone.

  Ulyssa wore tight black pants and a black tank top. They were both hers, thankfully salvaged from when she arrived. They’d taken everything else, including her communicator and gun. At least they’d let her use a decontaminator. That was something, even if they had been checking her for diseases.

  From the looks of the preening women, they expected company. Ulyssa didn’t plan on sitting around and waiting for that company to arrive. Leisurely, she made her way around the room to a long buffet table. Picking at the food, she quickly ate. Then, grabbing up a goblet, she drank deeply of the wine. She’d have preferred hard liquor, but was happy that it was at least alcohol. No matter where she went in the galaxies, every race had some version of liquor.

  “Getting drunk, the galactic pastime of champions,” she mumbled under her breath with a small laugh of self-amusement.

  The harem was just what she would have expected one to look like—silk and satin, pillows and furs, a water fountain in the center surrounded by fruit trees and yellow ferns. The floors were checkered gray and white tiles, constructed from a marbled stone.

  It took Ulyssa awhile to place where she’d seen the like befo
re, but it finally hit her that the palace looked much like the old Moroccan architecture on Earth. She’d seen the ruins once as a young girl and had been fascinated by their intricate patterns. However, there was also a definite medieval castle influence at play within the basic structure.

  There was an aviary in the center of the room where a loud sofliar sang some sad song—nonstop, over and over again, until Ulyssa wanted to wring its feathery little neck. She’d read historical documents about such places as harems on Earth, long ago. She’d never thought she’d live to see the set up firsthand.

  Ulyssa eyed the women in disgust as she took another bite. She was again trapped with simpering females who did nothing all day but primp and preen, as they waited for one man to come and choose them for sex. She couldn’t say they were worse than the women on the Galaxy Brides ship, but they were just as pathetic.

  Ugh, no thank you!

  The harem just proved once more how barbaric a planet Qurilixen really was. She was a little amazed to know they had the capability for space travel. Yet, they chose not to employ the finer technological advances in life and instead opted for a simplistic existence.

  Probably because the women would learn they didn’t have to be a man’s prisoner should they be allowed access to technology and knowledge, or at least a spaceship. Better to leave them locked up like that accursed sofliar—ugh, stop singing already bird!

  She’d been all over the galaxies and had seen many things. The Var people were still too primitive a race for her liking, but their talent for art and design had to be admired. Never one to slow down and look at the finer things in life, Ulyssa was amazed to find herself staring often at the intricate carvings over the arched doorways leading from the harem, or the particularly beautiful, symmetrical patterns of brilliantly displayed colors—blue, red, orange, gold, green—inlaid into the walls. A particular circular design was quite dizzying when stared at too closely. She blinked, reaching out to touch the bumpy surface in fascination.

  The imprisonment would have been bearable to Ulyssa if she still had a mission. She functioned much better when she had a purpose to occupy her thoughts and keep her busy. Now her only goal was to escape her prison and wait three months for a ship to come pick her up. Good thing she had a back up communicator at her camp or the ship would never be able to locate her. She was deep cover and that meant no body transmitters. They were too easy to find in a full body scan.

  Thinking about her situation, she frowned. With her camp under cloak, it might take three months just to find the site. She’d been unconscious when carted to the Var palace, and she had no idea in which direction to start walking. The dire prospect of her situation didn’t faze her. In fact, it did quite the opposite. It excited her beyond measure.

  Seeing the opening she’d been waiting for, she watched as the harem guard helped a servant carry in a large tray of what looked like roasted swine. As they grunted and strained under the heavy weight, Ulyssa slipped behind their backs and out the door without notice.

  If luck stayed with her, all the halls would be empty and she wouldn’t be forced to fight any of the man-cats. Not that she was too scared to try. They might be able to subdue her in a group, but if it was one on one, then she was sure she could take them down.

  The long hallway walls of the Var palace were smooth and inlaid with intricate tile mosaics. The hallway itself was empty. She grinned, feeling her blood stir at the hint of danger. Adrenaline pumped into her veins, electrifying her as nothing else could. Without pausing to look around, she sprinted down the hall and took the first corner she came to. Escape had never been easier.

  Chapter Two

  Ulyssa continued down the hallways, rounding several more turns. She blindly tried to navigate her way to something that would give her a hint of how to escape the palace. The halls were like a maze and she soon realized she was lost within them.

  Hearing a noise behind her and fearing it might be the Var harem guard, she slipped around a corner to hide. Almost instantly, she crashed into a warm, firm chest. Ulyssa jerked back in surprise, just as two strong hands clamped about her arms like a vice.

  “Relax,” a voice said. The dark, rich sound sent chills down her spine, erupting beneath her flesh in spurts of sensitive longing. Every inch of her tingled. She fought for breath. The man chuckled, a seductively low sound, and asked, “Where do you think you’re going?”

