All the King's Men (4 page)

Something shifted in Thor’s eyes. The man’s gaze lingered on
Kirel’s chest then darted lower, caressing his groin momentarily before being
wrenched back to Kirel’s face.

Startled by the sudden intensity he glimpsed in his friend’s
face, Kirel felt his cock stir. A sudden impression of two pairs of hands
caressing a slender, shapely body slammed into Kirel’s thoughts without
warning. Fingers drifted over the woman’s breasts, cupping them, squeezing and
tweaking the stiff little nubs of her nipples while other palms strayed down
over her flat belly to touch the pouting cleft of her glistening pussy.

Kirel’s cock jolted from semi-soft to full-blown hardness in
the span of a breath. The myriad sensual images playing across his mind
intensified, taunting him with visions of explicit acts.

His breath caught in his throat. Struggling to pull on his
pants and mask his sudden arousal, he lost his balance and came down hard onto
the floor.

“Fuck.” Strong hands reached for him, grabbing his
shoulders. “You all right?”

Instead of snapping him out of his delusion, Thor’s husky
voice only enhanced the vivid thoughts. When images of the carnal acts should
have been dissipating, they grew stronger. Fingers crooked in invitation,
beckoning to him to join in the fray.

He couldn’t make out the woman’s face, but it didn’t matter.
With steady, sure hands, he pictured himself spreading her thighs apart, baring
her pink, flushed labia to his eyes, his hands, his mouth.

The impression was strong enough to send the scent of her
musky arousal drifting to his nostrils. He inhaled deeply and his cock twitched
again. A drop of pre-cum slid down his shaft, slicking the sensitive skin. The
woman in his fantasy reached out for him and whispered his name.

He might not have been able to see her face but he
recognized her voice. With a gasp, Kirel tore himself out of the daydream and
gazed into Thor’s brilliant blue eyes. The man’s face was only inches away from
his, close enough that all Kirel had to do was tug down the strip of cloth
covering the Guardian’s lips, lean forward and—

With a low, murmured curse, Kirel shook himself out of
Thor’s grip and pulled on his uniform pants. “I’m fine.”

Gods, what had gotten into him? They’d seen each other naked
countless times. When they spent as much time with each other as the Guardians
did, modesty was a luxury they could ill afford.

Not once had he experienced such a strong reaction in the
presence of any of the Guardians. And never before had his dreams of Nelina
interfered with his duty.

He avoided Thor’s questioning glance while he pulled on his
black tunic. His friend had seen his raging hard-on. He’d have to have been
blind not to.

Swallowing hard, Kirel tugged the hood of the traditional
skella
over the mask he’d already tied behind his head and stepped into his polished
black boots. “We should go,” he said over his shoulder, already heading for the
door.

Thor fell into step beside him, wisely keeping his mouth
shut as they walked. Kirel’s head pounded. The pictures came in an
unpredictable rush now, blossoming just behind his eyelids every time he
blinked, giving him no time to adjust before they changed to introduce him to
another cock-pulsing sensation. One moment he could be imagining his tongue
gently swirling around Nelina’s engorged clit and the next he’d have his cock
balls-deep in her pussy while her thighs wrapped around him, squeezing him as
he pumped savagely inside her.

This has to stop.

He had a job to do. His focus should have been entirely on
his king and the joyous occasion for which he and the other two Guardians had
been summoned.

The remorseless fantasies taunted him, driving him closer to
the brink of insanity with each flash of skin. Every muscle in his body tensed
and corded. Every nerve screamed for a female touch.

Kirel quickened his step, making no attempt to disguise
their urgency. At this hour of the night, the castle was all but deserted.

They turned a corner and Kirel spotted a woman wearing a
dress cut so low he could see the dark tint of an areola peeping out from
beneath the fabric. He recognized her immediately as one of the royal
courtesans. Though he’d never indulged in her particular talents, he’d heard
rumors about her affinity for the bite of a whip, both giving and receiving.

She watched them both boldly as they approached, her gaze
darting over Kirel’s uniform-encased body with obvious admiration, pausing on
the bulge between his legs. “Oh my,” she purred when he came near, “do you
already have plans for that or would you like me to take care of things for
you?”

