The Nymph King

loneliness and disappointment.

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

Was she asking and offering too much? Absolutely. But it was what she wanted, and she wouldn't settle for less—even though she knew it was an impossible dream. Perhaps that was why she wanted it in the first place. If she couldn't have it, she didn't have to worry about heartbreak.

Valerian talked a good talk, and God knows he could probably walk a delectable, mind-shattering walk all over her body, but he'd do the same for any and every woman who caught his fancy. He wanted 'now' from her, a momentary dalliance, no ties afterward.

No, thank you.

She could have had that on the surface.

Silently she worked the room for two hours, feeling every ounce of wall and floor she could reach. To her vast disappointment, frustration and fury, she found no hidden latch. She was stuck here. If she were home, she would be peacefully tucked in bed right now. Alone. And lonely, her mind piped up.

'Shut up, you stupid brain,' she muttered. Lonely was good. Besides, she had a fulfilling life. She would have woken up in the morning, had coffee with her assistant and discussed the day's events. She would have presented a new card idea, probably something along the lines of Congratulations on your new promotion. Before you go, would you mind taking the knife out of my back? You'll probably need it again. Her assistant would have laughed, the rest of the staff would have laughed, and she would have felt like a smart, appreciated person. Not like a confused, horny teenager.

'Go to sleep, moon,' Valerian said, cutting into her thoughts. 'I sense you're upset. Since I cannot comfort you as I would like... '

'Well, you're responsible for it.' She tangled a hand through her hair, nearly ripping out the strands. 'Please, Valerian. Take me back to the beach.'

A pause. Heavy. Thick. 'What is so important there that you must return to it?'

'My home.' Paid in full. 'My job.' Her only real source of accomplishment.

'What was your job?'

He'd used past tense. She made sure to use present. 'I make anti-greeting cards,' she said proudly.

'Tell me of these anti-cards,' he beseeched.

It was a subject she embraced. 'There are many companies that produce sappy I love you, I miss you type salutations. Not mine. They say just the opposite.'

'I am not surprised,' he said, chuckling. 'Can you not make such cards here?'

She could, but she didn't want to, so she ignored his question. God, how was she going to get out of here?

'I notice you do not mention friends and family,' he said a short while later.

Knowing exactly where this conversation was headed, she should have stopped it then. Should have told him to get lost and leave her alone. But for some reason, she didn't. Couldn't. 'That's right,' she found herself saying.

'Why?'

She leaned her forehead against the cool wall and squeezed her eyes closed. Lie. Make him feel guilty. 'I don't have many friends,' she admitted instead, the truth a tangible entity that refused to be denied, 'and I don't get along with my family.'

'Why?' he repeated.

Why, indeed. 'You might have noticed I don't have the sweetest of personalities.'

He barked a quick laugh. 'Yes, perhaps I did notice.'

'That tends to drive people away.' The way she intended. Her hands slid up the glittering stone and anchored beside her head. Telling him about her life was dangerous, giving him ammunition against her, but she couldn't seem to end it. He called to something deep inside her. Something... primitive.

'You have not driven me away,' he said quietly.

'No, I haven't.' She sighed. Why hadn't she? Why hadn't he run from her? Run as fast as his feet could carry him?

'What is so important about your home and job that you cannot stay here with me? I can be your family. I can be your friend. You can sell the cards to me.'

'I worked hard for my home. It's mine. I worked hard to make my job a success. I have nothing here.'

'But you could.' He was still speaking in that soft, tender voice. Let me give you everything, his words implied.

A hot ache squeezed at her chest. She needed to fortify herself against this man, she reminded herself. 'Why are you doing this to me? You could have any of the other women. They would eagerly come to you and do anything you asked of them.'

'They are not you.'

A simple sentence, yes, but it rocked her to the core. Scowling, she straightened. 'What's so special about me, hmm? I defy you to name one thing.'

For a long while he didn't reply, and that both elated and defeated her. Stupid, she chastised herself, to crave praise from him. The goal was to convince him he didn't want her. Right? 'Well?'

Still nothing. Not a single remark or declaration.

'I didn't think so,' she finally muttered. She turned her back to the door and stomped toward the bed, battling despair. She needed to think, to consider all her options. Chatting it up with her abductor wasted valuable time.

She'd stay awake all night if she had to, but she wasn't giving up. She would find a way home. She wouldn't sleep, even though she needed the rest. In slumber, she would become even more vulnerable to Valerian. He would be able to sneak into the room and do whatever he wanted to her—and she would have no idea.

But deep down, she knew that was a lie. A defense against him. When that man pleasured a woman, the woman would know it. Even in sleep, she would know. Her body would sing and weep with pleasure.

The man was a menace.

A menace who couldn't name one thing about her that he liked. Bastard.

'Don't come inside this room,' she barked. 'Do you hear me? And don't speak to me again. I need silence.'

'Shaye.'

His guttural growling of her name froze her in place. He'd sounded like he was in pain, like he was about to fall down a long, dark, never-ending pit. 'What?' She hoped for a waspish tone, but the question emerged as nothing more than a wisp of air. Was he hurt?

'You are the woman of my heart. The one I have been awaiting the whole of my life, though I didn't know it until I spied you. There isn't one thing that makes you special to me, but all things. Now sleep. Tomorrow promises to be a day ripe with unpleasantness.'

Just like that, her knees buckled. She would have fallen flat on her face if she hadn't grabbed the edge of the bed and held herself upright. Dear God. Those words. No one—not her mother, not her father, not brother or sisters or an endless string of nannies—had ever spoken to her like that. Made her feel so important, so necessary.

She barely knew Valerian. In their short time together, she'd railed at him, desired him, cursed him and hit him. Now, with a few words, he made her long to throw herself at him. To destroy every wall she'd ever built, melt every piece of ice she'd ever surrounded herself with, and just throw herself at him.

'Dear God,' she whispered, horrified. Everything she'd ever secretly dreamed of hearing had just come from Valerian's lips. How was she going to resist him now?