Forbidden Craving

by Gena Showalter

  “By doing Poseidon’s will in this, we give him complete control of our lives,” Darius said. “What if, tomorrow, he wishes us to kill our own women?”

  “If we disobey him, we may not live long enough to find out.”

  “There’s a reason the Greeks have never slain us, a reason why they sent us back into this palace instead of destroying the nymphs themselves.” Darius again.

  “What reason?”

  “I don’t know, yet knowing there is a reason gives us leverage. All I am saying is that we can’t become Poseidon’s servants.”

  “Agreed,” Valerian answered. His signal.

  Weaponless, the nymphs swarmed forward. Valerian wished he held the Skull, but he couldn’t postpone this fight to retrieve it.

  Streams of fire suddenly spewed from the dragons. Valerian shoved Shaye behind a small side table and leaped forward. He and Darius met midair. That the dragon king had retained his human form meant he wasn’t enraged. Yet.

  They grappled to the ground. Valerian landed a hard punch into his opponent’s face. Blood trickled from Darius’s mouth, yet the cut healed quickly. He gave another punch and rolled, then kicked out his leg, hitting Darius’s stomach.

  The dragon king flew backward, but immediately righted himself and spun. His tail had sprouted, and it slashed at Valerian’s face, cutting deep. He felt the sting of it but didn’t let the pain affect him.

  All around him nymphs and dragons warred. Their grunts permeated the air.

  “I agree with what you said about Poseidon.” Valerian lunged, punched. Contact. “Must we be enemies?”

  “Yes!” Darius kicked again, and his foot slammed into Valerian’s side. “You allowed the Jewel of Dunamis to escape to the mortal world.”

  Spinning continuously, he lashed out at Darius again and again, landing four successive blows. “I won’t give up this palace. It belongs to us. You already have a home.”

  “For the safety of Atlantis, the portal must be guarded. How can I trust you to do this? To not use it for your own gain?”

  Valerian paused.

  Darius did the same.

  They stared each other down, both panting.

  “When we win the nymph females back from you,” Valerian said, “we will have no more need of the surface world.”

  Around them, the battle still raged. Valerian ducked as a stream of fire was launched his way. The heat singed him, even though the flames never touched him.

  Darius said, “The law claims only guardians are to use the portals to travel to the surface, that any one else deserves punishment. If you were a guardian...”

  “I would do my duty.” Valerian studied Darius’s face. That scar slashed from eyebrow to chin. His eyes were swirling blue, determined to kill if he must, but hoping to find another way.

  “The portal I guard leads to a jungle on the surface. The portal here leads to an ocean on the surface, as I’m sure you know. If you stay here,” Darius said, “human travelers will come through. Most often they swim too deeply, are innocent, but they will be yours to either memory wipe and return or destroy. The Outer City will be yours to guard, as well. I’m ready to relinquish this duty as it was never meant to be mine. I’ve enough to do handling the Inner City.”

  “I will protect it with my life,” Valerian vowed. “This is the only home we have ever known.”

  “Then kneel.”

  Valerian knelt without hesitation. Even though the dragon could betray him. For a chance at this alliance...

  He stared up at Darius, who sliced a thin cut down the center of his chest, and offered a blood oath to always guard the portal, to keep the city safe.

  Around them, the fighting ceased at last. The men stopped to listen and watch. Shaye approached Valerian’s side, and he stood. He linked their fingers. He should have scolded her for leaving the safety of the table, but too much did he like her where she was.

  Darius’s gaze flicked to her and widened with surprise.

  “I told you I wouldn’t leave him,” she said with a proud tilt of her chin. “I found a way to return.”

  His lips twitched. “My Grace would have done the same.”

  “Shall we trust each other, dragon?” Valerian waited impatiently for the answer. Everything he’d ever wanted hovered just beyond his grasp.

  Darius’s gaze became piercing. “Yes,” he finally said. “We shall trust each other. And battle Poseidon together if necessary.”

  Valerian held out his hand. Darius eyed it for several seconds before clasping it with his own. The truce was sealed, and Valerian had no idea how he would explain it to Layel.

  “Let us hope we live long enough to regret this.” He turned to Shaye and gathered her in his arms, where she belonged—where he planned to keep her for all of eternity.

  “This is the most unhappy I’ve ever been,” she said, grinning at him. “I’ve never hated you so much.”

  Softly he kissed her sweet, sweet lips. “You don’t hate me as much as I hate you.”

  “You hate each other?” Darius asked. “I’m confused.”

  Valerian ignored him. “Oh, Moon, we are going to have a long, happy life together. I know it.”

  EPILOGUE

  “HOW MUCH IS THIS ONE?”

  “That one will cost you a kiss. A big wet one. Probably a ten-second Frencher.”

  Valerian pushed away the basket of oranges he always kept in his room and studied the card Shaye had made for him.

  It read: Without you, I’m nothing.