She reached out a red-tipped fingernail and dragged it over
the length of his erection. His cock jolted with awareness, eagerly pulsing
beneath her too-tempting ministrations. Clenching his jaw, he grunted something
entirely unintelligible and brushed past her. An angry red haze clouded his
vision and his fantasy wavered, shimmering and changing from sensual eroticism
to savage, carnal wantonness.

“Maybe your friend then?” the woman called out behind him.

Kirel had the brief urge to grab the courtesan by the back
of her neck, push her up against the wall and hold her there while he lifted
her voluminous skirts and plunged his cock deep inside her pussy. He’d bet
anything she’d already be sopping wet from a previous tryst, allowing him to
enter her smoothly in one abrupt thrust.

He pictured Thor leaning against the wall, watching him fuck
her senseless as he stroked himself, the smooth head of his cock flushed with
desire.

Pain pounded in Kirel’s temples as he rounded a corner.
Holy
Moon Gods
. What was happening to him?

“Wait.”

Thor’s hand on his shoulder had Kirel jerking out of his
friend’s reach. He glowered through the slit in his mask. “What?”

“Are you sure you’re ready to face the king? I don’t know
what’s happened tonight, but you look ready to pounce on someone. Maybe you’d
better take a moment before walking in there.”

Startled, Kirel glanced at the set of double doors leading
to the king’s chamber. A guard stood on either side, their gazes fixed straight
ahead, though Kirel saw them dart curious glances his way from the corners of
their eyes.

Gods, he hadn’t even realized they’d arrived at their
destination. The fog clouding his brain threatened to suffocate him. He could
still smell the honeyed aroma of Nelina’s arousal. It filled his nostrils with
every breath, clogged his throat and burrowed deep into his veins.

It took all his strength to grit his teeth and force his
features into a calm mask. “I’m fine. I haven’t been sleeping well, that’s all.
I was hoping for a quiet night.”

Thor chuckled, the silky sound of his amusement sliding
through Kirel’s gut to settle there like a hot ball of fire that threatened to
incinerate him with every ragged breath. “Rest doesn’t seem likely now. Not
with a new queen to train.”

Kirel nearly groaned. He hadn’t given much thought to his
role in the future queen’s preparation for taking her rightful place at the
king’s side.

Thor was right. For the next week, the woman chosen to rule
at Shivar’s side was to be instructed in the skills she’d need to acquire to
pass three trials set down by the Tradition for generations. Part of the
Guardians’ own training included strict guidance in the process of preparing a
future queen for the Trials. That particular element of a Guardian’s tutelage
was the one all Guardians-to-be looked forward to the most.

The king couldn’t participate in the training process. In
fact, the Tradition demanded that he couldn’t see his future mate at all while
she was being trained.

His Guardians had the privilege of disciplining her to
please him in every possible way. Whether she proved to be innocent or
experienced, Kirel and the other Guardians would ensure that by the time she
was presented to all of Aris for the mating ceremony, she’d be eager, willing
and capable of displaying a wide range of lovemaking talents.

If the Tradition wasn’t obeyed to the letter, or if she
failed to pass the three trials, the consequences would be dire. The Fates
themselves would choose the punishment for the disgraced woman, and they
weren’t known for their ability to tolerate failure.

More importantly, if the queen the Tradition had chosen
failed to pass the trials, the king would also be punished. He would be
obligated to pass his crown down to the royal next in line to rule. Except in
Shivar’s case, no other such royal existed. With no heirs of his own, Shivar
would leave Aris leaderless and at the mercy of its ruthless neighbors.

Abruptly, the door swung open from the inside to reveal a
tall, slender woman. A mass of blonde hair so pale it was almost white framed a
heart-shaped face. Equally pale eyebrows drew together over the elegant ridge
of her slightly upturned nose. “Are you going to stand there all night or are
you coming in? The king needs you.”

Thor strolled through first. Steeling his nerves and willing
himself to keep the mental images at bay, Kirel followed.

The door closed behind them on a silent gust of wind, as
though the woman had commanded it to shut with nothing but the power of her
thoughts.

Knowing Vida, she’d probably done just that.

The king’s chambers had always unnerved Kirel. They were
much too spacious, with too many shadowy corners in which an intruder could
easily hide. He’d pleaded with Shivar endlessly, hoping to convince the king to
move to a smaller chamber, but to no avail. Shivar liked the generous extent of
the room. He argued that it gave him space to think.

