Or what about: You’re cheating? Good news! I am, too!
Oookay. Two cheating cards in a matter of seconds. Had to be a record.
Card three, attempt one: Some men aren’t so bad. I guess.
Ugh. What had Valerian done to her?
“I’m so jealous you were chosen by Valerian, king of the beefcakes.” A brunette sat next to her. “Is he as good in bed as he looks?”
Silence descended over the room. Every eye focused on her.
“He even fought over you.” The brunette sighed dreamily. “How romantic is that? Oh! I’m Jaclyn, by the way.”
“I’m Soshanna,” said an elegant black woman. “I’ve decided to keep Aeson. He takes orders very well.”
“I’m Barrie,” said a plain brunette.
“Martina,” said the plump brunette who’d wanted to fight her for standing too close to Broderick. Not to mention the one who’d summoned the guard for attempting to plan an escape. Now she acted as if Shaye were an old friend.
Jaclyn had to be the ringleader, then. Everyone else followed her lead, introducing themselves. Though most of them had been wedding guests and friends of her mother’s—or maybe the new husband’s—and though they’d spent the last week together, everyone had been too blissed-out to think of anything but sex.
Maybe humans could build immunity against the nympho pheromone?
“Aren’t we the luckiest girls in the world?” Jaclyn said.
Several squeals of delighted agreement erupted.
“Well, is Valerian good?” Barrie asked eagerly. “If he walks like a wet dream and talks like a wet dream...”
“I’m sure he is,” Shaye muttered.
A sense of possessiveness rose up inside her, hot and angry; it was a nail-baring, teeth-snarling possessiveness that surprised her with its undeniable force. Other women shouldn’t be wondering about Valerian naked. He’s taken and I will cut you!
Excited twitters rang out.
“You mean you don’t know? You haven’t slept with him?”
“What! You would have had to resist him. How could you resist him?”
“Nymphs need sex. You’re going to kill him. Give him to me!”
Shaye’s nails dug into her knees. She should be happy someone else wanted him. She should play matchmaker.
Valerian, meet the new object of your obsession.
A little voice inside her said, Mine. Only mine.
A sense of greediness held her in a vise-grip.
Barrie and the others soon got tired of awaiting her answer. Actually they forgot about Shaye entirely, planning ways to ensure Valerian “survived.”
Whatever. Shaye stretched her legs and propped her feet on top of a pillow. Frustration—for so many different reasons—ate at her. Sexual frustration? Yes. Confusion? Definitely.
Sighing, she set her new cards aside. Enough business for one day. She would concentrate on having fun—like writing her novel. Yes! Excitement bloomed.
First, she had to decide what kind of book to write. A slice from her own life? My Adventures with The Nymphos. Or maybe a modern woman’s tale about the hazards of dating and love. Of course, there wouldn’t be a happy ending.
Someone had to tell the world the truth.
The heroine could be disgusted by all the lovesick fools around her—while fighting her attraction to the sexiest man on the planet.
If I go that route, I might as well name her Eyahs. Shaye spelled backward. The hero would be Nairelav—Valerian spelled backward—and he would be king of the sohpmyn. Nymphos spelled backward.
Well. Why not? Write what you know.
So, Shaye wrote: Chapter One. Nairelav, king of the sohpmyn, who considered himself the greatest leader of the greatest army and the greatest lover ever to live, untangled his glorious body from the naked, slumbering woman beside him...only to discover his legs were entwined with two other naked, slumbering women. Because he was a manwhore with no self-control. He’d say he needed to be spanked—but he’d like it, so, punishment was a no-go.
Well. Not bad, but it definitely needed tweaking.
As the hours passed, different warriors straggled into the room, collecting their women. They were covered in sweat and sand, even blood. Each time the door opened, she found herself tensing with dread...and anticipation.
Dang it! Where was Valerian?
Soon only Shaye and the girl with curly black hair and sad brown eyes remained. The one who’d ended up with Shivawn.
She sat on the couch, staring at nothing. For the first time, she appeared unafraid.
Shaye gathered her supplies, stood and closed the distance. “Hi. I’m, uh, Shaye.” So awkward. Not waiting for the invite she might not receive, she sat.
Curls flicked her a nervous glance. “Hi. I’m Brenna.” Her voice was deep and extremely rough. Her vocal cords must have been damaged at some point.
“I’ve noticed you’re the only other person who isn’t ecstatic to be here.”
Brenna tapped her temple. “Sane.”
“So how’s life with Shivawn?”
The girl shrugged. “He hasn’t touched me.”
“Good.” Shaye leaned forward and swiped a piece of bread from the snack table. She tore the piece in two and handed one to Brenna. “Are you still in charge of Joachim’s care?”
A hesitant nod.
“How’s he doing?”
A gleam of something...hot and dark entered her brown eyes. Oh, oh, oh. What was this? Did Brenna have a crush on her patient?
“He’s well.”
“You like him?” Shaye asked.
“What? No!” Brenna gave a violent shake of her head. “Scared of him,” she admitted.
