Forbidden Craving: The Nymph King / The Beautiful Ashes

“I’m not your chattel,” Shaye grated. “You disgust me. I hope your testicles have to be surgical removed from you intestines.”

Valerian bit back a grin. His second in command quickly selected the curviest woman in line. The pair rushed from the dining hall without a backward glance.

One down...

“Dorian.” Valerian nodded to the man often referred to as the sexiest male in Atlantis. “You’re next.”

To Shaye—would he ever get enough of her name?—he whispered, “When he approaches you, ignore him. Don’t even look at him.”

“You’re sure?” she whispered back.

Valerian had expected the process of elimination to infuriate him. Instead, he and Shaye were working together, and he loved it.

“I’m sure.”

* * *

SHAYE COULDN’T BELIEVE she stood in a line of singles, being ogled by nymphos while relying on Valerian to ensure her safety. He’d gotten her into this mess in the first place! But she could think of no other alternative. Letting one of these barbarians “claim” her and drag her away to do who knew what to her held zero appeal.

“Won’t ignoring him bring out all his caveman instincts?” she asked softly.

“Anyone else? Yes. Not him.” Valerian sounded amused. “His pride will demand immediate soothing—from someone else.”

Well. Consider him ignored.

The one named Dorian had onyx hair and irises so pure and blue they rivaled the ocean. His mouthwatering beauty was something out of a fairy tale, his features somehow even more perfect than Valerian’s....but he didn’t make her ache.

He didn’t fill her mind with X-rated images of naked, straining bodies.

As Dorian followed Broderick’s example and considered every woman in line, Shaye’s hands curled into fists.

How would these men like it if the tables were turned? If they were the ones being looked over and judged?

Who was she kidding? They would love every second of it.

There had to be a way to override the nympho pheromone and convince these women they did not sexually desire their captors.

When Dorian reached Shaye, he made sure to remain out of striking distance. He studied her, his intense gaze lingering on her every curve.

Just as before, Valerian stiffened.

She peered down at her cuticles as if she hadn’t a care.

“You intrigue me, female,” Dorian told her.

She faked a yawn. His intrigue? Probably nothing more than the pride Valerian had mentioned. Winning the one others had failed to win would come with a side of bragging rights.

“Female?”

Another yawn.

The warrior expelled a frustrated breath.

Maybe she had a cruel streak, because she liked upsetting him.

“Look at me,” Dorian commanded, reminding her of a petulant child.

She brushed an invisible piece of lint from her arm.

He tangled a hand through his hair and eyed his boss. “Valerian. A little help, if you please.”

Valerian lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “I can’t force her eyes on you unless I remove them.”

“But—”

“Is she the one you want or not?” The words lashed from him, abrupt and harsh. Filled with impatience. “Others await their turn.”

A scowl darkened Dorian’s features before he spun from Shaye and stalked to an Asian sweetie with a lily in her hair. “I choose you.”

Lily actually cheered.

“If you guys are going to select women based on their appearance,” Shaye muttered, “you should first make sure you’re Chris or Liam Hemsworth.”

A growl rose from him. “Who are these men to you?”

“Only my lovers.” In her dreams.

Just because a real man had never really tempted her, and just because she’d encased her heart in icy armor, well, that didn’t mean her mind had never fantasized and her body had never ached. She’d ached. Oh, she’d ached.

“No longer,” Valerian grated. “You’re mine.”

A new card took shape. I love watching you sleep...through the crack in your bedroom curtains.

“Are you familiar with the term stalker?” she asked.

“Stalk. Noun. The stem of a herbaceous plant. To stalk. Verb. To pursue or approach stealthily. Therefore stalker must be...one who pursues stealthily.”

Smart man. “One who pursues someone who doesn’t want to be pursued.”

A sharp inhalation. “I’m not stalking you.”

“Whatever you have to tell yourself, buddy.”

The ceremony continued for another half hour. Only one other woman appeared upset by the proceedings—the same one who’d been unwilling to blithely walk into the water.

She was a tiny thing and very pretty, with dark, curly hair, wide, dark eyes and a button nose. Of Spanish heritage, maybe. Despite her innocent, schoolgirl features, she radiated a wild sensuality that had intrigued many of the nymphos. They’d passed her over, however, because she’d trembled with fear rather than eagerness.

But pickings were becoming slim, and a tall warrior with beads in his sandy-colored hair eventually selected her. One of the men still waiting for his turn slammed his fist into the wall, the force of the blow reverberating through the entire room.