Forbidden Craving: The Nymph King / The Beautiful Ashes

He couldn’t allow her to entertain the false assumption any longer. “I’m not taking you back to your world, Moon. I’m taking you to your new home.”

She jolted, her nails digging into his flesh. “You knew what I thought but didn’t correct me.”

“I did correct you. Now.”

“Yes, you’re practically a Boy Scout. If this is how you think to win my affections, well, good luck,” she spit at him. “You and Joachim should consider dating. You’re perfect for each other.”

“Does she always speak this way?” Joachim asked, expressing his first doubt about his selection.

“Always,” Valerian and Shaye snapped in unison.

“By the way. I’m not staying anywhere near your room,” she informed Valerian. “I’d rather return to the sea and drown.”

“That isn’t an option for you.” He had to drag her—gently, of course—the rest of the way.

Joachim watched the interaction with an unreadable countenance.

Finally they reached the outskirts of Valerian’s suite.

Aeson exited the main doorway, his face flushed with pleasure.

Having caught his scent, the three humans chased after him. Soon, they trapped him in a circle.

“Be with me.”

“No, me.”

“I neeeed you.”

Then, “Valerian! You came back for me.”

All three swung around to beckon him over.

Mated nymphs didn’t usually attract females with the same potency and fervor as unmated ones. Still. He pulled Shaye in front of him, using her as a shield.

“Take one and go, Aeson.”

“You’re taking me.” The black beauty stepped forward and clasped Aeson’s hand.

He gazed at her with adoration as he led her from the room.

The other two females pouted.

Shaye humphed. “So. You’re a pimp as well as king.”

He ignored her and waved in his cousin’s direction. “Joachim is in need of a lover. Any interest?”

Both women sashayed to him without question.

“You’re so big,” the darker skin woman cooed.

“And strong,” added the delightfully plump redhead.

Joachim backed away, determined to resist. “I’ve already made my choice?” he said, the words a question rather than a statement. “The...the pale one is to be mine, and I must guard her door this night. For that reason, you...cannot...touch...me. Touch me.” The last was an unrestrained moan of helpless capitulation.

They’d reached him, their hands already stroking him.

Valerian almost grinned. “Shaye won’t mind if you forgo standing guard at her door this night. A man has needs, and she understands.” Or rather, he prayed she understood.

“Needs,” the lost-in-a-passion-haze warrior repeated.

“I need your naked skin sliding against mine,” the redhead said, breathless.

“I need you, hot in my mouth.”

Joachim audibly swallowed. “Valerian,” he began, a tremor in his tone.

Shouldn’t smile. “Go. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“The pale one—”

“Will remain untouched.” Tonight. Only tonight. “I’ve given you my word, and I’ll keep it.” Even if Shaye begged him for more.

The thought caused him to harden painfully. He wanted her to beg.

The redhead shoved her friend and jumped into Joachim’s arms. “I’ll make you forget her.”

“I trust you, cousin.” Joachim strode away then, and the woman clung to him.

“Wait,” Valerian called. “Take the other to Shivawn. If you’d like a man of your own?” he asked her.

She brightened. “Yes, please.”

Joachim held out his hand, and the other woman eagerly rushed over to claim it.

The trio disappeared beyond the corner.

Valerian allowed his grin to peek through. He had Shaye to himself, Joachim otherwise occupied.

“Unbelievable,” Shaye muttered.

He gripped her shoulders to twist her around. “Just what do you find so unbelievable?”

“The amount of communal sex to be had, of course. Haven’t you people heard of STDs?” Her pique painted her cheeks a soft shade of rose. As if the moon would soon vanish in place of the sun.

Lust boiled in his blood. He’d touched the softness of her skin today, but he had yet to taste her. He’d held her, but he had yet to make love to her. He wanted to strip her. To sink deep inside her. To pound, hard and fast, pleasuring her with long, demanding strokes.

She looked at him, as if she herself had just realized they were finally alone, and her nostrils flared. With desire?

He fisted his hands at his sides to keep himself from reaching out again.

“Listen to me very closely.” The words were nothing more than a growl of barely restrained need. “I want you, but I can’t have you. If you don’t lock yourself inside the suite right now, I’m going to forget my vow to leave you untouched and use every weapon in my sensual arsenal to tempt you.”

