The Nymph King a-3 Read online

  She hadn't meant to fall asleep, damn it. She should have been searching for a way out, not dreaming of her sexy captor. Of his hands on her, tracing the arch and planes of her lips, holding her to his chest. Cherishing her.

  "Diabolical man," she muttered. Surprisingly, she wasn't stiff or sore as she eased up. She yawned and rubbed the sleep from her eyes, then scanned the room, hoping the way out would reveal itself in the light of day. The bathing pool still steamed with hot water, like a natural spring. Cloth still draped the windows. Columns still rose to the ceiling with Roman majesty.

  Except for the lace-covered doorway, no exit magically presented itself.

  I have to get out of here, she thought, suddenly urgent, before he comes to get me.

  He. Valerian. Unbidden, his image rose in her mind. Strong, proud. Sexual. A hedonist to the extreme, with skin that looked like dark, lickable cream, hair as radiant as spun gold, and eyes... God, his eyes. They beckoned. They teased. They promised. His turquoise irises were as mesmerizing as a turbulent ocean and just as deep. Those long, dark lashes acted as the perfect frame, the perfect contrast.

  What are you doing mooning over him? Dummy! It's time to leave. Fighting a rush of desire, she lumbered to her feet—and tripped over her sandals. So. He'd taken off her shoes. She should be grateful that was all he'd removed.

  Shaye used the surprisingly modern bathroom and washed her face, hoping the water would also wash away her unwanted feelings. Then she circled the room, seeing everything she'd seen the night before—a prison.

  There might not be a secret exit, she thought then, but there was a way out. The front door. Was Valerian still guarding it?

  As quietly as possible, she tiptoed toward the lace. The closer she came, the stronger Valerian's masculine scent became, a heady mixture of aroused man and determined warrior. Her skin prickled with delight. She tried to hold her nose, to fight the scent's allure and the weakening effect it had on her.

  Once at the doorway, she clasped the material and inched it to the side. All the while, her heart drummed a staccato rhythm. Da-dum da-dum da-dum. Would he be there, awake and waiting? Or had he thankfully, blessedly, fallen asleep?

  "Good morning, Shaye."

  She gasped. Valerian stood just in front of her, arms crossed over his massive chest, legs braced apart. Their gazes linked, clashed. Her treacherous heart lost its rhythm and skipped a beat. He looked as unbelievably mouthwatering as before. Shirtless. His body roped with the tightest abs she'd ever seen. Golden hair tumbled onto his forehead and shoulders.

  She licked her lips. "What are you doing here?"

  His blue gaze raked over her, peeling away the shells, parting the grass. "Waiting for you, of course."

  A shiver tripped along her spine. Oh, his voice. How could she have forgotten that take-no-prisoners voice? Pure temptation. Utter decadence. She mentally reinforced the icy walls around her. He's a lecherous abductor. Dangerous in every way.

  Yes, she'd wanted to throw herself at him last night. Now, in the light of day, she told herself that had been a moment of impaired judgment. A moment of exhaustion and insanity.

  "Did you dream of me?" he asked.

  "Yes," she admitted grudgingly. She had. She'd dreamed of his hands caressing her, of his mouth devouring her.

  His lush lips inched into a surprised but pleased smile.

  "You were naked," she told him.

  His grin spread; his eyes gleamed with satisfaction.

  "And tied up... "

  He arched his eyebrows in smug expectation. "I did not know the idea of bondage would please you."

  "Oh, I love the idea of tying you up." She paused dramatically. "Just like in my dream, you'll be secured to an anthill and the little things will eat you alive."

  His grin faded completely, but the twinkle in his eyes did not diminish. "Cruel woman." He propped his shoulder on the side wall, a pose of carnal relaxation. Sink into my arms, his posture proclaimed. I'll catch you. "I dreamed of you, too. Naked."

  Suddenly light-headed, she backed up a step.

  He showed no mercy, and stepped toward her. "You were splayed for my enjoyment." His eyes were heavy-lidded now, wicked. Intent. "And enjoy you I did. Twice."