Shaye tensed. “Has he hurt you?”
Delicate shoulders drooped, but her lips pressed into a defiant frown. “No.”
So...she wasn’t scared of him physically but...emotionally?
That, Shaye understood. If she desired Valerian so intensely now, what would happen if she actually fell in love with him?
“I wonder why all the women are slaves to the mighty nympho pheromone but we aren’t,” she mused aloud.
“Insane,” Brenna said, tapping her temple, and they both laughed.
The door opened, and Shivawn entered. Disappointment—
No, excitement!
Valerian entered on his heels. He stopped, his gaze finding her. A cut marred his lip, but he was still the most beautiful sight she’d ever beheld. He’d cleaned up, the sand and blood washed away. Once again he wore a shirt—Boo hiss!
He was right. She preferred him bare-chested.
A shiver of awareness swept through her. Grip tightening on the papers, she stood. Brenna stood beside her.
“You’re hurt,” Shaye said. Should she offer to patch him up?
“I couldn’t stop thinking about our kiss,” Valerian said, his tone wry. “My men took advantage of my distraction.”
Guilt flared.
“I missed you,” he added, and a pang lanced through her.
Tell him how much you missed him. He deserved the truth.
The words died in her throat, however. Shouldn’t give him hope. Shouldn’t start a relationship doomed to fail.
Disappointment glowed in his eyes, but he extended his hand. “Come. Let me show you our home.”
* * *
VALERIAN ESCORTED SHAYE to the stables. Overhead, the crystal dome shone brightly and cast the perfect amount of heat. Birds whistled playfully as they flew past.
He motioned to the pink pony of her dreams. “This enchanting beauty is yours.”
She gasped. “She can’t be...she’s... My Little Pony is real!”
“Yes. She’s very real.”
Rich brown eyes peered up at him. “You bought her for me?”
“I spent our money, yes.” He would use the word “our” every chance he got. A reminder they belonged together. Hopefully she would cease her escape attempts.
But then, why would she want to stay? He’d treated her poorly all week, his days spent in battle, his nights plagued by nightmares of losing her.
She trembled as she combed her fingers through the pony’s mane. “You have to stop buying me gifts, Valerian. You have to stop being so...” She grimaced. “Nice.”
“Why?”
“Because...just because!”
Because leaving her new life would be more difficult than she’d expected?
If that were the case, he would buy her all of Atlantis.
“Okay, I have a confession.” She nuzzled the pony’s nose. “I don’t actually know how to ride.”
“I will take great pleasure in teaching you. Another day. Today you’ll ride with me.” Already burning with anticipation, he whistled.
His centaur trotted around the far corner.
“Shaye, this is Henry. Henry, this is Shaye. My mate. We’re going to the Outer City.”
Henry bowed low. He had long hair the same dark shade as his skin, strong features and an even stronger flank. “Of course, sire.”
Shaye stumbled back a step. “Valerian. Your horse is a man.”
“Yes. I know.”
“And you expect me to ride him?”
He fought a grin. “Yes.”
She gulped. Valerian set her atop the centaur and mounted behind her, loving the feel of her against him...loved the way they rubbed together as Henry descended the cliff.
The palace sat at the top, and the town began at the bottom. Took them half an hour to make the journey.
As usual, the moment he was spotted other men hid their females. By the time he and Shaye dismounted, only males—centaurs, Minotaurs and formorions—manned the tables and booths, selling their wares. Everything from food and drink to jewelry and clothing.
“This is amazing,” Shaye said, glowing with awe.
He wanted so badly to kiss her, but now wasn’t the time. He had to remain aware. And he did. He led her down the cobblestone streets and through the crowds, never dropping his guard.
When she expressed a desire for water, he fetched her a drink. When her stomach growled, he purchased delicious meat pies.
The first time, she asked, “Are you going to demand payment for this?”
“Payment?” he’d replied.
“You know, a kiss, since I don’t have Atlantean money.”
“Why would I? I want your kisses offered free of charge.”
She blushed, delighting him.
Two young griffins—lion-eagle hybrids—charged past them, one chasing his tail while the other chased his friend. Shaye snickered at their antics.
Light created a halo around her, and his chest swelled with...an emotion he couldn’t name. One he’d never before experienced.
“Is anyone selling oranges, do you think?” she asked him, her gaze scanning the booths.
“Surely.” But though he searched high and low, he failed to find the fruit. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it. Sure, I’ll have to scratch purveyor of oranges from your résumé, but I’m certain you’ll recover. One day.”
She...teased him? “As far as first dates go, how’d I do?”
“Wait.” She jumped in front of him, stopping him, her eyes wide. “This was a date?”
“Of course.” Something else he’d done this past week—speak with the other human women, asking about their customs.
“The first date. Implying the first of many.”
“Of course,” he repeated.
“Not of course. Not if I don’t know. You didn’t even ask me out. You just said you’d reward me if I behaved. Which still irritates me,” she said, glaring up at him.
“But how was the date?” he insisted.