  With each day that had passed, her cards had become more and more poetic. Which was a good thing, since his men were going to need those cards to lure the female nymphs from their pique. Seemed they weren’t too happy about being left with the dragons for so long.

  But the sweet cards also meant that Shaye’s past hurts were being soothed. She’d even written her romance novel. An erotic tale about two women who fell deeply in love with nymph warriors.

  She was adapting to life in Atlantis admirably, amusing herself by selling cards to the residents of the Outer City, where she’d set up shop. Valerian ensured she was always guarded from demons and other forces, of course.

  Even the dragons bought a card or twenty when they came to visit—Darius had needed one for his pregnant wife. The vampires, too, bought them, though they didn’t visit often. Layel was upset by the alliance between nymphs and dragons.

  Valerian was now determined to unite the two races.

  So far Poseidon hadn’t returned. Or rather, he hadn’t made himself known.

  Maybe he would, maybe he wouldn’t. No reason to waste energy worrying. Whatever happened, happened.

  Valerian had Shaye, and that was all that mattered. He could handle anything else. He’d even promised Shaye he would find a way to take her to see her mother. And he would. What Shaye wanted, Shaye received.

  Life, at the moment, was all that he’d ever dreamed.

  Joachim was mated to Brenna, and the little woman had become their healer—for children and the nymphs who were single. She patched those in need with a smile, followed by a lecture about “acting like babies” when the fearless warriors whimpered at the sight of her needles.

  Shivawn was his only reason for upset. The man’s mood grew blacker and blacker every day. He’d been spending more and more time in the vampire camp, most likely stalking Alyssa.

  They’d slept together once—or so Valerian suspected—and afterward the girl had then rejected him. Her reasons remained a mystery.

  But the two would find their way. Of that Valerian was sure. If he had to lock them in a room together until they worked out their differences, he would.

  He would consider it inspiration for Shaye’s cards and stories.

  “Well, do you like it?” she
asked, pointing to the card in his hand.

  “I love it. But a kiss is too low a price, Moon.” She sat behind a table and he leaned over it, placing them nose to nose. “You should demand sex and nothing less.”

  She chuckled. “Your men would buy more if I did.”

  He growled with mock ferocity. “I will pay my men’s debts. In fact, I owe you for several Joachim purchased, and it’s time I paid up.”

  “Then close the shop.” Her arms wound around his neck. “Take me to bed, Valerian.”

  “That will be my pleasure.”

  “And mine, love. And mine.”

  * * * * *

  If you enjoyed THE NYMPH KING, you will love Gena Showalter’s LORDS OF THE UNDERWORLD series, featuring immortal warriors possessed by demons and the women who bring them to their knees.

  Look for the newest Lords book, THE DARKEST PROMISE, coming soon from HQN Books!

  THE BEAUTIFUL ASHES

  Jeaniene Frost

  To JBA, now more than ever.

  Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  EPILOGUE

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  EXCERPT FROM THE SWEETEST BURN BY JEANIENE FROST

  CHAPTER ONE

  I’M TWENTY, AND ALREADY, I’ve got nothing left to lose. That’s why I didn’t care that Bennington, Vermont, looked like a postcard for autumn in the country. The two-story bed-and-breakfast I pulled up to was no different. It even had a white picket fence and a steady swirl of sunset-colored leaves drifting down from the many trees in the yard.

  My picturesque surroundings were in stark contrast to how I looked. If I hadn’t been exhausted from grief and stress, I might’ve cared that my brown hair now resembled greasy mud. Or that my breath was in desperate need of a Mentos, and don’t get me started on the coffee stains decorating my WMU shirt. Since I had more important things to worry about, I didn’t even bother to cover my head against the downpour as I left my car and ran into the bed-and-breakfast.

  “One moment!” a cheery voice called out from farther inside. Then a heavyset older woman with graying red hair came down the hallway.

  “Hello, dear. I’m Mrs. Paulson. Are you—oh, my, you’re soaked!”

  “It’s nothing,” I said, but she bustled out of sight, returning moments later with a towel.

  “You sit down and dry yourself off,” she ordered in the same tsking tone my mother had used a million times before. A surge of grief had me dropping into the chair she waved at. The things you didn’t realize you’d miss until they were gone...

  “Thanks,” I said, determined not to cry in front of a total stranger. Then I pulled out the Ziploc bag I’d carried around most of the day. “I’m looking for two people who might’ve stayed here the weekend before last.”

  As I spoke, I pulled out a picture of my sister, Jasmine, and her boyfriend, Tommy.

  Mrs. Paulson got a pair of glasses from her apron pocket. Then she sat behind a large antique desk and accepted the picture.

  “Oh, what a pretty girl,” she said, adding kindly, “just like you. But I’ve never seen either of them before, sorry.”

  “Thanks,” I said, although I wanted to scream.