  She dropped the curtain in place, cutting the sexy man from her view. Breathe, she had to breathe. The oxygen she did manage to draw in burned her throat, singed her lungs. He had only to speak, and his words began to paint a picture in her mind. A terribly beautiful picture.

  His rich chuckle floated across the small distance, wrapping her in a decadent shiver. "There are robes in the closet if you wish to change," he said. "The shells look... uncomfortable."

  That hadn't been the word he'd wanted to say, she knew. There had been a wicked inflection in his voice, as if he'd meant to say "easily removable" or "exquisite." So, change? Hell, yes. "Will you take me home today?" Her voice trembled.

  "You are home."

  She flipped him off, taking a small amount of satisfaction from the action, even though he couldn't see it. Then, with nothing else to do, she trudged to the closet. She'd given the gowns inside only a cursory inspection last night. Changing clothes would be nice.

  Feminine dresses abounded, a sea of colors and silks. They were long and flowing, barely there scarves held together by sheer luck. One in particular drew and held her attention. It was a drapery of ivory, threaded with gold. Both the hem and leg slit were twined with amber leaves and emerald flowers. Jewels sparkled from the deep vee in the bodice.

  "Once you have bathed and dressed, Shaye, we will have breakfast."

  She snorted. "I'm not bathing until there's a lock on the door."

  "A lock would not keep me out if I wanted in."

  He was right, she realized with frustration.

  "You will feel better after a bath."

  "I'll feel better once I'm home," she told him darkly.

  "Must I state the obvious?" He sighed. "Again?"

  Her teeth ground together, causing her jaw to ache. "What about that warrior? Joachim?"

  "We will deal with him when he awakens." The words growled from low in Valerian's chest.

  Her fingers tightened over the ivory fabric; it was cool and soft against her fingertips. Do not think about Joachim. You'll only drive yourself to panic. The dresses, she'd think about the dresses. Once more, her gaze slid over the one she held. She had never worn anything so feminine. Never owned anything so feminine, for that matter. This was something an ancient Greek or Roman queen would have worn. Luscious and exquisite. Not a stitch out of place or a flaw to be seen.

  "Whose room is this?" she asked. Valerian had said it was his—hadn't he?—but surely he would not own this many gowns.

  "The room is mine," was his answer.

  She faced the door. His silhouette paced back and forth, a large slash of black. A phantom. "Do you often wear women's clothing, Valerian?"

  "Gods, no!"

  She grinned at the affront in his voice. "Then why do you have all these robes?" The answer slammed into her, and she lost her grin. They were for his women. His too-numerous-to-count conquests.

  "Shaye," he said warily.

  To wear the gowns was to imply she was one of his women. "I do not belong to you, and I will not dress as if I do." She turned away from the closet, from the lovely ivory silk she wanted so badly to slip over her head. She'd suffer in her shells and grass skirt, thank you very much, rather than proclaim herself Valerian's lover. Even in so small a way.

  Tiny allowances like that one could open the door to other, more severe allowances. Like giving in to his expert touch.

  "We could bargain," he cajoled.

  What was with the man and his bargaining? "I wear one of the gowns and you'll... what?"

  "Kiss you?"

  She gulped and had to blank her mind against the passionate images trying to force their way inside. "You really need to work on your bargaining skills. They suck." Had her voice shaken?

  "I would like t
o," he muttered. "Suck you, that is."

  Her cheeks fused with heat, and a tremor stole over her. "I don't want your kisses." There. Finally, at long last, she knew she sounded convincing.

  "A fake protest, if I've ever heard one."

  "Offer something else!" she demanded, before she pounded out of the room and slapped him.

  "Such as? And do not mention taking you to the surface, for you know I will not negotiate on that point."

  "I don't know why I'm even talking to you." She huffed out a hot breath. "Stubborn, that's what you are."

  "Do not change if that is your desire. I am not forcing you, moon. I like seeing your skin. I see it, and I imagine myself licking it."

  O-kay. So. She couldn't stay dressed in the shells and grass, after all.

