Shifter Fated Mates: Boxed Set

by Mandy M. Roth

  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 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.

  Setting her plate on the floor, Ulyssa didn’t think as she
leaned back on the couch next to Kirill. She slipped her body naturally by his. She felt his breath catch before his arm moved to drape possessively over her shoulder. His firm body cradled hers naturally to his side and his fingers glanced over her arm, the tips moving in a light, absentminded caress. He smelled so good. God help her, she wanted him.

  “Ah, to be so young again,” Reid laughed.

  “This couldn’t have been very long ago,” Ulyssa said, studying the brothers. “You all look hardly thirty.”

  They all laughed harder.

  “Ah, to be thirty again.” Reid sighed with much dramatics.

  Ulyssa frowned, pulling back to look at Kirill. “If he’s over thirty and you’re the oldest ... just how old are you?”

  “Ninety-eight.”

  Ulyssa’s eyes widened and she waited for him to say he was joking. “You’re kidding right.”

  “Ah, yes, he’s a young King, to be sure,” Falke said. He raised his mug, prompting Reid and Quinn to do the same. “But, he’ll be a great one.”

  “Agreed,” Quinn said, toasting.

  “Agreed.” Reid raised his glass and nodded.

  “The hour grows late. I should get you home,” Kirill said, pushing up from the couch. The statement was said with an intimacy that made Ulyssa nervous. Home. She’d never really had a home before, never really longed for one like the other kids in the orphanage. Going back. That meant a night of trying to keep herself from giving into her desire for him. Seeing the softer side of Kirill’s life wasn’t helping her resolve, nor was the insight into his father’s ways. It explained much about why he was the way he was.

  Ulyssa affected a yawn and stood. Slowly, she nodded. She didn’t like the tenderness that crept into her chest as she took Kirill’s offered arm. With quiet good-byes they took their leave.

  Quinn sighed, as the door shut behind the couple. The three Princes sat in silence for a long moment, their face drawn in thought. Thoughtfully, the youngest Var murmured, “She does something to him. She relaxes him, balances him. It’s almost strange to behold.”

  “I noticed it as well,” Reid said, not exactly smiling at the insight, but not frowning either. “It’s almost as if he carries her scent as well. But, how can that be? How can a human woman mark our kind?”

  Falke remained quiet. Quinn shrugged, not knowing the answer.

  “Did you see the possessiveness in him?” Reid asked. All three turned their serious gazes to the door, as if they could still see the couple.

  “What do you think it means?” Quinn sighed.

  Falke sat forward, bracing his elbows to his knees. His low tone crackled over the tree home. “I think it means, brothers, that our King just might have met his woman. If he’s not careful, he’ll find himself lifemated to a Queen.”

  * * * *

  The forest was dim and cast with shadows in the late hour, yet the suns still provided enough hazy light to see by. Ulyssa kicked idly at the trail with her feet as they walked. She’d dropped Kirill’s arm to walk down the front steps and hadn’t touched him since, though she desperately wanted to.

  “What is it?” Kirill asked, catching her soft eyes on him. His hands were threaded behind his back and he walked easily by her side.

  Ulyssa refused to say what she was thinking, because she was too unsure where her thoughts were leading her. So, instead, she asked, “You’re not afraid to walk alone without guards?”

  Kirill chuckled. “Should I be?”

  “Well, I mean... What if someone sent an assassin after you? Or wanted to kidnap you? Such things happen to royalty all the time. What about the Draig? Are they not a threat to you?” Ulyssa swallowed nervously, refusing to look at him, though she felt his eyes studying her intently.

  “Are you concerned about my wellbeing?” The words were soft, probing.

  She swore he drew closer to where she walked, but she didn’t look up to confirm it. Taking a deep breath, she lied, “Not really. I was just curious as to why you would risk it. You could be ambushed.”

  “I can defend myself,” he answered, a bit hard. “There’s no reason for me to hide in the palace. The Kings before me did not hide and neither shall I.”

  “I’m not saying to hide. I’m just wondering why you don’t have a guard walk with you when you’re about or, if not a guard, your brother, Falke. I’m sure he’d come back with us if you asked him to.”

  “You do not think I can defend you?” he demanded, his jaw tightening. He turned to her and his hand snapped onto her jaw, squeezing her as he forced her to look at him. His dark eyes glittered with green-gold anger and she could see the threat of a shift in him. A peculiar sensation slithered over her flesh and she was sure claws grew over her neck, near her pulse. His voice tempered with a roar, he growled, “What have I done to deserve such talk of dishonor from you?”

  “What? Dishonor? I—”

  “Rest assured,” he hissed at her. “I don’t need Falke to protect what is mine.”

