The Nymph King

Valerian's fingers continued to pump her, as frantic and insatiable as the kiss.

But then, suddenly, he stopped. Stopped the kiss, stopped the motion of his fingers. Her body throbbed, and a sob nearly burst from her lips.

'What are you doing?' she moaned. She tangled her hands in his hair and tried to force his mouth back to hers. Finally she'd allowed herself to enjoy a man, and he stopped?

'Now I will show you where you are most sensitive, where you will verge on climax every time I touch you.'

Hmm. Yes. 'Hurry.'

Sweat continued to trickle from his temples. The lines of tension around his eyes had deepened, bracketing his features. He, too, needed relief, she realized. Did he ache with an almost unquenchable ferocity like she did? Was he desperate, eager? Did he feel like he would blast past the stars if he didn't touch her again?

His lips brushed her softly, once, twice. 'Your taste... it's like no one else's. Like nothing I've ever had. It's addictive. I think I would die without it.'

Touch me. Make love to me. 'Valerian, I'm glad you like how I taste and everything, but you've got a point to prove here and I'm a little disappointed that I have to remind you of that fact.'

He uttered a labored chuckle. 'You're right. I just need to look at you a moment longer, just need to savor the sight of you. Very soon I will strip you completely. Very soon I will slide your pants over your legs.'

As he spoke, that image filled her mind. She could see very clearly that he was stripping her. He was wrapping his hands around her—

'Ankles,' he said. 'And I bring your foot to my mouth. I lick—'

—the arch, gliding his tongue slowly. She saw it, saw the pictures, more vivid with every second that passed. His mouth moved up her calf, swirling little hearts over her skin before—

'—biting your inner thigh. You pant and writhe, just like you're doing now, and you grow even wetter for me. So wet. I bring your own hand between your legs and watch you touch yourself. You—'

—circle her own finger over her clitoris, watching him all the while. In her mind, his eyes lowered to half-mast and his hand curled around his cock, moving up and down. He told her how much he wanted her mouth to replace his hand, how much he wanted his mouth to replace hers. Then he kissed her but it—

'—wasn't enough. I crave another taste of you, a more intimate taste, and talking about it won't be enough, either. I lower my head between your legs. Your hands grasp my hair, pulling roughly because you're so far gone with need you aren't able to control your reactions.'

She couldn't control her reactions now. By this time, Shaye was writhing insatiably. She still wore her pants, but it actually felt as if phantom hands were working at her, as if a phantom tongue was licking her. She was gasping, her breath hot in her throat.

'Valerian, Valerian,' she chanted. 'Valerian, please.'

'Please what?' His voice was rough, so rough. Husky, so husky.

'Please finish me.'

'But I like savoring you.'

'Show me the most erotic place on my body, damn it. You won't live to savor me if you don't hurry.'

'I'll die of pleasure either way.' His voice broke with arousal. He pinched her clitoris again, and she nearly jumped off the bed. The decadent sensations were acute, almost painful. 'I'm going to taste you here before I love you,' he said. 'And when I love you, you're going to know the most pleasure-receptive place on my body.'

'Your penis?' she gasped out. She was almost beyond speech. It was too much. He was too much. His words, his actions. His very essence.

'No, my—'

'My king,' a voice said urgently.

Valerian stilled. He growled low in his throat, and it was an animal sound. A killing sound.

A moment passed before Shaye realized what was going on. There was a warrior standing at the edge of the bed, his eyes on Valerian, his expression concerned. Losing her passion haze, she screamed and scrambled for the bedcovers. Mortification bombarded her as she covered her bare breasts. Yet still she ached for Valerian.

'Turn around, Broderick,' he growled. His teeth bared in a fierce, lethal scowl. 'I'm close to killing you already.'

Broderick instantly turned.

'Leave us, or I will kill you.'

'Dragons,' Broderick said. He didn't leave as he'd been commanded. 'They are approaching, intent on war.'

CHAPTER 20

VALERIAN COULDN'T BELIEVE someone had entered his room without his knowledge. Even when he was caught up in the most animalistic of his desires, his warrior instincts did not diminish.

Not so with Shaye. With her, he concentrated only on the loving. Such a thing had never happened before.

At the moment he battled a fierce torrent of rage and desire. He had Shaye where he'd wanted and needed her for so long, and now he had to leave her. But her safety came before her seduction. Always.

Her safety came before his own pleasure.

Perhaps he was trapped inside a nightmare, for this was the worst thing that could have happened to him. 'Warn the others,' he told Broderick, the words ripped from him. 'I want everyone in full armor and in the arena. I will be there shortly.'

'Consider it done' was the reply before his second-in-command rushed off.

He rubbed a hand over his face. Gods, he'd known this day would come. Why could it not have come in the morning? 'Broderick,' he called, and the warrior quickly returned. 'Have the women been seen to?'

'They are being hidden even now.'

'Excellent. Go, then. You have your orders.'

Broderick stalked from the room a second time, his hurried footsteps echoing off the walls.

'I'm sorry, moon,' Valerian said, gazing down at Shaye. Color flushed her cheeks; her pale hair splayed over the bed like ribbons of white silk. Her breasts, covered by the violet sheet, were outlined, her nipples pearled. 'I must go.'

She didn't respond.

He didn't know what else to say. Withdrawing from the bed, from her embrace, was the most difficult thing he'd ever done. He wished there was time, at least, to sate her desire and give one of them relief.

As he hurriedly dressed, tugging on his pants and retrieving his chest armor—still stained with blood from today's practice—he realized he was still not at full strength. His grip wasn't as tight, his limbs not as steady. There was no help for it now. He laced up his boots.

'You're going to war?' Finally his woman spoke, but her voice gave no indication of her emotions. It was as blank and cool as if he'd never caressed her. Never moved his fingers inside her.

That angered him as much as Broderick's interruption. 'If that is what is required to keep this palace, then yes, I will go to war.'

'But... you're injured.'

'Yes.'

'You shouldn't be fighting. You'll make your wounds worse.'

He kept his back to her as he gathered his helmet and shield. The Skull rested inside. 'Do not begin doubting me again, moon. I am well able to protect and defend.'