The Nymph King

responded to two today.

'How?'

People always asked, as if they were inquiring about the weather or about where she bought her shoes. In the beginning, the question had thrown her, brought back the horrible memories of being pinned down and choked by her enraged, jealous boyfriend. Now she always answered with a casual, 'car accident,' but she doubted this archaic warrior would understand what that meant.

Brenna bit her lip and leaned toward him. Tentative, she wrapped one of her hands gently around his neck and shook, then pointed to her own neck with the other.

His eyes narrowed, and his hands closed over her wrists, far more gently than before. 'Someone choked you?'

Nod.

'A man?' The words were so quiet she barely heard them.

Again she nodded.

'No touching,' the man in the doorway said, probably just noticing. 'The king's orders. Release her, Joachim.'

She'd forgotten about him.

Joachim's eyes darted to the guard, and he scowled. The two men engaged in a heated conversation in a language she didn't understand. During it all, Joachim retained that gentle grip on her.

She finally managed to jerk herself free, though. Relief swept through her, and she rubbed her wrist. Where he'd touched, the skin was warm. Sensitive. The man was frightening, volatile, violent; qualities she abhorred. She should not like his touch.

'Would you like me to kill him for you?' Joachim asked, surprising her.

She blinked in confusion and pointed to the sentinel at the door.

'No. The one who hurt you.'

She hesitated a moment, then shook her head.

'Power is good,' he said, his voice suddenly growing weak. 'Hurting a woman is not.' His eyelids drifted closed, but he pried them open.

She didn't know whether he believed what he'd said or not. Either way, he struck her as one of those people who could not control their actions when they were enraged. After today's sword fight...

'What's your name?' he asked.

'Brenna.'

'Brenna,' he said, the name like a treat savored on his tongue. But in the next instant, his mouth pulled tight in a grim line. Fury darkened his eyes, churning like a violent sea. 'Where is Shivawn?'

She found herself rising from the bed, trembling. In the blink of an eye, he'd become angry. Why? What had she done?

He frowned as his eyelids dipped shut once more. 'Why are you backing away from me, woman? Are you going back to your lover?' The last was sneered.

Before he could rise from the bed and grab her, she turned and fled the room, unsure where to go. Only knowing she had to leave this place. Had to leave him.

JOACHIM FORCED his eyelids to open and cursed long after Brenna had gone. He'd never felt so powerless, and the feeling infuriated him. He didn't want her to go to Shivawn. He wanted her to stay. With him. Wanted her to talk to him.

Had he been able, he would have vaulted from the bed and forced her to return. He was master here. But he couldn't even comfort her or thank her properly for taking care of him. Instead, Shivawn had the privilege. Not that the man would thank Brenna for helping him.

'Follow her, damn you,' he commanded Broderick, who stood in the doorway. 'Make sure she arrives at her destination safely.'

'You had best watch who you order about,' the warrior growled before taking off after Brenna.

Joachim wanted to blame Valerian for this predicament, but he couldn't. He'd issued the challenge, and his cousin had beaten him fairly. As a man who valued power and control above all else, he respected Valerian's win. And, at the moment, he understood his cousin's need for the pale woman, his willingness to do anything to keep her.

Joachim would have done anything just then to have Brenna.

CHAPTER 15

HIS OWN WOMAN wanted him to stay away from her so badly that she'd held a weapon on him, Valerian thought as he stormed into the dining hall. 'My own mate,' he grumbled. 'Refusing to pleasure me. Refusing to let me pleasure her.'

Sadly, he knew not what to do about the situation.

Except, perhaps, drink himself into oblivion.

He halted abruptly when he spied Shivawn at the table, a different flask in each hand. The man already had red, glassy eyes and was wobbling in his chair.

Shivawn was young, nearing one hundred years of age. A babe, really, compared to Valerian's six hundred. Shivawn was a strong warrior, though, and swift on his feet. He did not hesitate to render a death blow to his foes. In fact, if an enemy needed torturing, Shivawn would volunteer for the job.

Good man, that.

However, Shivawn was impulsive, led by his emotions. Perhaps he was that way because his father had been staid, a rule follower in the extreme. Never deviating. Like Valerian's own father. Neither of them wanted to end up like their sires. Both men had died battling demons. Demons who had claimed to be allies, only to change their minds during a peace talk and slaughter every nymph present.

Such was the way with demons. Valerian, of course, had gathered the men, babe that he'd been, and attacked their camp the very next day. Much blood had spilled during the ensuing battle. Demon blood. It had been his first victory—the first of many.

Where was his victory now? He could defeat an army of demons, but not one small wisp of a woman.

'Women,' Shivawn groused.

'Women,' Valerian agreed. He plopped beside the warrior and grabbed one of the flasks. Only half of the liquid remained. He drained the contents in one gulp. Unfortunately, he found no comfort in the river burning to his stomach.

'My bedmate doesn't want me,' Shivawn said bitterly. 'How is that possible? I am a nymph.'

'As am I. I am king. I rule this place. My word is law.'

'Maybe—maybe Brenna only likes other women.'

'Ha! Her sexual preference doesn't matter. All women like nymphs. They adore us.'

Shivawn's shoulders slumped. 'I do not understand her. She actually fears me. Fears me, as if I am a monster who wants only to hurt her. I have never hurt a woman, Valerian. Never. All women worship me. Desire me.' He sighed heavily.

'Why are you complaining? Your woman did not hold you at sword's length.' Valerian confiscated the other flask and drained it. 'Besides, Brenna is not your mate. Why do you not find another lover?' Oh, that he could take his own advice. He should find another since Shaye did not want him.

No, that wasn't true. She wanted him. He'd seen the desire in her eyes, heard it in her voice, watched the way her nipples beaded. She just didn't want to want him, and so fought him every step of the way.

Their kiss, though...

She'd erupted, come alive. A living spark. She hadn't hidden her desire then. She'd reveled in it. Her body had burned for his, desperate for him to quench the seemingly unstoppable need.

Why do you not find another? drifted again through his mind. His hands clenched