The Nymph King

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 to,' 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.