She shook her head, violently this time.
He frowned at her. “Come here.” His husky voice drifted across the small distance, almost as intoxicating and heady as a caress.
In seconds, a sensual fog wove through her mind. Her knees quaked, and another shiver traipsed the length of her spine.
What would happen if he actually touched her?
What would happen if he trailed those luscious pink lips along her every curve and hollow?
Images flashed through her mind. The man’s mouth on her breasts, his fingers slipping deep inside her, her legs parting to give him better access...
He’s seducing me without even trying.
Either that, or she was seducing herself!
“Come here,” he repeated.
“Yes,” Tamara said, already stepping toward him. The dreamy glaze in her eyes had darkened with eagerness. “I need to touch you, or I’ll die. Please let me touch you.”
The part of Shaye that recognized how dangerous these men were also realized there was something wrong with the entire situation—she still couldn’t bring herself to care.
Must fight this!
Scowling, she reached out to latch on to her mom’s arm and jerk Tamara to a halt. “Don’t go near them.”
“Let me go.” She struggled against Shaye’s hold. “I’ve never been so in love. I need to be with my man.”
“We’re going back to the tent.” Dragging her flailing mother behind her, Shaye raced toward the outside reception area, where laughing voices, soft music and unsuspecting guests greeted her.
She dared a glance behind her. The warriors hadn’t slowed or changed direction. They’d followed her, lust in their eyes.
“Help us,” she shouted, flinging sand with every step. She swept the curtain aside and entered the tent. “Someone call 911!”
No one paid her any heed. They were too busy dancing and drinking themselves into oblivion, thanks to the open bar.
“Let me go,” her mom continued to shout. When that failed to gain her release, she sank her teeth into Shaye’s arm.
“Ow!” Not knowing what else to do, Shaye hooked her foot behind her mom’s ankle and pushed, inadvertently sending the bride hurling into the dessert table. Platters of food crashed to the ground.
Several people glanced at Shaye before concentrating on the fallen bride with confusion and horror.
“There are men—” Shaye pointed “—out there. Dangerous men with swords. Does anyone have a gun? Did someone call 911?”
Tamara jolted to her feet, unconcerned by the red-and-white frosting now streaking her ten-thousand-dollar dress. She elbowed her way past the guests. “Where he is? My love! My heart!”
“Tamara?” Conner, her new husband, rushed to his bride to lock her in his arms, his expression both concerned and incredulous as she struggled to break free. “What’s wrong with you, kitten?”
“I need...him.” The last word was uttered on a relieved, happy sigh.
The six sea gods had just stepped into the tent; they consumed every inch of breathable space and blocked the only viable exit.
The music suddenly stopped. The male guests cowered, as if death had just arrived, and the females gasped in bliss, already moving toward the warriors, reaching out, eager to touch the exquisite display of masculinity.
This couldn’t be happening.
The one in the middle scanned the crowd, as if drinking in every detail...but also searching...searching...and finally locking on Shaye. Satisfaction glowed in his eyes.
She trembled as dizzying warmth speared her. More images rushed through her mind. This man naked and sweaty, pressed against her, licking her...
No, no, no. She forced her mind to blank.
Who were these men?
And how did the tall one make her forget who and what she was, and simply enjoy the pleasures she somehow knew he alone could give her?
He alone? What madness!
She grabbed the cake knife from the floor, icing coating her fingers, holding the weapon in front of her. Her heart thumped erratically in her chest.
After multiple physical altercations with different stepsiblings—and sometimes having to fend off a new stepfather—Shaye had considered self-defense classes prudent. The problem? She’d never had to put the lessons into action.
Wait. There was an even bigger problem. None of her instructors had ever prepared her for a sword-wielding giant.
The warrior in the middle—what was his name?—narrowed his eyes and motioned her over. His kissable, lickable lips lifted in a slow, wicked smile. In the candlelight, he exuded a far more potent sensuality...
A silver hoop winked at his nipple.
Her mouth watered all over again.
“Come,” he said, the single word weighted, as if it had more than one meaning.
She shivered, everything inside her screaming to obey him, to come...to suck that hoop into her mouth while she ground herself against his erection—
Crap! She hadn’t meant to look between his legs, but now she couldn’t pull her gaze away.
Black leather pants molded to his thighs, displaying every muscle...every inch of hardness...every bit of perfection.
Talk about instant inspiration! A new card took shape—a ridiculous card.
A good wine will make you feel sexy, brave and ready for anything. Oh, wait. I meant a sea god.
He took a step toward her. She took a step back, even though she wanted to rush forward.
A laugh burst from her, zero humor, all hysteria. I’m seriously screwed, aren’t I?
CHAPTER THREE
MY MATE, VALERIAN THOUGHT, filled with joy, pride and even anger. After centuries of searching, he’d finally found his mate.
The moment he’d spotted her, the world around him had faded, ceasing to exist. Then he’d caught scent of her. Ice and wildflowers.