  I’d spent the day showing Jasmine’s picture to every hotel, motel and inn in Bennington, yet no one had recognized my sister. She’d been here, though. The last texts she’d sent came from Bennington, but the police already hinted that they thought she’d sent them while driving through. To them, Jasmine was an impulsive eighteen-year-old who’d gone on a road trip with her boyfriend. My sister might be impulsive, but she wouldn’t have disappeared for over a week unless she was in real trouble.

  I stuffed her picture back into the plastic bag and rose, so upset that I barely registered what Mrs. Paulson was saying.

  “...can’t let you go back out in that, dear. Wait here until the rain stops.”

  I blinked in surprise at her unexpected kindness. Every other proprietor had been anxious for me to leave once they knew why I was there, as if losing a family member could somehow be contagious. My eyes stung with a sudden rush of tears. Maybe it was. My parents’ funeral was the day after tomorrow.

  “Thank you, but I can’t,” I said, voice husky from emotions I couldn’t let myself feel yet. The shock helped with that. Ten days ago, my biggest concern had been making a bad impression on my Comparative Revolutions professor after my text message alerts kept going off in his class. Then I read Jasmine’s texts, and everything had changed.

  Mrs. Paulson gave me another sympathetic smile. “At least let me make you a hot cup of tea—”

  A dark, hazy double image suddenly appeared over the reception lounge, making it look as though it had aged over a hundred years in an instant. I stifled a groan. Not this again.

  The pricey antiques vanished, replaced by broken-down furniture or nothing at all. The temperature also plummeted, making me shiver before movement in the hallway caught my eye.

  A blonde girl walked past the decrepit-looking reception lounge. Her face was smudged with dirt and she was bundled up in a tattered blanket, but I didn’t need a second glance to recognize her.

  “Jasmine,” I whispered.

  Mrs. Paulson came around the desk and grabbed me, coiling shadows suddenly darting across her face as if she had snakes trapped beneath her flesh. Jasmine continued to walk by as if she wasn’t aware that we were there. If not for the innkeeper’s surprisingly strong grip, I could have reached out and touched my sister.

  “Wait!” I cried out.

  The house blinked back into elegant furnishings and warm, cozy temperatures. Just as quickly, Jasmine disappeared. Mrs. Paulson still held me in a tight grip, although the shadows on her face had vanished. I finally managed to shove her away, heading down the hallway where I’d glimpsed my sister.

  Before I made it three steps, pain exploded in the back of my head. It must’ve briefly knocked me out, because the next thing I knew, I was on my knees and Mrs. Paulson was about to hit me with a heavy picture frame again.

  Get out! The single, emphatic thought was all my mind was capable of producing. My body must’ve agreed. I don’t know how, but I was suddenly outside and slamming the door shut on my Cherokee. Then I sped away, wondering what had made Mrs. Paulson turn from a kindly old lady into a skull-smashing maniac.

  I drove back to my hotel as though on autopilot. After I parked, I sat in the car with the engine off, trying to fight back nausea while I figured out
my next move. I could call 911, but I didn’t want to admit that I’d had another weird hallucination right before Mrs. Paulson attacked me. If I told anyone that, I’d be signing up for a stay in a padded room. Again. Second, the cops in Bennington already didn’t like me. As soon as I’d arrived this morning, I’d bitched them out for not doing enough to find Jasmine. They’d probably take Mrs. Paulson’s side and assume I’d done something to provoke her.

  I paused. Had I? I didn’t remember getting away from Mrs. Paulson. What if I’d done something else I didn’t remember? Maybe something that had scared her so much, she’d hit me in self-defense? The idea that I might be having blackouts in addition to hallucinations soured my already bleak mood. I got out of the car and went to my hotel room. Once inside, I dropped my purse as though it were a fifty-pound anchor, then flicked on the light.

  Everything in me stiffened. The couch should’ve been empty, but a guy with hair the color of dark honey sat there, his large frame taking up most of the space. Strong brows, a straight nose, high cheekbones and a sensual mouth made up a face that was striking enough to adorn billboards. He didn’t look startled by my appearance, either. In fact, if I didn’t know better, I’d swear he’d been expecting me.

  Gorgeous guys do not spend their evenings waiting around for me. That’s why I thought he was another hallucination until he spoke. My hallucinations had never spoken to me before.

  “Hi,” the stranger said, his deep voice tinged with an accent I couldn’t place. “Sorry to tell you, but you’re about to have a really bad night.”

  I knew I should turn around, open the door and run, preferably while screaming. That was the only logical response, but I stood there, somehow unafraid of my intruder. Great. My survival instincts must’ve secretly made a suicide pact.

  “If you knew the week I’d had, you’d realize that whatever you had planned could only make it better,” I heard myself reply, proving my vocal cords were in on the death wish.

  Then again, I wasn’t wrong. My sister? Missing without a trace after texting me help and trapped! last Monday. Parents? Died in a car accident two days after they arrived in Bennington trying to retrace Jasmine’s steps. Me? In addition to losing my whole family, I’d nearly gotten my head bashed in. By comparison, being robbed sounded like a vacation.