Her eyes widened, the rich velvet-brown flicking with sparks of arousal. Her breath caught, and she inched away from him.

“If you exit the suite,” he added, “I’ll view it as an invitation to begin your seduction.”

She spun on her heel and sprinted past the door. Click.

For a long while, Valerian stood in place, desperate to follow her, willing the door to open.

When his blood cooled, he scrubbed his face with a shaky hand. Having a mate was going to be murder on his body, it seemed, for he foresaw a long, painful night ahead—with no real end in sight.

CHAPTER EIGHT

SHAYE’S HEART THUNDERED in her chest, pounding so hard she feared her ribs would crack; her ears rang loudly, and she covered them with her hands to block out the awful sound. She sank onto the edge of a decadent made-for-sex bed with red silk sheets and a velvet comforter.

Not daring to breathe, she stared at the door.

She remained in that exact position for over an hour, anticipatory. Part of her wanted Valerian to storm inside the room to begin seducing her.

Begin. As if he hadn’t already.

Before she’d left him, his gaze had scorched her. If she’d remained with him, that heat would have burned her alive.

A new card idea had taken root. We should probably have sex before we rush into dating.

She gulped. If any man could tempt her...

No! She wouldn’t be a fool for lust or love or whatever the heck he wanted to call...whatever the heck was going on between them, accepting whatever crap he happened to dish.

She rested her head against the bedpost, which was intricately carved with—what else?—naked females.

So far Valerian had proved to be a man of his word—which meant he would remain guard just outside the door all freaking night.

He would always tell her the truth, huh?

“This is your personal love shack, right? And those three women, you bagged and tagged them?” she called.

A pause. She expected the silence to continue.

Then he said, “Yes.”

Well, well. The truth, even when it hurt. A rarity. A trait she admired greatly and had always hoped to find in someone else.

Maybe I should stay with him? Just for a little while.

Okay, wow. Part of her had to be looking for any reason to stay. Which was the very reason she had to escape tonight. No way she should stick around until morning, when he and the other warrior, Joachim, would fight for ownership of her, as if she were property.

“I’m not a trophy,” she muttered. “I’m not a prize for Valerian and his sex squad to battle to the death over.”

“Yes, Moon, you are.”

The huskiness of his voice gave her a jolt of pure pleasure, making her heart skip a beat and heat coast over her skin.

Trembling now, she jumped to her feet and traversed one of the bridges, careful to avoid the pits. She paced. A large, sunken tub had been filled with bubbling water. Or the water never drained. Tendrils of steam curled to the vaulted crystal ceiling, which showcased the now turbulent ocean above. Waves churned and swirled, leaving wisps of foam behind, no horny mermaids in sight.

Maybe...maybe a night with Valerian could go on her bucket list?

What! What are you doing? Stop! Escape!

Right. She traced a fingertip over the vanity. The rings in the wood actually warmed to her touch, a slight vibration rising up her arm.

An eerie voice suddenly whispered through her mind. Love heals; it doesn’t hurt. Love is the answer, not the problem...

With a gasp, she yanked her arm away, severing contact. What. The. Heck?

“You mentioned...lovers.” Valerian spoke up again, his tone dripping with irritation. “Are they the reason you want to return home?”

Ugh. She’d yelled at him for misleading her, but she’d done the same to him. “I have a business. I have dreams.”

“What’s your business?”

Genuine interest? “I sell anti-cards.” Did Atlanteans celebrate holidays?

“Or, more accurately, I sell sarcasm to people who have stopped romanticizing life.”

A pause, as if he needed a moment to store every bit of info about her. “Give me an example of an anti-card.”

She thought for a moment. “Congratulations on your new job. Before you go, would you mind taking the knife out of my back? You’ll probably need it again.”

He chuckled, surprising her, delighting her—arousing her. Which was so freaking frustrating!

“Now tell me about your dreams,” he said.

A safe topic. One she embraced. “Well, while I was busy drowning, I admitted I’d like to write a book.”

A soft growl. “You were never in danger of drowning. And you can write a book here.”