As legend claimed, he’d known who she was to him in an instant. Known beyond any doubt. His every cell had awakened for her.
I am hers, and she is mine.
There was no woman more beautiful, in this human world or in Atlantis. Her face...utterly angelic, with a luscious little chin, radiant cheeks and a daintily sloped nose. Her eyes were big and brown, a rich brown, almost gold, filled with dark secrets and undeniable determination, offset stunningly by pale, gloriously long lashes.
He’d never seen skin more fair or luminous. Not even on a vampire. Like the very moon he’d spied shining in the heavens, she was soft, dazzling and ethereal.
Moon. Yes. That’s what she was.
His hands itched to reach out, to caress her, to linger and savor, to learn her, to anchor her against him, ensuring she wouldn’t disappear when the sun rose, as unattainable as a dream.
His moonbeam was his wildest dream made flesh.
She was tall, her slenderness making her appear almost fragile. Definitely vulnerable. And yet, she also had delicious curves. Her breasts were more than a handful, and her hips flared. Her legs...oh, those legs. Deliciously lithe, leading straight to the new center of his world.
Possessive hunger consumed him. Already his blood boiled with a seemingly unquenchable fire, his skin tightening over muscle and bone.
Never again would he be able to enjoy another woman.
Enjoy? he thought and nearly laughed. Had he ever truly enjoyed a woman until now?
In seconds, the little moonbeam had become essential to his well-being. But for the first time in his existence—and that’s what he’d been doing until just this moment, existing without really living—he suspected a woman would reject him.
This one had disobeyed him, run from him and now pointed a weapon in his direction. She radiated an icy veneer his warrior instincts longed to melt.
> A moan of pleasure sounded a few feet away. He didn’t have to look to know a female had just offered herself to a warrior, and that warrior had eagerly accepted.
“Sheathe the beast.” There were too many unknowns around them. Dropping their guard—or their pants—would be foolish. “Gather the unmated females.” He spoke in his native tongue, never taking his gaze from the object of his fascination. “Only those who wish to accompany us.”
His moonbeam would have to be convinced.
She retreated a step. When she realized what she’d done, she stilled. She straightened her shoulders and raised the blade higher.
My woman has courage. I couldn’t be more proud of her.
His shoulders straightened.
“Why are you here?” she demanded. “What do you want with us?”
Her pink-as-roses lips moved sensuously, entrancing him.
Going to taste those lips every day for the rest of my life...
“Hello, handsome.” An unfamiliar female voice sounded beside him.
He tore his gaze from the moonbeam at last—surely one of the most difficult things he’d ever done—and glanced down. Three females now surrounded him, purring as they caressed him and rubbed against him.
“Only the unmated ones?” Broderick asked, his eyes closing in surrender as a pretty brunette licked his collarbone. “You’re sure? This one really wants to come with us.”
“Only the unmated ones,” he confirmed. He’d never—wittingly—taken a married woman from another man, and he wouldn’t start now.
If the little moonbeam is mated?
He stiffened. She’s mine! Only mine!
Needing no other encouragement, his men leaped into action, beckoning unmated females to wait outside the tent. Broderick had to pull the trio off Valerian. They protested, only to glom on to the other warrior.
Smiles abounded from his army and the chosen alike.
Mated females cried in distress before attempting to shove their way out of the tent.
One of the human males decided to object. He pointed a small, black handheld device in Valerian’s direction. A gun, he thought the weapon was called.
Before a shot could be fired, Dorian sneaked up behind him. A sword hilt slammed into his temple, and he collapsed.
Excellent. Valerian returned his attention to the moonbeam. She remained in place. Slowly he approached her, her dark eyes widening.
The closer he got, the more her delectable fragrance drew him like an invisible chain. Except...
One of his warriors reached her first, his strong arms wrapping around her from behind. Shivawn disarmed her and swooped her up into his embrace. She screamed and kicked, fighting like an enraged vampire out for blood.
A feral growl rose in Valerian’s throat, and he bit back a wave of fury. Fury over his woman’s torment; fury over his intense surge of possessiveness. Mine! She belongs to me! He’d never experienced a moment’s jealousy in his life, and yet the sight of another man holding his little moonbeam pushed him into madness.
“Mine,” he barked. Even though he wanted to rip the warrior’s arms away from her, he remained still. “She’s mine.”
Shivawn paused, the beads in his hair clanging together. The moonbeam continued to fight, pounding her fists into his face, making him grimace and bleed.
“She isn’t willing to go with you,” Valerian said, doing his best to remain calm. She only wants my touch.
Frowning, Shivawn released her to clasp another woman against him. A dark-haired beauty who also looked less than pleased by the happenings around her.
Hmm. Very odd. Another unhappy one. What was wrong with these surface females?
His moonbeam quieted and stilled at last.
“Do you know who I am?” Valerian asked, using her language, his tone gentle. Recognize me. He sheathed his sword.
“What do you want with us?” she demanded a second time, ignoring his question.