Shivar had elected to only use half the space for his
personal needs. His bedchamber was located at the back, divided from the
meeting area by a dozen embroidered screens the king had acquired on various
travels off-world. Gold-rimmed windows bordered the front of the room, allowing
the tri-colored moonlight to stream through the panes.

A cheerful fire burned in the marble hearth. It spread a
pleasant warmth through the cavernous room, but even its bright flames lacked
the strength to illuminate the high ceilings.

It did however cast its orange glow on the king’s grave
features.

Although he’d ruled Aris for almost three decades, time had
only served to enhance Shivar Waldemar’s boyish good looks. Only the few faint
wrinkles that bracketed his pale blue eyes and the strands of gray sprinkled in
his close-cropped black hair hinted at his age. His pale blue eyes were shrewd,
experience having tempered the exuberance that had been a staple of his
youthful reign. He’d claimed the throne at the age of fourteen. Although Kirel
was too young to remember Shivar being crowned, having served at his side for
the last eight years had given him plenty of insight into the king’s
temperament.

“What took you so long?” Domenic, the last of the king’s
Guardians and the youngest, rose from a plush settee.

Kirel threw Thor a harsh glance from beneath lowered
eyelids. “It’s my fault. I was sleeping and Thor had to wait on me.”

“Yeah?” Domenic said. “Well, I was fucking and I still made
it here before you.”

“Boys. That’s enough.” Vida leaned on her runed, slender
staff. Made entirely out of an ebony material Kirel couldn’t name, it glowed
with an internal light that seemed to shimmer from within. A claw-tipped hand
reached out from the top of the staff, a pearl-colored orb resting in its outstretched
palm. “There’s something we need to discuss.”

Kirel rubbed the bridge of his nose. Although not as strong
as they’d been only minutes earlier, images of Nelina still danced through his
mind. He needed another glass of that wine and some time alone to alleviate the
raging hard-on that hadn’t subsided even a fraction since this unexplainable
lust had claimed him. And he still hadn’t been able to look Thor in the eye.

“The Tradition has named a new queen for all of Aris,” Vida
continued. “And for the king.” A tremor passed through her voice, jerking
Kirel’s head up. He must have imagined it because when she went on, there
wasn’t a hint of uncertainty in her tone. “It’s your duty to bring her back to
the castle. Tonight.”

“Of course,” Thor said. “I’ve already ordered a carriage
saddled. Tell us who she is and where to find her, and we’ll have her here as
quickly as possible.”

“It’s not that simple,” the king said, speaking for the
first time that evening. He toyed with the sleeve of his voluminous robe, not
meeting their eyes.

Tension knotted in Kirel’s stomach. It wasn’t like Shivar to
be uncertain about anything.

“If you’re concerned about the training,” Domenic said, a
teasing lilt in his tone, “don’t be. We’ve got enough experience to teach the
future queen everything she needs to know. Well, most of us. I can’t vouch for
Kirel.”

A scowl curled Kirel’s lip. “The rough rutting you think
passes for lovemaking won’t be good enough here, Dom. Maybe we should leave you
out of it altogether.”

“And you think you can—”

“The woman the Tradition has chosen is Nelina Lannen.”

The king’s words caused the planet to tilt on its axis.
Kirel’s head spun and the dull ache that lived inside the empty space in his
heart expanded, threatening to burst right through his chest.

His vision swam in a red haze. Moved by instinct and sheer
desperation, Kirel snapped his blade into his palm and lunged at the king.
Catching him off guard, Kirel pressed the tip of his blade just beneath
Shivar’s jaw and had the perverse satisfaction of seeing a crimson drop of
blood blossom to the surface. He applied slightly more pressure and the king
paled.

“You swore to me she was dead! I never would have left her
otherwise. Never!”

“I didn’t think—”

Metal rasped from behind him and Kirel whirled to meet the
threat, leading with his blade. Thor struck out first but Kirel neatly parried
the blow and dove low for a sideswipe at the man’s ribs. From his left, Domenic
joined the fray. Dom didn’t use his blade unless absolutely necessary,
preferring his fists and the formidable strength of his body to any other
weapon.