  “What is yours?” she repeated, stunned. Her heart nearly stopped beating in her chest. Was he claiming her as his? A curious feeling washed over her at the thought.

  “Yes, my property,” he clarified, though the statement came a little too late.

  Oh, Ulyssa thought ruefully in growing outrage, his property. I see. His property. That pigheaded barbarian jerk! I’ll show him property!

  “What in the hell do you mean—?” Ulyssa began, raising her hand to push his chest.

  “Shh,” Kirill ordered, turning his head away from her. His eyes scanned the forest. “Quiet.”

  “Don’t you—owph!”

  One of Kirill’s hands darted forward to cover her mouth. The other pulled the back of her head until she pressed into the hard fold of his chest.

  “Someone’s coming,” Kirill said under his breath, directly into her ear. She struggled against his hold. He ignored her weak protests as he sniffed the air. “Walk behind me and behave yourself.”

  Just as quickly, he let her go. Kirill walked, not watching to see if she followed. Ulyssa stood still, gasping for breath, and refused to move. She’d be damned before she’d walk behind him in submission. She crossed her arms over her chest, cocked her head to the side, and stared after him.

  Kirill noticed she didn’t follow him and suddenly stopped. His fingers lifted and, without turning around, he motioned for her to come to him. She didn’t move.

  As he turned to look at her, Ulyssa nearly laughed to see the tension in his body. His eyes glared out in anger, but she was too irritated by his words to care.

  “King Kirill.”

  Ulyssa’s smirk fell to hear the voice. She blinked, lifting her jaw proudly. She couldn’t see past Kirill, but she watched him turn to the sound. His body only stiffened more and it was as if she could fell his tension inside herself. The sudden wave of stress made her sick to her stomach and she felt as if she might retch.

  “My King, it’s an honor,” the same voice said.

  Ulyssa took a small step to the side. The man who bowed to Kirill was shorter in stature with long graying black hair. If Kirill was ninety-eight, she could just imagine how old this man was.

  Cool, green eyes turned to her. She met the man’s stare boldly. Ulyssa wondered at it. She took a step closer to better hear. Before she realized what she was doing, she stood next to Kirill’s side. He didn’t move to acknowledge her. The old Var eyed her curiously, as did his son.

  Under their stares, she did the only thing she could think of. She smiled, held out her hand, and said, “Hello, I’m Ulyssa Payne.”

  The men merely looked at her strangely.

  “And you would be?” she prompted, a little too sternly at their rude silence.

  “Lord Myrddin, I know you haven’t had the honor of meeting my mistress, Lyssa.” Kirill’s hand waved dismissingly toward her and he didn’t turn to look at her. “Lyssa, this is Lord Myrddin and his son, Master Andras.”

  Andras was a taller man than his father, with a
head full of brown waves. Though, he did have the same cool, green eyes as Myrddin. Neither man moved to acknowledge the small bow of her head as they turned back to look at Kirill.

  “Were you to Prince Reid’s?” Myrddin asked.

  “Just for a walk about the forest,” Kirill lied.

  “We were most aggrieved to hear of your father,” Myrddin said, angling his head so he spoke down his nose at Kirill. “He was a good King. Such men as him will never be replaced.”

  It seemed like an odd thing to say to the present King. Ulyssa waited in sweet anticipation for Kirill to seize the man’s throat and demand respect. To her surprise, he only nodded at the statement and said nothing. Ulyssa snorted lightly before she could stop herself and all eyes turned to her.

  “Lyssa, was it?” Myrddin stated. There was no question in his hard tone. She had a feeling he knew about her before their meeting. She also had the distinct impression their meeting here wasn’t completely a coincidence. His eyes gauged her as he asked, “Did you have the honor of knowing our King Attor?”

  “Yes, briefly,” she answered, matching his rude tone with her own. Ulyssa decided she didn’t care for the man’s attitude. She couldn’t help but wonder why Kirill let him talk down to him. A desperate need to wipe the smarmy grin off the man’s face overcame her. In a voice so sweet it dripped with honeyed sarcasm, she added, “I believe it was the same day he died. Though, it’s hard to say since he kidnapped me and knocked me unconscious.”

  “I see,” Myrddin snarled. His mouth snapped, as he ordered, “Andras, come, we are late.”

  “My lord.” Andras bowed his head to Kirill and moved to follow his father’s lead. His face gave away nothing of the exchange.

  Myrddin nodded to the King, murmuring, “My lord.”

  “Lord Myrddin, Master Andras,” Kirill answered politely. The men passed. Kirill didn’t wait for them to get out of sight before he started walking again toward the palace.