  Ulyssa jerked, turning around with a defiant scowl. Her mouth opened, ready to do battle with whatever manner of creature dared to touch her. As her gaze met two dark, very curious eyes, she froze. Her heart nearly stopped beating in her chest. She couldn’t breathe, could barely think. Desire, hot and liquid, shot over her at the sight of the handsome man who held her. Never had her body reacted with such fierce awareness, as to be struck both deaf and dumb.

  Dark stubble shadowed the man’s chiseled jaw, matching the long black hair that spilled down over his broad shoulders. He was perfectly built, not too broad and not too thin. Even motionless, she could tell he’d move with the liquid grace of his kind. There was something slow and seductive in the way the Var carried themselves—like hunters crouched, ready to attack, stalking their prey. She’d seen the athletic quality in all the warriors, but never did the prospect of being their prey excite her until that very moment.

  Black leather bands with silver studs gripped tight to his biceps and wrists, secured taut on both of his arms. His shirt appeared to be one piece of material with two narrow straps over the shoulders. It was held together by black cross lacing beneath his arms, leaving his sides and waist exposed.

  Ulyssa nearly swooned as torrid images swirled in her head. He didn’t wear the tunic of the guards, so she wasn’t worried about him arresting her and dragging her back to Attor. In fact, she wasn’t worried about anything at all for the moment. Unbidden, her eyes continued down, over his frame. He didn’t move to stop her, didn’t shake her arm to get her attention. Unconscious of the action, she licked her lips, suddenly famished for male attention.

  His pants were of the same material as the shirt, soft, yet molding to his firm, delicious body. A belt matched the armband, clinging around his narrow waist. More cross lacing reached from the knee, over the outside length of his thighs, leaving no indentation of firm muscle to the imagination, as it revealed tanned flesh all the way up his hip. She flexed her fingers, itching to reach forward, to dip beneath the material to feel him.

  A low rumbling sound broke into Ulyssa’s thoughts. She blinked in surprise, having nearly forgotten where she was, what she’d been doing. Before she could think to protest, her captor pulled her forward into his muscled chest and pressed her back into the wall.

  The stone along her spine was cold, making a strange contrast to the hard heat of him along her thin frame. She gasped, feeling trapped by his body. His thick arousal grew between them, unmistakable in its desire. The pressure sparked a very liquid reaction inside her loins. Her nipples puckered hard against her shirt, tingling as her hastened breath caused them to rub along his chest. Ulyssa shivered, her head screaming to fight and run. She couldn’t move. A euphoric trance held her in its web, drowning out reason.

  “When a woman looks at a man with that much invitation, who is he to deny her?” he said in a low, rumbling tone. Passion made his words sound hoarse. Warm breath fanned over her cheek, causing her to shiver in anticipation.

  The man boldly moved against her and Ulyssa felt the all too real press of his desire rocking gently into her hip. She felt his heat to her breasts, further budding her nipples into hard, beckoning points. As she looked up into his deep-set eyes, eyes that swirled with amber flecks within the darkened sea of brown-black, she knew she was in trouble.

  Prince Kirill tried to take a deep breath in a vain effort to make his body pull away from the soft woman he held trapped against the wall. He couldn’t make his limbs obey. Every nerve screamed at him to continue. His body was stiff with the stress of many days. It had been a long whi
le since he’d had a woman, even longer since he’d had a woman so lovely as this creature before him.

  She had yet to speak with words. But what she didn’t say with her voice, she more than screamed with her wide, blue eyes—eyes that were dark, eyes that sparkled with the stars of deep space. He could see how a man could easily get lost in her gaze. She was the most beautiful vision he’d ever seen. His whole length trembled, ready to answer the primitive call of her body to his.

  Her hair was a peculiar shade of blonde and red, pulled back from her face into a bun that rested neatly above the long nape of her neck. He itched to pull the locks free, but he held back. Glancing down over her toned body, he growled in pleasure.

  A thought flickered in his head as he wondered who she was, what she was doing alone walking unescorted in his section of the palace. As her lips parted, the thought fled and he didn’t care. He needed to release the tension from his body, the hard throbbing ache in his loins. His heart pumped hard in his chest, swirling lust into every limb. He was ready to claim her. It would be easy to pin her to the wall and have his way with her right there in the empty hallway. He would too, if she’d but allow him. The women of the harem could wait.

  Suddenly, reason returned to him. “Are you one of Attor’s?”

  The woman blinked, looking momentarily stunned. She slowly shook her head in denial. In a low, throaty tone, she whispered, “No.”

  Kirill groaned, feeling the moist heat of her desire radiating from her thighs. He believed her. She wasn’t dressed like the harem women. Her eyes dipped to his mouth just as her tongue edged along her bottom lip in invitation. He pushed his body more firmly against her. Letting her feel the full length of his arousal, he rocked his hips, grinding along her clothing. A slow, seductive smile curled on his mouth as he invited her to his kiss with the simple lifting of his jaw. To his great pleasure, she leaned in, accepting his offered mouth without hesitation. Her lips were warm, soft, and when she tilted them in offering, she moaned ever so lightly.