The Nymph King

mouth.

He eased onto the bench beside her. 'Warriors battle. Warriors kill. Warriors seduce. They do not cook. That is a servant's job.'

'What if all your servants get sick and can't work? What if all your servants are stolen? What will all your big, strong warriors do then, huh?'

He blinked, the idea never having occurred to him. Who would be foolish enough to steal from a nymph? 'We would acquire new servants.'

'Typical,' she said dryly. Her gaze traveled the room.

Looking for a way out? he wondered. He wouldn't doubt if she'd engaged him in this conversation about servants just to distract him. He let her do it, though. Talking with her excited him. 'How is such a thing typical?' He leaned back and bit into a strawberry. How he would have loved to trace the berry over her lips and lick the juice away.

'In my experience, men such as yourself are—'

'Men such as myself?' he interjected.

'Yes.'

'What kind of man is that?'

Her gaze returned to him, and she seemed to forget her search. 'Arrogant. Bossy. Chauvinistic. Pigheaded. Stubborn. Half-witted. Spoiled. Demanding. Self-absorbed. Morally corrupt.'

When she paused for breath, he grumbled, 'Is that all?'

'No. Horny. Overbearing. Mean.' She paused, tapped a finger against her lips, then nodded. 'That's all. Anyway, as I was saying. Men are—'

''Mean'?' He frowned. 'I have been the epitome of nice to you, catering to your every need. Have I not clothed you? Fed you? Kept you safe and warm? Refrained from making love to you?'

She pursed her lips. 'Did you not steal me from everything I hold dear? Have you not refused over and over again to let me go?'

Unconcerned, he waved a hand through the air. 'One day you will thank me for my refusal. Now, please continue with your explanation of my 'typical' male behavior.'

'Fine.' She raised her chin, looking down at him. 'But you won't like it.'

'Nevertheless. I will listen. Because I am nice.'

'Nice? Really? To save your male pride from doing something you consider beneath you, you would rather steal someone from their home and their family so they can do it for you.' She bit into a strawberry of her own, white teeth sinking into the fruit. Droplets of juice trickled down her chin. 'I'm living proof.'

His body tensed. Once again he was overcome with the desire to lick juice off of her lips and chin, perhaps cover the rest of her with strawberry juice, as well, and lick that, too. Several sweetly tart droplets would pool in her navel, of course, before dripping to the pale, silvery hair between her legs. She would writhe when his tongue followed the liquid. She would tunnel her hands in his hair. Her knees would squeeze his temples.

The fantasy came to a halt when she wiped the naughty juice away and scowled over at him. 'You're staring at me, and I don't like it. Stop.'

Her voice held a strangled edge, as if she fought a wave of anger—or desire.

'Yes, I'm staring,' he said. 'You are a beautiful woman.' He popped another grape into his mouth and relished her dismayed shock. Normally he ate his share of fish, as well as the fruit, but right now he hungered only for Shaye. His woman. His mate.

'Do you have no reaction to my words, then?' She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. 'I all but called you dishonorable.'

'Why should I react to your words? They are true. I would rather steal someone from their home than cook for myself.'

Her mouth fell open, forming a delightful O.

He arched a brow. 'My easy admission surprises you, I see.'

'Well, yeah.' She regarded him warily.

'I have only ever taken those in need of a better life, Shaye, or those I thought I could give an easier life, whether they thought they needed it or not. The men who prepared this meal were slaves to the demons before I stole them. They were forced to steal, kill and destroy, and would have one day become the main course of a demon meal. Believe me, they are grateful that I took them.' He leaned back on the bench, stretching out the long length of his legs, watching her, gauging. 'Perhaps, though, you will help me see the error of my ways. I am more than willing to let you try to convince me of my terrible deeds—over and over again. I listen best when the speaker is naked.'

As he watched her, a flush of pink suffused her cheeks. Another blush. The hedonistic women of his acquaintance were as comfortable with sex and erotic banter as he was. That Shaye found the topic risqué enough to blush excited him. Mesmerized him.

He had to touch her.

He was just leaning toward her, outstretching his hand to see if that blush of hers gave off any heat and perhaps spread to her breasts, when two of his warriors strode into the room. Disappointed, he fell back into his chair.

Both men wore wide, toothy smiles of sheer bliss. Their faces were completely relaxed, utterly radiant. Power emanated from them. Each wore gilded breastplates, black pants and jewel-studded armbands. After their night of loving, they were ready to train.

'Good morning, great king,' Broderick said. His voice had never sounded so joyful.

'This is the best of days, is it not?' Dorian sighed happily.

They whistled as they circled the table and heaped their plates with food. They must have worked up hearty appetites during the long hours of the night. Valerian glared at them. He had yet to sample Shaye's sweetness— yes, he knew she would taste sweet—so no, this was not the best of days.

A few seconds later, Shivawn entered. He wasn't smiling, wasn't relaxed. No, he was stiff and glowered at everyone. He slammed himself onto the bench beside Valerian, hair beads rattling, and silently filled his plate with the food in front of him. He didn't bother to reach for anything more.

Had his woman denied him? Valerian wondered. He and Shivawn probably wore the same expression. 'Where is your chosen?'

'Sleeping,' Broderick and Dorian replied in unison, as if he'd asked the question of them. Their grins grew wider, and they slapped each other on the backs.

'Flying through the gates of Olympus,' Dorian added.

'Did you stop and make sure the women were willing before you bedded them?' Shaye asked, her tone dripping with loathing.

Dorian blinked at her, the question foreign to him.

Broderick chuckled. 'Your woman is amusing,' he said to Valerian.

'Amusing?' She popped to her feet with an angry growl. 'I am not amusing when discussing rape.'

At least she hadn't denied the fact that she belonged to him, Valerian thought, pleased.

'As if a woman would turn me down,' Broderick said.

'Believe me, it happens,' Shivawn muttered. He swiped up his plate and stalked from the room without another word.

Everyone watched him leave, each with a different reaction. Broderick—laughter. Dorian—intensified confusion. Shaye—satisfaction.

'FYI, gentlemen,' she said, drawing attention back to herself. 'Just because your mojo entrances a woman doesn't mean she truly, deep in her soul, wants you.'

'Mojo?' Having no more room on his plate, Dorian eased into the empty seat beside Valerian. 'What is that?'

'Doesn't matter.' Shaye crossed her arms over her chest, causing the neckline of her shirt to gape and reveal soft hints of her breasts. 'What matters is this—if the women knew you, your personality, your likes, your dislikes, your past, your plans for the future, would they want you still?'

If a woman knew you echoed through Valerian's mind. Not an altogether welcome thought, either. He'd never taken the time to discuss his life—past, present or future—with any of his bedmates. He