“I have a feeling just do it here will be your answer to everything,” she told him dryly.

“Yes, I’m very wise.”

She had to cut off a laugh.

Twice, she realized. Twice he’d amused her—the moody, broody cold fish—in a way no one else ever had.

“I notice you mention nothing of your family,” he said, his tone now careful. “Not your mother and her new husband. Not your father.”

“We’ve never been close,” she admitted.

Love heals; it doesn’t hurt.

Argh! Those words!

“Their loss,” he said.

Love is the answer, not the problem.

“I...thank you?”

Another pause stretched between them. “I’ll be your family,” he said, and she could picture him banging his chest with his fists. “It will be my honor and my privilege.”

She rolled her eyes. “See! Told you just do it here would be your answer to everything.”

Let’s say she agreed to date Valerian. Would she ever be able to trust him? Was he capable of being faithful?

Shaye despised sharing. She’d shared her parents with their ever-changing lovers. She’d shared her childhood and her toys with stepsisters and stepbrothers.

If ever she gave herself to someone, it would be to a man who wanted her and only her. A man willing to give up his life just to make her happy. And she, in turn, would do the same for him.

Was she asking and offering too much? Maybe. But it was what she wanted, and she wouldn’t settle for less—even though she knew it was an impossibility. Perhaps that was why she wanted it in the first place. If she couldn’t really have it, she never had to worry about heartbreak.

Valerian talked a good talk, and granted, he could probably walk a delectable, mind-shattering walk all over her body, but how long would his affections last?

“As my queen,” he said, “you’ll be wealthy beyond imagining.”

“So. You think you can buy me?”

“I wish I could buy you,” he grumbled.

She wanted to laugh again. What is wrong with me?

She valued her independence and being with a nymph—the nymph, actually—would strip that independence away layer by precious layer. How many times had she seen her father’s girlfriends change their personality to fit him? Countless! Shaye refused, absolutely refused, to allow the same fate to befall her.

And yet, she told Valerian, “As long as I’m a prisoner, you won’t be a viable date for me.” As if there could ever be hope for more.

“No. I refuse to believe that. One day you’ll forgive me. And our children will love the story of our meeting.”

She nearly choked on her tongue. Children?

“Tell me a secret,” he said. To distract her?

Her shock must have loosened her tongue, because she admitted, “I like the color pink. Which is borderline humiliating! Pink equals girlie. A frilly princess.”

“And you don’t want to be a girlie princess because...”

“I’m tough, as hard as nails?” A question? Really? She hurried to remove the focus from her. “What about you? Tell me a secret.”

“One moment, Shaye,” he said, then muttered something she couldn’t discern.

Her brow furrowed with confusion until a male replied, “Yes, Majesty.” Footsteps rang out.

“All right. We’re alone again,” he told her.

Her first thought? Good! He’s mine, all mine.

I need help.

“As a boy,” he said, “I liked to nap in fields of lavender.”

“Because being so beautiful was exhausting?”

“You think I’m beautiful?” How happy he sounded.

“You know you are.”

“More beautiful than Joachim?”

Not going to travel that road. “Good night, Valerian.”

He sighed. “Sleep well, Shaye. I’ll protect you.”

In that, she believed him. An odd but undeniable fact.

She searched the rest of the room but found no other doorway. Disheartened—yes, that had to be it—she dug through the closet. A few feminine garments were mixed in with the array of masculine shirts and leathers. From past lovers?

Probably. Not that she cared.

Really!

Almost defiantly, Shaye selected a black T-shirt and a pair of pants she had to roll at the ankles. More comfortable, she moved to the window and parted the violet curtains.

Her eyes widened. Oh, wow. Thick, dew-kissed trees—some as bright as emeralds, others as white as snow—circled the landscape. Clear waterfalls spilled into pristine rivers while rainbow-colored birds soared overhead.

Absolutely magnificent.

In the heart of it all was a crowded city pulsing with life. Buildings of stone and wood created a maze of winding streets. Fading streaks of light emanated from the dome above, twilight giving way to night.

The crystal dome also acted as the sun, she realized.

She would have loved to visit the city, to stand in the midst of such spectacular beauty and bask.