She buffed her nails on his shirt. “Well, on a scale from one to ten, I’d give it a five. Perfectly mediocre.”
He snorted. Funny girl. She teased him now; he knew it.
He whistled for Henry, who came charging over. He helped Shaye mount and settled behind her. Going up the cliff required an extra half hour. An extra half hour he used to his advantage, holding her close. At the midway point, she stopped trying to maintain distance with him and actually leaned against him.
Progress!
Upon arrival, Shaye accepted his help down—his touch—without hesitation.
More progress!
She spent the next hour playing with her new pet, now named Strawberry Shortcake.
He stepped away to send a few of his men to search the land for oranges.
Finally he and Shaye headed to their room. “I hope you’re still hungry,” he said. “I had a meal prepared for us while we were gone.”
“Did you request coconut-cream pudding?”
“Moon, you moaned with bliss every time you took a bite this morning. So yes. Yes, I requested coconut-cream pudding.”
“Well, you shouldn’t have!” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I told you. You’re being too nice to me, and I don’t need the extra fat grams.”
He kissed her knuckles, stealing a small taste, and said, “Being nice to you gives me pleasure. I never deny myself pleasure. And the more of you there is, the more of you there is to love.”
Inside the room, satin pillows now surrounded the coffee table. The dinner table. They sat across from each other.
As he filled two goblets with wine, he said, “I was going to have former lovers advise you of my wondrous skill in bed, but in the light of day that didn’t seem so wise.”
“Agreed,” she said, nearly choking on her first sip.
“Instead, I’ll tell you something about myself. Then you’ll tell me something about yourself. Do we have a bargain?”
She licked her lips. “We do.”
What bits of his past should he offer her? “I...had a brother,” he said. Yes, as good a place as any to start, and something he rarely spoke of—though never with a woman. Shaye would be the first.
“Had?” she asked softly.
Nodding, he pinched a piece of fish between his fingers and popped it into his mouth. He chewed, swallowed. “He was my twin. He was stolen when we were children.”
Her eyes widened with horror. “Who took him?”
Familiar rage filled him, but he tamped it down. “The Gorgons.”
“The Gor—what?” She crossed her legs, one over the other, and leaned forward, propping her elbows on the table.
He had her full attention, her usual shields down.
“Gorgons are a race of creatures who can turn a man to stone with only a glance. Snakes slither on their heads. They are evil. Pure evil.”
“Ah. Like Medusa.” She motioned for him to continue. “So why did they take him?”
He slid a platter of grapes toward her. “They hoped to trade him for my father’s aid—which he denied. Verryn died that very day.”
“I’m so sorry.”
He nodded. “He and I shared a mind connection, and when it darkened I knew he was gone. I’ve felt his loss every day...until you.” The last emerged as little more than a whisper. “Now it’s your turn. Tell me something about yourself.”
* * *
WHAT SHOULD SHE TELL HIM? Shaye wondered. He’d divulged something personal and painful. She could do no less. Except...the more she shared with him, the closer she would feel to him.
Proceed with caution!
She would tell him something only slightly painful. “Once I had a stepsister who chopped off all my hair. I was sleeping and didn’
t know what she’d done until the next morning.” The “trim” had been punishment for cutting the hair of her stepsister’s favorite doll—a crime Shaye hadn’t committed. That honor had belonged to her stepbrother.
The real pain had come when ten-year-old Shaye had cried to her mother about what had been done. Tamara accused her of butchering her own hair in an attempt to ruin her relationship with the girl’s father.
Valerian’s features darkened. “Seems Atlantis isn’t the only land with demons. Your hair reminds me of moonlight and stars, and anyone who cuts it can only be spawned from evil.”
Gratification filled her—he believed her. She ran her hand through the thick mass. “I...thank you.”
“Living with the little demon must have been difficult.”
“Thankfully, Mom was only married to her father for a year.”
“You mother married your father, then this other man, then another male last week. How many mates has she had?”
“Six.”
He shook his head, as if he couldn’t trust what he’d just heard. “You will not share the same fate. You will have one mate. Only one.” His gaze lingered on her mouth, reducing her to a trembling, aching mess.
“Tell me a happier memory now,” she croaked.
He thought for a moment. “I lost my virginity to my mother’s favorite servant. She carried clean clothing into my room, spotted me in the pool and decided to join me.”
She struggled to catch her breath. Valerian...naked...beads of water trickling down rope after rope of muscle and—
Stop! “I would have guessed you’d lost your virginity in an orgy.”
He smiled. “The orgy happened the next night.”
She nearly choked on her tongue, and he laughed.
“What about you?” he asked. “Tell me about your first time.”
“I, uh...” She stumbled over her words, another blush heating her cheeks. Time to admit the truth, she supposed.
Why?
Excellent question. Because...because she was an adult, and she could do what she wanted. That was why.
“I haven’t had a first time,” she admitted, stacking the grapes in the bowl. “Yet.”
“What!” His mouth fell open. “Surely you jest.”
Forbidden Craving Page 17