  Shivering, with molten lava running through her veins, she gazed around the room. Valerian's room, he'd said. She remembered seeing male clothing when she'd searched the place last night. Where... where... the vanity! She grinned as she raced to the thick, intricately carved marble beauty. The drawers slid out easily. Inside the top one lay stack upon stack of shirts. They were huge and would swim on her, but at least they would cover her (apparently lickable) skin.

  With a quick glance at the doorway, she tore off the hated shells and tossed them on the floor with relief. She tugged on a shirt, and the black, buttery-soft material made her sigh in delight. The second drawer held pants, all leather, all black. The fact that they were folded so neatly struck her as... odd. Domestic.

  These nymphs were anything but domesticated.

  She wouldn't have doubted if the women she'd seen leaving the room last night were responsible. Caring for all of Valerian's needs, even his laundry.

  A spark of jealousy burned inside of her. "No, that's not true. I am not jealous," she muttered in a futile attempt to convince herself. Motions clipped, she unwound the grass from her waist, letting it pool on the ground, then tugged on the pants. She had long legs, but even so the panels of material dwarfed her. She had to roll the hem numerous times and belt the waist with a scarf from one of the gowns in the closet. She slipped on her sandals.

  There were no mirrors (unless she counted the ones above the bed), so she had to guess how she looked. Ridiculous, she was sure. Sloppy. And that, to her way of thinking, was perfect. She wanted that too-intense Joachim guy to find her completely unattractive.

  Valerian, too, she reminded herself.

  As she stood there, deciding what to do next, Valerian's masculine scent wafted to her, filling her nostrils. Strong, spicy. So arousing her nipples hardened, abrading the shirt she now wore. Why was she smelling him? She wasn't by the door, wasn't even close.

  She twisted and turned, only then realizing the heady fragrance curled from the clothes. Her eyes widened. Wretched clothes! Wonderful clothes. Had he worn them? Had they touched his body? An ache throbbed between her legs.

  She'd never been a sexual creature, and these new, continued sensations rocked her. How long could she deny them? How long could she resist? She'd wondered before, but the answer suddenly seemed imminent. She almost ripped the shirt and pants off. She did moan, the sound raw and needy.

  "What are you doing in there?" Valerian asked, his voice tight, drawn.

  Did he know she was aroused? He couldn't know. Please, don't let him know. "I was—I'm just hungry."

  For several seconds he didn't speak. She used the time to calm herself down, to recite math equations in her mind. If he knew just how vulnerable she was to him, he'd pounce without mercy.

  "Come, moon," he said evenly. "I will feed you."

  She swallowed past the sudden lump in her throat. She'd eat breakfast with him because she needed out of this room and needed to keep up her strength. Then she could escape him and search the palace for a way out. A way home. She couldn't stay here. Couldn't stay with this potent man a moment longer than necessary.

  "Let's get this over with," she muttered.

  CHAPTER 10

  JOACHIM LAY IN HIS BED, his arms propped under his head. Scowling, he stared up at the glistening crystal, wishing he could take comfort in the plethora of colors shooting from the jagged shards. Pink, like a woman's nipples. White, like a woman's skin. Russet, like a woman's soulful eyes.

  Alas, he took no comfort.

  Night had long passed, and morning was here. Through it all, his thoughts remained black and refused to settle. He shifted and eyed the wall of weapons he'd acquired over the years. A weapon for every man he'd slain. Their numbers were so vast, he'd long ago lost count. He was not ashamed of that. No, he reveled in his victories.

  That was why his behavior last night cut his pride so deeply.

  After leaving Valerian and Shaye, he had brought the two females to his room. He'd been about to enter one; he'd held his cock in his hand, poised, ready. She'd been willing, so willing, writhing in passion, opening herself wider. And he'd stopped. Stopped!

  As he had stared down at her, the sense of all-consuming need had abandoned him. There one moment, gone the next. An image of the dark-headed witch he'd wanted so badly at the selection ceremony, the one with the curly hair and ripe little body, had flashed through his mind. Suddenly he'd wanted her. Only her. He'd pictured her in Shivawn's arms, moaning, mindless with pleasure, and a terrible rage had overcome him.

