Forbidden Craving: The Nymph King / The Beautiful Ashes

Cruel to be kind...to myself.

She lifted her chin. “What happens if I want to hook up with one of your men?”

His brow furrowed. “Hook up?”

“You know, get my groove on. Offer myself up on a silver platter. Do the dirty bump and grind.”

Rage exploded inside his eyes. “You will not hook up with one of my men. Ever.”

“Wrong! My body. My choice.”

His nostrils flared as he fought for control and oh, wow, the sight actually...turned her on. He wanted to keep her all to himself.

“You’re mine,” he grated.

“Actually, I’m mine.”

“Fine. I’m willing to share you with you and only you.”

She almost—almost—laughed. “How kind of you,” she muttered.

“Yes. I’m very kind.” He stepped back and offered his hand. “Shall we?”

The distance...displeased her, the most feminine parts of her body actually pouting.

She peered at his blunt-tipped fingers...at the calluses and scars slashed across his palm, a contrast to his otherwise flawless beauty. As strong as he was, he could have killed her at any moment. He could have crushed her and yet he’d been nothing but gentle with her.

Oh, yes. I’m a fool.

She willingly twined her fingers with his—and gasped. A blast of heat slammed into her. Tingles raced over her.

She tried to tug away from him, to sever the connection, but he held tight. He even lifted her knuckles to his lips and kissed.

The heat—a thousand degrees worse.

The tingles—a thousand times stronger.

“You are precious to me,” he said. “The one I’ve been searching for all the days of my life.”

She bit the inside of her cheek, battling the pleasure his declaration had wrought. “Are you saying you...love me?”

“No. Not yet. But I have no doubt love for you will come.”

“How?” No one had ever loved her. “How can you believe that?”

“Every nymph has a fated mate, and you are mine.”

“I don’t understand,” she rasped. “I don’t understand at all.”

“You will. In time.”

The words—a warning? a promise?—rang in her head as he led her up the rest of the stairs. At the top, two gleaming crystal doors slid open.

They traveled down a series of long, winding hallways. Luxurious hallways. Gold brick walls had been draped with strands of emeralds that wound this way and that to resemble ivy. Alabaster columns were decorated with fist-size diamonds that had been carved to look like roses in full bloom. From the ceiling hung multiple chandeliers, each in the shape of a dragon’s head, crimson-colored crystals dripping from fangs that might have been fashioned from pearls.

The magnificence overwhelmed her.

“Do you like your...the palace?” he asked. “We’ll be replacing the chandeliers with a less hideous design.”

“It’s beautiful. It’s all beautiful.”

They turned a corner, vivid wall murals coming into view. Each scene showcased a man, doing something kind for a woman. Feeding her grapes. Undressing her. Bathing her.

“I had to paint over dragon portraits,” he said, noticing where her attention was fixed.

“You painted these?”

“Yes.”

“Your talent is...” Compliment her captor? No! “Decent.”

He squeezed her hand. “Perhaps you’ll pose for me one day.”

Her heart rate increased. Had nothing to do with Valerian, of course. She’d obviously developed an early-onset heart arrhythmia.

“Why did you take the palace from the dragons?” she asked, desperately returning to the previous topic of conversation. The safer topic.

“Nymphs have always been natural wanderers. For centuries, we flittered from one location to the other in search of our next sexual conquest, but I grew weary of such an existence. I wanted more for myself and more for my people.”

“Why? What changed?” According to her therapist, transformation required a catalyst.

“A sense of restlessness plagued me for months. I knew if I wanted a better life, I had to do something different. This is my different.”

Basically, he’d changed his mind. Just as he would change his mind about Shaye.

“Usually nymphs attack only when provoked,” he added, “keeping our bestial natures under strict control, but dragons are an enemy to the vampires, our only ally.”

“Do the other races not like the nymphos?” Bet I can guess all the reasons why.

“They don’t like our power over women. Layel, the vampire king, finds it amusing.”

She shuddered, praying she never came face-to-face with a blood drinker. “Do you regret the decision to steal?”

“Not in the slightest,” Valerian replied easily. “Once I entered the palace, my restlessness was replaced by rightness. Now, having met you, I understand why.”

She scowled at him. “Stop saying things like that.”

“Why?”