“This has to be close to heaven,” she breathed.

“We call it the Outer City,” Valerian replied.

“A boring name for a specular paradise.” Her gaze swept over the cliffs; she spotted bull-faced men with horns sprouting from their heads, beautiful women with horse bodies—centaurs?—and lions with wings.

“There was no need to travel to my world, Valerian,” she said. “Your perfect mate was here all along.”

“Only you would do, Moon.”

Her stomach tightened. “Annnd that’s the end of our conversation.” Shaky legs returned her to the bed, where she eased onto the mattress.

“I’d like to bargain with you,” Valerian said. “Let’s negotiate.”

Her brand-new heart arrhythmia acted up again. “What are you offering, exactly?”

“I’ll be silent for the rest of the night...if you give me a compliment. A real one.”

Dangerous territory. She would have to consider all the wonderful things about him and most assuredly, she’d begin to melt. Diabolical man.

If she were home, she would be alone right now. And lonely, her mind piped up.

Lonely was safe. Lonely was familiar.

A hot ache squeezed at her chest.

“Why are you doing this to me, Valerian? You could have any of the other women. Someone who would eagerly come to you...who would do anything you asked of them.”

“They aren’t you.”

A simple sentence, yes, but it rocked her to the core. “What’s so special about me? I defy you to name one thing.”

Silence stretched between them, and it both elated and defeated her.

How stupid could I be? She’d actually craved praise from him. “You seriously need this much time to think about it?”

“You asked for one thing. I’m having trouble deciding which one to mention.”

Her anger deflated. This man...oh, this man.

“How about I tell you three things?” he asked.

“Sure,” she managed to croak.

“Your scent is so incredibly sweet, I could pick you out of a crowd of thousands, even if I were blindfolded. You remind me of a rose—there are thorns, but beneath them, your soul is as soft as silk. You fascinate me. You are brave, but vulnerable. Kind but selective. Jaded yet hopeful.”

She reeled. No one—not her mother, father, stepbrothers or stepsisters, or an endless string of nannies—had ever made her feel so important, so necessary, with only a few softly spoken words.

She barely knew Valerian. In their short time together, she’d railed at him, desired him, cursed him and attacked him. Now she wanted to storm out of the bedroom and throw herself into his arms. To be the brave girl he considered her to be, to destroy every wall she’d ever built and melt every piece of ice surrounding her heart.

This. This was the danger of the nymph, she realized. Not the beauty or the physical strength. Not even the pheromone Valerian had mentioned.

This. The belief that you were special. That you would be different from every other woman seduced and discarded. That a happily-ever-after wasn’t just possible but imminent.

How was she supposed to resist him?

CHAPTER NINE

VALERIAN SPENT THE entire night posted in front of Shaye’s door, hyperaware of every move and sound she made. Only a few minutes ago, she’d drifted to sleep with a heavy sigh. A quick peek inside the room had confirmed his suspicions, her lithe form sprawled across the bed, her hair spilling around her like a snowy curtain sprinkled with starlight.

She was a winter goddess. A snow nymph. His greatest satisfaction and most decadent pleasure.

Ripe for the taking...

Her eyelashes were light, only a shade darker than her hair. Her lips, those soft, lush, all-your-dreams-come-true lips were parted, begging to be kissed.

He wanted so badly to touch her.

“I’ll have you yet,” he told her. “Say nothing if you agree with me.”

Silence greeted him, and he grinned.

“Dream of me, Moon. I’ll dream of you, I have no doubt.” If he slept at all.

The pink tip of her tongue swept over her lips. A wave of desire swept through him as he imagined meeting her tongue with his own. The two twining, dueling, tasting.

Devouring.

His stomach clenched, and every muscle in his body turned to stone. He needed to leave...at the very least, to look away from her. Already he clung precariously to a sense of honor he wasn’t sure he possessed anymore. The longer he stood there, the worse it would be for him.

How he longed for the night she would breathe her sighs in his ears, or across his chest—or lower still. And how dare Joachim attempt to lay claim to her!

Valerian scowled. Shaye was meant for him, and only him, and those who thought otherwise deserved a painful death.

He’d never wanted anything as much as he wanted her, and not being able to have her immediately was...hard. Very, very hard.

