Forbidden Craving: The Nymph King / The Beautiful Ashes

Another bellow. “Stop acting as if you adore me,” she grated. “It’s creepy.”

“But I do adore you.”

“You can’t! How many times do I have to tell you? You. Don’t. Know. Me.”

“I know you have a temper.”

“And so do millions of other people.”

“I know you like to be touched, whether you admit it or not.” Many times she’d leaned into him before coming to her senses and stiffening. “I know you like when I compliment you.” Her gaze always softened.

She huffed and puffed. “You’re wrong.”

“Would you rather I say mean things to you?”

“Yes!”

He also knew she meant that and blinked with confusion. “Why?”

“Why don’t you tell me?” she challenged.

Only one reason made any sense, and he thrilled. “When I’m kind, your defenses threaten to crumble.”

She gave an adamant shake of her head.

He only thrilled harder!

“My king,” Broderick prompted. “We’re ready. We have instructed the women to remain in place until they’ve been chosen.”

Valerian blanked his expression. He picked up his woman and carried her to the end of the line. A quick count revealed more men than women.

Many warriors would be going to bed alone tonight. What if someone decided having a chance to woo Moon would be better than having no chance at all?

“Stay quiet,” he told her, suspecting she would do the opposite. “Everyone will want a good look at you without any distractions.”

She lifted her chin. “This T and A pageant sucks balls. I won’t passively stand here—and neither should you,” she shouted at the other women. “We are human beings, and we have rights. Men do not choose us, we choose our men. We say no to these nymphos and their demeaning ceremony. We demand to be returned home. Who’s with me?”

Silence.

“Who’s with me?” Broderick asked.

One female jumped up, her arm extended in the air. “Pick me! Pick me!”

“No. Me!”

Shaye’s shoulders brushed his chest as they rolled in, and several strands of silken hair snagged in his nipple ring.

“If I help you remain unchosen,” he whispered, “will you tell me your name?”

“I—maybe.” Her eyelids slitted, the length of her lashes casting spiky shadows over her cheeks. “Why would you help me?”

Why indeed. The answer should have been obvious to her. “I intend to keep you for myself.” He stated the words as baldly as possible. He needed an extreme reaction from her—something to appall his men further.

“I’m not a piece of meat, and this isn’t a buffet. You should be ashamed of yourself.” Her gaze blazed over his men. “All of you should be ashamed.”

Valerian heaved a mighty sigh. “If you won’t remain in line,” he called loudly, “I’ll be obligated to hold you in place.”

“Keep your hands to yourself! I don’t want to be touched. I’ll never want to be touched.”

Nymphs recoiled in horror.

A wave of triumph swept through him. “Broderick,” he called.

“Yes, my king.” The warrior stepped forward, excitement radiating from him.

“As second in command and leader of the elite, you are granted first choice.” Valerian loosened his hold on his captive so that her movements were more obvious.

She squirmed, her murmured curses and grunts filling the air.

Broderick grinned and approached the females, starting at the far end. Feminine twitters and purrs echoed throughout the spacious enclosure.

A new chorus erupted. “Pick me, pick me!”

“What have you done to them?” Shaye demanded.

Full disclosure. “We produce a potent pheromone all...well, most women find pleasing.”

She stiffened. “By pheromone, do you mean drug?”

“The word drug implies wrongdoing on our part. Just as humans have no control over the way they perspire, we have no control over the way we pheromone. And it doesn’t drug. It frees hidden desires.”

Broderick slowly edged his way down the line, stopping here and there to study a woman more closely—even to touch. But he didn’t ask questions, getting to know the women better, and it clearly irritated Shaye, who mumbled under her breath.

By the time he reached her, the warrior had yet to make his selection.

He reached out to touch her.

Valerian had to swallow a harsh rebuke.

She reared back, calling, “Shaye Octavia Holling. That’s my name.”

Shaye. Valerian rolled the name over his tongue, savoring its delicacy. “I like your name.”

“Thank you,” she snapped. “I got it for my birthday.”

Funny girl. “Kick him.” He breathed the command straight into her ear. “As hard as you can.”

Without hesitation, she slammed her knee between Broderick’s legs. The stunned warrior hunched over, gasping for breath; the rest of the army burst into gales of laughter.