The Nymph King

Shaye's mouth flailed open and closed, each time emitting a strangling sound. 'You're treating those women like objects, and what do you mean elsewhere?' She pointed a finger at Crosse, but her gaze remained on Valerian. 'What if the woman he picks doesn't want to leave with him? What then?'

'You have doubt of their willingness?' Valerian motioned to the writhing foursome with a tilt of his chin. 'They are eating him alive even now.'

Her eyes narrowed on them, and she humphed. 'Well, you still sound like a pimp,' she muttered. Then, louder, 'Stand up for yourselves, girls. Tell these men you won't take part in their debauchery.'

In lieu of a response, all three ran their tongues over Crosse's bare chest and back. The man whimpered in unadulterated bliss. Shaye pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head.

'Take your woman, Crosse, and go.'

'Thank you, my king.' Crosse grabbed the brunette, who was even then trying to slip her hand into his pants, and raced away with her. Her giggles echoed behind her.

The other two groaned at the loss of their lover... until they spied Valerian. They clapped and laughed in renewed delight. He backed away. He even thrust Shaye in front of him as a shield.

'I am mated,' he told them. Mated nymphs did not usually draw females with the same potency and fever as unmated ones. These women might want him still, but they would never again want him beyond reason. Beyond all sense of self.

Perhaps humans did not know that was the way of things, for they sauntered toward him, undeterred.

'Back off, ladies,' Shaye suddenly barked. They obeyed instantly, their features crumbling in a pout.

Valerian blinked in surprise. Had that been jealousy in Shaye's tone? Possessiveness? Dare he hope? 'Joachim is in need of a lover,' he said, pointing.

Their gazes slid to the warrior in question—whose eyes were widening in suspicion. And anticipation. Both women grinned slowly and sashayed to him without question.

'You are so big,' the blonde cooed.

'And strong,' added the redhead.

Joachim backed away, determined to resist. 'I have made a choice?' he said, but the words were a question rather than a statement. 'The... the pale one is to be my next bed partner, and I must guard her door this night. For that reason, you... can... not... touch... me. Touch me.' The last was an unrestrained moan of helpless capitulation.

They'd reached him, and their hands were already on him, stroking. Their warm breath was probably bathing his skin; their eager scent likely filling his nose. Valerian almost grinned. Perhaps I have already lost my honor, he thought, even as he said, 'Shaye will not mind if you do not stand guard at her door this night. A man has needs, and she knows that.'

'Needs,' the lost-in-a-passion-haze warrior repeated, dazed.

'I want your naked skin sliding against mine,' the blonde said, breathless.

'I want you, hot in my mouth.'

Joachim audibly swallowed. 'Valerian,' he began.

'Go. I will see you in the morning.'

'The pale one—'

'Will remain untouched.' Tonight. 'I have given you my word.'

'I trust you.' Joachim strode away then, a sexually charged woman on each arm. Valerian doubted they would make it to a room. Most likely, Joachim was already naked and inside one, pinning her against the wall—

A woman's ecstatic cry of pleasure rang out.

Valerian finally allowed his grin to peek through. Joachim was occupied, and he had Shaye alone. But he couldn't taste her or caress her body, he reminded himself. He'd given his word, after all, and his cousin trusted him. He lost his smile.

'Unbelievable,' Shaye muttered.

He gripped her shoulders and twisted her around, letting her see his frown. 'Just what do you find so unbelievable?'

'The amount of communal sex to be had, of course. Haven't you people heard of diseases?'

She looked so lovely standing there in her pique. So surreal, like the moonbeam he called her. Lust coiled strong fingers through his blood. He'd touched the softness of her skin today, but had yet to taste her. He'd held her, but had yet to make love to her.

The sounds of loving echoed from every corridor of the palace, audible even in this remote hideaway. Shaye's cheeks pinkened. How he would have loved to taste that color in her cheeks, to see if it was as pure as it appeared. His cock hardened painfully.

Now that they were alone, his body wanted only to learn hers. To strip her. To sink into her. To pound, hard and fast, a never-ending rhythm. She looked at him, as if she herself had just realized they were finally alone, and her nostrils flared. In desire?

He had to have her, honor be damned. Had to—He fisted his hands at his sides to keep himself from reaching out.

'Shaye, listen to me very closely.' The words were nothing more than a growl of barely restrained need. 'I want you, but I cannot have you. If you do not go inside that room right now, I'm going to forget that I'm not supposed to have you. I'm going to take you. I'll rip away your clothes and taste every inch of you.'

As he spoke, she inched away from him. Her eyes widened, impossibly round, velvet-brown with sparks of, dare he say, need?

'The cloth behind you covers the only doorway. If you cross it, even once, I will view it as an invitation to take what I so desperately crave.'

The total conviction in his voice must have frightened her. Pallid, she spun around and sprinted into the room, pale hair drifting behind her like a cluster of falling stars.

For a long while, the cloth hanging in the doorway rippled, daring him to enter. Finally it stilled, and Valerian covered his face with a shaky hand. Having a mate was going to be hell on his body, it seemed, for he foresaw a long, painful night ahead.

With no real end in sight.

CHAPTER 8

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 of red silk and velvet.

Not daring to breathe, she stared at the sheer, white lace in place of the door.

She remained in that exact position for over an hour, fearful—and, damn it, anticipatory—of Valerian following her inside the room. That look in his eyes when she'd left him... she'd never encountered anything quite so scorching. So blistering. If she'd reached out, the heat from his gaze would have burned her skin.

She gulped. Seeing him like that, she'd felt as if she'd traveled too close to the sun, ready to combust into flames at any moment. A part of her had wanted to combust.

On Earth, or rather the surface, she didn't have to worry about that sort of thing. Desire, thankfully, wasn't a part of her life. Her employees were female; she'd purposefully kept the office testosterone-free to avoid temptation.

'Relationships,' she muttered. Ugh. It wasn't that she'd watched her mother devour men like candy or that she'd witnessed her father plow through women like a linebacker. It wasn't the stepdads who had tried to sneak into her room, forcing her to hide in shadowy corners just to get a little sleep. It wasn't even the charmingly sly men she'd dated in that brief, curious period of her life.

It was the fear that she would turn out to be just like them, a slave to her own desires. A fool for love.