“I want nothing to do with the others,” he replied honestly. “My soldiers have issued invitations to the single females to come and live with us. Invitations that are being accepted, as you can see.”
She gaped at him. “Only because you’ve somehow drugged them.”
“The only thing we’ve done...is breathe.”
“And what do you mean, live with you?” she continued. “Live with you where?”
“Under the sea.”
“The sea,” she echoed. She licked her bottom lip, the sight of her tongue nearly unmanning him. “You’re lying.”
“I will never lie to you.”
Now confusion knitted her brows. “You sound so sure, so determined.”
“I am.”
“You don’t even know me, and I certainly don’t want to know you. After I pick you out of a police lineup, I hope to never see you again.”
She had no desire to accompany him. The realization dumbfounded him.
My mate would rather live her life without me.
No. No! His sudden appearance had shocked her. She just needed time. With him. With his pheromone.
Time she would one day thank him for giving her.
“You’re not going to like what happens next,” Valerian told her. “I apologize for that.” He gently lifted her in his arms. The side of her body pressed against his chest, and everywhere their skin touched, he burned.
Unable to resist, he burrowed his nose in the hollow of her neck, breathing in her delectable fragrance while relishing the softness of her pale skin.
“Are you sniffing me?” she demanded.
“Yes. Would you like to sniff me in turn?”
“No!”
His shoulders slumped with disappointment.
“If you don’t put me down,” she said, each word sounding as if it were being forced from her throat, “I’m going to claw out your eyes and eat them in front of you.”
He chuckled, his disappointment forgotten. She had a sweet face and a bloodthirsty disposition. What a delicious contradiction.
“Why are you laughing? I’m not teasing, and I’m most certainly not accepting your invitation and going with you.”
He did stop laughing. “You alone have no choice. You are coming with me no matter what.”
A muscle ticked in her jaw.
When their gazes met, blue against golden brown, he inhaled sharply. Awareness sizzled inside him, stronger than before. Such beauty. His nostrils flared, and he knew his pupils dilated. His body hardened painfully.
She gulped, her already pale skin becoming pallid.
“You’re going to kidnap me?”
“Have you changed your mind about coming with me?”
“No!”
“Then yes. Yes, I am going to kidnap you.”
CHAPTER FOUR
“YES, I AM going to kidnap you.”
To Shaye, the quiet determination in the warrior’s voice proved more frightening than a bellow because he wasn’t overcome by emotion, and he knew his mind wouldn’t be swayed.
She should be screaming for help. Instead, she only wanted to snuggle against her captor. Her freaking captor!
A delicious heat had woven through her blood. A heat that begged her to stop resisting and enjoy every stolen touch, every caress of the man’s warm, clean breath on her skin.
“This is wrong,” she grated. “This is not okay. This mantitlement will not stand!”
“Mantitlement?” He chuckled. “I vow to you here and now, I’ll never harm you. I will protect you with my life. I will cherish and pamper you. You’ll see.”
“Said every captor to every victim.” Her stomach roiled. “Why do you want us to live with you?” Maid service? Sex slaves?
Her stomach roiled harder.
Never mind that other women were petting the warriors as if they were innocent house cats.
He ignored Shaye’s question...kind of. “My name is Valerian, and I’m king of the nymphs. I intend to make you my queen.”
Wait, wait, wait. His queen? Was he talking marriage? After a two second introduction?
Can’t process...
In an effort to remain calm, she concentrated on the more trivial details. “Valerian, like the flower? And do you mean you’re king of the nymphos?”
The women were definitely meant to be sex slaves.
“No. We’re nymphs. The word rhymes with lymph.” A pause. “You humans have a flower named Valerian?”
Humans? “Yes, we humans do, and its root is lauded for helping people fall sleep.”
He laughed. “So this strong, mighty root gets women into bed? How appropriate. Your flower must have been named after me.”
Part of her wanted to laugh with him. The other part just wanted to whimper. Had there ever been a more sexual sound?
Her ovaries might have just exploded.
Give in to his desires. They match your own...
What? No! Panicked by her weakening will, Shaye launched into action, slamming her palm into Valerian’s nose.
His head whipped backward, and blood trickled onto his lip.
A shocked pause ensued.
Then, “Why did you do that?” he demanded.
“You’re as dumb as a box of rocks if you can’t figure out the answer on your own.” As she spoke, she bowed her back and kicked her legs. “Let me go!”
His grip on her loosened...as if he feared hurting her? She managed to squirm free and—
Thud. She crash-landed, only to jump to her feet and race away. Go! Go!
No, not without her mom. She switched direction, dragging her gaze over the masses. Her breath emerged in shallow, ragged pants.
Preston lay unconscious on the floor. When he’d aimed a gun at Valerian, another warrior had knocked him out. There was Conner, her new stepdad, frantically crawling away from a redheaded warrior. But there was no sign of Tamara.
Where was she? They might have a rocky relationship, but Shaye couldn’t—wouldn’t—abandon her to...this.
Forbidden Craving Page 3
