The Nymph King

around the empty flasks, and he slammed them onto the tabletop. He didn't want another woman. Couldn't abide the thought of having another in his bed, actually. His arms craved Shaye. His legs craved Shaye. His cock craved Shaye. She exuded a special scent, and every part of him recognized other women as imitations. Imposters.

Shaye had wrapped him in a terrible and wonderful and hated and loved... lust. Consuming lust. How could he win her? She'd said she craved her home and her job. Well, he could not give her the first, but he could give her the second. Anti-cards, she'd said. She liked to write, she'd said. First thing in the morning he would deliver canvas and writing stones.

Would that melt her resistance?

He could only hope.

Aside from winning her affections, he wanted to know everything about her. Her past, her present, her future. What had made her the woman that she was? While he wanted to ram her defenses into the ground, just plow right through them, he suspected she would need gentle wooing. He sighed.

'... can't find them,' Shivawn said.

'I am sorry. I was thinking of Shaye. What did you say?'

Frowning, Shivawn plucked a crumb from the table and tossed it aside. 'The only women without lovers are the three surface women who came here first. I cannot find them. And believe me, I have searched.'

'They are around here somewhere.' He rubbed his jaw. 'They will show up sometime, I am sure. You can claim one and give your black-haired wench to another warrior.'

'Women,' Shivawn said again. He stood, stalked to the kitchens and returned with an armful of bejeweled flasks.

'Women,' Valerian agreed. He quickly drained two of them, the contents no longer burning. 'I have told Shaye how much pleasure I can give her, but she does not listen.'

'Perhaps she needs to hear a few testimonials from your former lovers.'

He blinked. In his current state, that didn't seem like such a bad idea. She could assume his profession was nothing more than pride, but she would have to believe the women who'd actually experienced the bliss of his touch. Wouldn't she? Nothing else had convinced her.

'I do not think Brenna would care about testimonials.' Shivawn's voice was a little slurred. 'I think she would still fear me. Women,' he growled. 'We don't need them.'

'Don't need them,' Valerian parroted, raising yet another flask. But the declaration tasted foul in his mouth. His survival depended on Shaye, so yes, he needed her.

'I'm becoming weak as a babe,' Shivawn admitted. 'Earlier, I tripped and fell in the hall like a clumsy dragon hatchling.'

'The gods surely cursed us when they bound us to sex.'

'Before coming here I would have said they blessed us. I would have said we were obviously their favored.'

Neither of them had that illusion at the moment.

'Much longer,' Shivawn added, 'and not even self-pleasuring will help me.'

'Don't our women know we have needs?'

For a long while, neither man spoke. Shivawn finally said, 'I don't think I ever want to find my mate. Perhaps I will wander all of Atlantis, servicing every woman I encounter.'

'The danger in that, my friend, is that many women will become enslaved to you. And since there will be no other nymphs with you, you will have to see to their needs. All of their needs, on your own. They will become resentful of the time you spend with the others—and if they left behind a spurned lover, that lover will hunt you down for vengeance.'

Shivawn glared at him. 'Thank you for destroying my dream,' he said dryly.

'You are welcome.'

'Theophilus's human mate isn't giving him problems. Why is that, do you think? What is he doing that we are not?'

Valerian linked his fingers behind his neck and leaned back, casting his eyes to the ceiling. He blinked in surprise. Two mermaids had their breasts, hands and faces pressed to the crystal, gazing down at him and Shivawn.

When they realized he'd spotted them, they smiled prettily and waved. He returned the greeting, but he was groaning inside. He pinched the bridge of his nose—a gesture he'd caught Shaye making a few times. These girls wanted him, would have welcomed him eagerly if he but asked (and even if he didn't). Why wouldn't Shaye?

Shivawn slapped his arm to gain his attention. 'Do you not have an answer?'

'I have forgotten your question,' he said, looking away from the mermaids. 'Sorry.'

'You are distracted.' A statement, not a question.

'Yes.'

'I wish to know why Theophilus's human mate gives him no trouble.'

Valerian, too, would have liked to know the answer to that. He pictured the woman in question. She was a timid little bird. Plain, yet possessing a deliciously plump body made for a man's hands. She had put up no fight whatsoever. Had simply taken one look at Theophilus and offered herself to him.

Next he pictured Shaye, who wanted the world to think of her as arctic and untouchable. Who would not speak of her family. Whose loveliness blinded him to all others. 'Perhaps our women have secrets—sad, painful secrets. Secrets that allow them to hold themselves away from us and remain unaffected.'

He knew Shaye had secrets.

Unlocking them was becoming an obsession. A necessity. Like breathing. Like sex. If she again refused to tell him, well, he might be reduced to plying her with drink. One way or another, he would learn the truth about her.

She would tell him every detail of her life. And in the telling, perhaps he would find the key to softening her and winning her heart.

Shivawn jerked a hand through his dark hair, and the beads clanged together. 'I will try and divine Brenna's secrets, and see if she will have me afterward,' he said, parroting Valerian's thoughts. He paused. 'This... working to win a woman. It is not fun.'

'No.'

'I have learned I do not like challenges.'

'As have I.'

'Women,' Shivawn grumbled.

'Women,' Valerian agreed.

They clinked their flasks together and drank deeply.

SHAYE LAY ON THE BED, wondering where Valerian was, what he was doing. Who he was doing.

Was he with another woman?

He'd been aroused when he left her. Painfully, utterly aroused. He professed to want no woman but her, but men often changed their minds. Especially when they were aroused and one woman told them no.

She wadded the silk sheets in her hands. She was mad at herself. Since Valerian had stormed out, she hadn't tried to escape. No, she'd bathed. She'd thought of Valerian. She'd tried on the pretty gowns in the closet. She'd thought of Valerian. She'd lain down for a nap.

She'd wanted Valerian.

She'd... missed him.

She dreamed of him when she closed her eyes and desired him when she opened them. There was no escaping the man's appeal.

The day had passed. Night had come and gone, and morning had once more appeared. Neither offered her any relief. Today, she decided, she was going home. There could be no more lingering. No more distractions. She'd come too close, too damn close, to giving in and stripping for him. To allowing Valerian to take her—body and soul.

He was too dangerous. Too potent.

'Come.'