I have to win her. I cannot let another have her.

Perhaps his cousin would become so enamored of his current lover he would forgot all about Shaye. If not...well, Valerian would just have to think of something Joachim would find irresistible. Something he would place above the importance of a bedmate.

Joachim was a good man—at times—and a strong warrior with a—slightly—loyal heart. What were the man’s weaknesses? Women? Beyond a doubt. Women were the weakness of all nymphs. Power? Definitely. Weapons? Most surely. Joachim collected them, taking them from every warrior he’d ever killed or bested and hanging them on his bedchamber wall.

Valerian considered his own blade, resting against his back. The Skull. Large, sharp and lethal. One of the finest swords ever made. No, the finest ever made. Crafted by Hephaesteus himself, the blacksmith of the Greeks. The weapon had slayed many of his enemies, rending them with injuries that could not be mended. The sword was the only one of its kind, with a twisted frame and elongated skull tip that were envied by every soldier who spied it.

He would hate to give it up, but his mate held so much more importance to him. Even a mate who wanted nothing to do with him.

Would Joachim accept the Skull?

Valerian released a sigh of his own, the answer remaining a mystery—as much a mystery as the best way to win Shaye’s well-guarded heart.

She’d scoffed at money and jewels. She’d shown no interest in his crown.

Did she have enemies in need of slaying? If so, he would gladly gift her with their severed heads.

He pushed a hand through his hair. Uncertainty was foreign to him. And horrible and challenging but also exciting.

Winning her—appeasing Joachim and overcoming Shaye’s own resistance—had awakened his deepest warrior instincts.

“You will be mine,” he told her. “Somehow.”

“Majesty?”

He closed the door with a quiet snick and focused on the warrior who’d returned at last, bearing the supplies Valerian had requested. A canvas, an easel and three colors of paint. Black, white and red.

He dismissed the warrior and carefully placed the canvas on the easel. He spent hours painting, losing himself in the joy of creating. The subject of his art had never appealed to him more. Had never mattered to him more.

When he finished, he stood back to study the image and ensure he’d gotten every detail right. His chest swelled with pride. He had. Oh, he had.

Let Shaye try to resist him now...

* * *

THREADS OF LIGHT flowed from the crystal dome above, gradually brightening the bedroom. Different-colored shards shot in every direction, a lovely rainbow spray of blue, pink, purple and green.

Shaye eased up, surprisingly relaxed. She yawned and rubbed the sleep from her eyes before scanning the room, hoping an exit would reveal itself in the bright light of day. The bathing pool still steamed and bubbled with hot water. Violet cloth still draped the windows. Columns still rose to the ceiling, majestic and—

She gasped. A painting had been hung on the wall, beside the vanity. A painting that hadn’t been there last night.

It was a painting of her. A close-up of her face. In black and white, with only spots of color. Twin pink circles highlighted her cheeks while her lips were dark red.

Her eyes somehow sparkled with mischief, her eyelids at half-mast, heavy and slumberous; she looked ready and eager for a man. But not just any man...

Her lips were slightly kiss-swollen, a smile threatening to break free.

Valerian must have spent the entire night working on it.

Is this how he sees me?

Her mind rebelled. She wasn’t mischievous, and she rarely smiled. He must have painted his desires—the way he wanted her to be.

Disappointment delivered a one-two punch to her midsection.

Can’t you be nice for once, Shaye?

Why can’t you be more like your stepsister, Shaye?

What will it take to get rid of your perma-scowl, Shaye?

Mumbling under her breath, she lumbered from the bed and crossed the bridge, avoiding the surrounding pits. Why did Valerian have those death traps in here, anyway?

Wait. The palace—fortress, whatever—used to belong to the dragons, he’d said. They must have used those pits to fly in and out of the room.

And how scary that she had begun to think like an Atlantean, considering the different races as part of everyday life.

Anyway. Maybe she could climb down? Or scale down with a sheet, since she didn’t have a ladder.

Yeah, and she could also fall to her death.

So. No scaling.

Shaye used the surprisingly modern bathroom to brush her teeth and wash up, hoping the water would also wash away her darker emotions. A pipe dream.