The Nymph King

'Dragons spew fire and eat humans as tasty snacks. They'll want their palace back.'

'Yes.'

Her eyes widened at his nonchalance. 'And that doesn't bother you? The thought of battling such fierce creatures?'

'No. Why should it?' His chest seemed to expand before her eyes. 'I am fiercer. I am stronger.'

God save her from male arrogance. 'Sorry I don't share your confidence,' she said dryly.

He frowned. 'If the thought of dragons scares you—'

'Terrifies me,' she interjected.

'How will you react when I introduce you to the vampires?'

A strangled gasp wheezed from her throat, and she covered her mouth with a shaky hand. 'I'm not meeting vampires.'

'They are our friends.'

He'd said our. He hadn't said my. But our, as if they were already a couple. 'You told me those creatures were in Atlantis, but I never thought you'd make me interact with them! Vampires drink blood, Valerian.'

'They will not drink yours.'

Grrr. There was no arguing with him. He had a response for everything. 'That's right, they won't. I'm not meeting them, and I'm not staying here.'

'Vampires are our allies. You have nothing to fear from them. You have nothing to fear from anyone in this land. I will always protect you. With my own body, if necessary.' His voice dipped with sexy, husky promise, once again flashing images of naked bodies, sweat-soaked skin and quivering pleasure through her mind. Grrr!

'You know, if you had any chance of convincing me to stay here—which you didn't—you blew it with talk of dragons and vampires.'

He shook his head, his brow furrowed. 'How you distract me, woman. Why are we discussing this now? I have a battle to win. A woman to claim,' he said as he tugged her back into motion.

Crap. The battle. In the distance she could make out the sound of swords clanging together. Grunts. Male laughter. Excitement.

'I'm going to say this one more time. I don't want you to fight.'

He lost his air of affection. He stopped, turned and took a menacing step toward her. Close enough that she felt the heat of his skin, the heady scent of it. Saw the flecks of blue and green in his eyes, brighter than the most precious jewels. He became utterly wrapped in malevolence.

'I warned you what would happen if you voiced such doubt in my ability again. I am powerful, a force to be feared, and I will have your faith.'

If he expected her to apologize or back away, he did not get his wish. She stepped toward him, destroying even more of the open space between them. Where she attained such bravado, she didn't know. She only knew she could not let him in that ring. 'And I told you I didn't give a shit about your warning.'

Sconces blazed from the walls, their glow flickering over the contours of his face. Shadows and light fought for dominance, playing over his cheeks. He suddenly appeared even more harsh than he had a moment ago.

Tendrils of desire, the same consuming desire she'd encountered when she'd first watched him stride from the ocean, glittered inside her.

'You will,' he said, right before he tangled his fingers in her hair and jerked her to him. Instantly his lips slammed into hers with such force she gasped.

He used her open mouth to his advantage. His hot tongue pushed inside, past her teeth, past any thought of resistance. His big body engulfed her, set her on fire with ethereal flames. Flames that spread with dizzying speed. Wondrous speed. In mere seconds she went from cool, uncaring, untouchable Shaye to wild, aching, never-stop- touching Shaye. A woman who existed only for pleasure. For sex and debauchery. For this man.

He consumed her. Dark need consumed her. And she discovered that she liked being consumed.

His tongue worked hers with expert precision, causing her nerve endings to leap to blissful life. Her nipples hardened, her thighs ached, her stomach quivered. His taste was pure sexual heat, exotic, addictive. She shouldn't want to, knew she should pull away, but she found herself winding her arms around his neck and accepting him fully, demanding more.

A feral growl of satisfaction escaped him, raw, as if he couldn't hold it back.

'Do you want me?' he whispered fiercely.

As always the sound of his wine-rich voice excited her. More so than ever before. He'd been made for her, only her, his every action, every breath, existing simply to please her. The thought was intoxicating. Like the man himself. Heady and sultry and drugging.

'Do you want me?' he asked again.

'No,' she forced out, then contradicted herself by licking the seam of his lips. Who was this wanton woman she'd become?

Valerian's woman drifted across her mind.

His callused hands slid from her neck over each vertebra of her spine and settled softly on the curve of her hips. His fingers gradually scrunched up the hem of her shirt.

'I want you,' he said fiercely. Warm breath fanned her cheek.

There was a reason she should push him away. Yes, there was definitely a reason. A reason she should... drag his mouth back to hers. Taste him again. Feel the strength of his chest straining against her, feel the barely leashed power humming through his blood. Her nipples beaded tighter and hurt, actually hurt, for contact.

He released her shirt and reached under it, his fingers tickling her skin. She gasped in wonder.

'Your nipples ache for me, I know it.' His hot gaze lingered on the area in question, making them pearl all the more.

'No, they don't,' she denied.

'It would be my pleasure to prove it to you. I could stand you in front of a mirror, slowly remove your top, baring your flesh inch by precious inch. I could cup your breasts in my hands, framing your nipples as they cry for me.'

She should have been used to it, expected it even, but the picture he described tunneled into her mind. Valerian behind her, his arms reaching around her, kneading her breasts. One of his phantom hands began a slow, languid glide down her stomach, stopping at the pale curls between her legs.

'I hate that idea,' she lied breathlessly. 'Hate it.' She brought her hands to his chest, her palms over his nipples. They were hard little points her tongue yearned to lick. To suck. As her fingertip curled in the steel loop anchored there, she wanted to lick and suck that, too.

He groaned. 'I like the way you hate.'

Oh, she did, too. Their breaths mingled together. Their gazes locked, a sultry clash of turquoise against brown, passion against passion.

'Hate me some more,' he breathed.

She didn't think to resist. She rose on her tiptoes—her body seemed to have a mind of its own—placing her lips just in front of his. His hands tightened on her waist, the grip needy, hard, commanding. Not allowing escape. He urged the lower half of her closer to him, so close, until she nestled against the long, hard length of his erection.

A hot, raspy gasp shuddered from her. Spears of pleasure arced through her, spawning other bursts of sensation. Needed sensation. Welcome sensation.

'I want to hate you, too,' he told her in that same soft tone. 'I want to hate you hard and fast, the first time. Slow and tender, the second.'

'My king,' someone called.

Shaye heard the voice distantly and despised the interruption. More kisses. She wanted more kisses.

As if Valerian didn't notice the voice—or simply didn't care—his gaze slid to her mouth. Wicked intent gleamed in his eyes. So much desire blazed from him, she had trouble catching her breath. He was a man ready to give her as many kisses as she desired.