Shifter Fated Mates: Boxed Set

by Mandy M. Roth

  “Who were they?” Ulyssa asked when they were alone.

  “Lord Myrddin is a wise, respected man of the Var. He’s leader of the old houses and his family maintains most of the shadowed marshes.” Kirill still didn’t look at her and Ulyssa realized he was livid. Gritting through his teeth, he said, “He and his men were very loyal to my father.”

  Kirill walked faster, stalking through the trees. Ulyssa jogged to keep up with him. “He didn’t seem very noble and wise to me.”

  “Sacred Cats, Lyssa! Can you never just obey me?” Kirill stopped. His dark eyes narrowed in on her in anger. “I told you to follow behind me and yet still you stand beside me as an equal! Most of the time it doesn’t matter, but his ways are of the old and we must respect that. Are you actually trying to cause us more trouble? If I didn’t know better I would think you were trying to be my wife! Only a Queen would dare speak the way you just did.”

  “Hey, buddy, I don’t want to be your anything!” she hissed, matching his muffled tone. He wasn’t yelling, but he might as well have been for all the anger in his face and voice. “You’re the one who asked me to stay. I wanted to leave. Just let me out of our bargain, give me my communicator, and I’ll leave now—right now! I’ll walk into that forest and you’ll never see me again.”

  Kirill slashed his hand through the air to silence her. “I ask you to behave and yet you open your mouth! Can you just never stay quiet?”

  “You’re a King. You don’t have to answer to the likes of him. How could you let him speak to you like that?”

  “I have to answer to everyone in this kingdom,” Kirill growled. “You gave me your word you would behave for three months until your ride came. If you would have me honor my word to let you go, I will demand you honor yours.”

  “You still shouldn’t let him talk down to you like that. If you won’t defend yourself—”

  “You dare insult me further by saying I need you to defend me?”

  “Argh! You are so... so argh! Who cares if he liked your father better, Kirill? I’ve got a news flash for you. You’re his new King and what’s more your father was a jerk. I’m sorry you lost him and I’m sorry he’s dead, but that doesn’t change the facts. Look at your childhood, your brother’s childhood—”

  “You’re human. There’s no way you can understand our ways,” he broke in, storming closer to better glare at her. His body was tense and he refused to touch her. “I’m well aware you have no love for my father, Lyssa, but these people do. And more than that, Attor has their respect even in death. You can’t undo centuries of loyalty in a week. I know it matters naught to you, for you plan on leaving, but it matters to me! I am stuck here for centuries!”

  “Stuck?” Ulyssa gasped in shock. She trembled violently at his nearness, as if she could feel his anger inside herself—but there was more, a slight edging of fear he’d never admit to and probably didn’t know he had. His words echoed in her head as if he yelled inside her rather than whispered angrily before her. She heard roaring echo in her brain and it wasn’t her frustration she felt. It was his. She took a frightened step back, her eyes wide. Every nerve inside her tried to push him from her body, not liking the invasion.

  Unhampered by her new plight, Kirill stood regally before her. The roaring stopped as he looked her over. Quietly, and without passion, he said, “I must insist you stop your slander against King Attor. If you speak of it again, our deal is off and I will have you punished.”

  “You said you were stuck here,” Ulyssa said instead of answering his threat.

  “I used the wrong human word,” he dismissed, but she somehow knew he was lying, could feel that he was. “Your language is easy to switch around.”

  Suddenly, she felt nothing. The silence in her head left her numb. He turned his emotions off, blocked them, swallowed them down until they were ignored. It was as if he invaded her and then left, taking part of her with him. She couldn’t explain it, didn’t even want to try.

  “As for your insolence before Lord Myrddin, I shall sentence you to two weeks of repentance. You may not leave my home until that time is served.”

  Ulyssa gasped. She watched in silence as he stalked away. Then, glancing around the shadowed forest, she hurried after him.