  Joachim's two bed partners had tried their hardest to excite him after that, but they'd failed. He should have taken them anyway. He needed to sate himself and regain his strength. Yet... he'd sent them away to find another lover and pleasured himself instead.

  Still. He was as weak as before. But at least Valerian, too, would be weakened this day, having gone without a woman's touch. His mate's touch, if he were to be believed. Mate. How Joachim wanted to find his, that one woman who would love him above all others.

  He sighed. He didn't want to take the pale woman from Valerian. She did not excite him. Not really. Not like the dark-headed one with her sensual, lush curves, her innocent and wild contradictions. What was her name? She hadn't said. Hadn't spoken at all. He wondered what her voice would be like. Low and husky? Sweet and soft? If he'd had the opportunity to choose her, the night would have ended differently. Damn Shivawn for taking her and forcing him to change his plan.

  As his friend had led the lovely witch from the room, Joachim had decided to console himself by taking Valerian's crown.

  He liked and admired his cousin, but he liked and admired power more.

  Joachim did not enjoy being told what to do. He never had. He preferred to give the orders, to have others do his bidding. Even his women. He was master. He was commander.

  His cousin ruled with an iron fist, expecting total and complete obedience. It was time to change that. It was time for Joachim to rule.

  Valerian had offered to fight him, true, but Joachim could not become king that way. No, Valerian had to willingly agree to surrender his throne. Would he? Valerian had had a night to consider his options, to realize there was only one thing to be done to keep the pale woman.

  "The crown will be mine," Joachim snarled.

  Some men were meant for greatness. Some were... not. And Valerian had made many foolish mistakes lately. The first and most important was leaving the nymph females behind to take this palace. The women were now lost, no trace of them to be found in either the Inner or Outer City. Yes, Valerian had a contingent of men searching for them even now. But that wasn't enough. They would not need finding if the king had brought them along in the first place.

  The second and most unforgivable mistake Valerian had made was not letting the men travel to the surface until yesterday, when their strength was nearly drained. The palace needed guarding, true, but the men could not guard if they were weak.

  I would not have allowed such things to happen. His eyes narrowed. The pale woman was simply a means to an end. He'd seen the way Valerian hovered over her, protecting her, silently willing the warriors away from her. So Joachim had chosen her, hoping his cousin would
do anything to keep her.

  His hope had paid off.

  And perhaps, when he became sovereign, he would simply take the dark-haired witch from Shivawn. He grinned at the thought.

  Oh, he was going to like being king.

  WHEN SHAYE BRUSHED ASIDE the door cloth and stepped toward him, Valerian's breath caught in his throat, burning like the hottest fire.

  Would she always affect him this way?

  She wore his shirt, his pants, and even though they bagged on her slight frame, she was the most beautiful sight he'd ever beheld. The dome's rainbow flecks glistened over her cheeks. Like a siren she was, luring him, tempting him. He would willingly go to his death for her.

  "If you're going to tell me to change," she said, challenge in her voice, "save your breath."

  Tell her to change? Never. "I like you just as you are."

  Surprise darkened her eyes, making the brown velvet swirl with black.

  He held out his hand, not touching her, but needing to. So badly he wanted her to accept him. He wanted her willing. Wanted her to find joy in each and every moment of contact they shared, as he did.

  That glorious gaze of hers flicked to his palm. Slowly the color abandoned her cheeks. So pale now, he thought. She could have been a dream, a ghost. A phantom come to torment him.

  A flicker of something blanketed her expression. Pain? Panic? "No. No touching." She shook her head, punctuating the words. She even whipped her hands behind her back, as if to remove temptation.

  Hearing her rejection, he decided to push her—to see how far she would allow him to push her, really. He wanted her touch too much to admit defeat so early in the game. "Sweet moonbeam, why won't you acquiesce over something so small? I am not asking for more than a touch." Yet.

  "Please. I'm not stupid. One touch will lead to one kiss. One kiss will lead—" She flushed, returning that heavenly, rosy glow to her skin. She cleared her throat. "You get the picture." Chin high, she sailed past him. But she stopped abruptly at the fork of doorways. She didn't turn to face him. "Which way is breakfast?"