  Chapter Eight

  Kirill took Ulyssa home without another word and, to her amazement, left her there alone. It was just as well. She suddenly felt like she had a lot to figure out. A small, yet overwhelming part of her screamed to push everything aside—her pride, her stubbornness—and just hold him whether he allowed it or not. That same part told her to submit completely, to give in so that she could have what she wanted. She ignored that small part, for it wasn’t her logic that spoke, but her treacherous heart. Ulyssa refused to become enamored with a barbaric King.

  The first week of her repentance passed in anger. She ignored Kirill. He ignored her. She ate alone, bathed alone, sat alone, stared at the wall alone. It was only when she started to have conversations alone that she shook herself from her stupor and began looking for things to do. And, though she found little to occupy her, her thoughts stayed busy.

  The second week seemed even longer. Kirill’s anger seemed to abate and he began dining with her in the evenings. At first conversation was stilted and short, but it gradually grew to inane topics about Qurilixen weather and food. He tried to ask her personal questions, which she artfully avoided. The only stories she had involved the Agency and that little detail wasn’t something she wanted him to know.

  By the end of her repentance, an uneasy tension settled in the home. Their eyes would lock and hold for long periods before either of them thought to look away. Kirill would walk across the living room without a shirt, lounging against the doorframe as he spoke, knowing all the time she watched. Ulyssa would allow her body to brush against his when passing by. Or she’d allow ample amounts of cleavage to show in his direction. It was a game and they both knew it—a battle of the wills to see who would cave first. So far, neither was giving in.

  The two weeks were complete torture, sleeping on the couch, knowing she had but to crawl onto his bed and offer herself to him. Stubborn pride kept her from going. Stubborn pride was becoming a hard comfort in the late hours of the night when she’d wake up from an erotically charged dream of Kirill and of the magic his tongue could work on her skin.

  Once, she’d tried to relieve the sexual tension from of her body by herself. Kirill had stumbled sleepily from the bedroom, sniffing the air, as he passed by to the bathroom. It was as if he’d known what she was doing. She closed her eyes and pretended to sleep. She’d not tried such a thing again.

  Another notion filtered in and out of her thoughts when she was alone. Kirill had been honest with her from the beginning. He could feel nothing for her or any woman. He wanted only one thing from her—her body. She respected him for that honesty, but suddenly it became a hard reality to swallow and she didn’t know why. Why should it matter if Kirill could care for her or not? Did she really want him to? Did she want more from him than a passionate, adventurous, incredibly wonderful affair of the flesh? Did she want his barbaric heart?

  Ulyssa stopped pacing the length of his home. Her world spun as her mind edged closer to the thought. She turned in circles, looking for something solid to hold onto. The couch, the bright fireplace, the living room, it all blurred and streaked within her vision.

  “I think I... love him?” she whispered with a confused grimace, right before she fainted dead away onto the floor.

  * * * *

  Kirill looked out over the balcony adjoining the royal office. He couldn’t go back home, not yet. He needed to get away from the frustrating woman who already occupied too many of his thoughts as of late. She was rash, outspoken, reckless—everything Attor had warned his sons against in a woman.

  The valley below spread out with trees, the tops of which blended together in a gently rolling plain. Their leaves shimmered in such a way it looked like field of emerald. He loved
this land—his land. And he loved the people who lived in it.

  Kirill sighed, feeling the weight of his burden tenfold. Only with Ulyssa did he feel it lessen, unless he counted that time when she’d opened her mouth too wide in front of Lord Myrddin and his son. The noble was a well-respected elder and her words had enticed him to anger. Already rumors spread of his distrust of the new King.

  It had been Lord Myrddin’s nephew that helped to kidnap the Draig Princess Olena. Because of the foolishness of the plan, Brouse and his two cohorts were dead—slaughtered by the Draig Princes in the shadowed marshes. Lord Myrddin had been one of Attor’s closest advisors and was also one of the few people Kirill had to worry about. The fact that he hadn’t come to the coronation also said he wasn’t wholeheartedly giving his support of the new King’s reign.

  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.
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br />   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.