Forbidden Craving: The Nymph King / The Beautiful Ashes

For a long while, Valerian stood in place, desperate to follow her, willing the door to open.

When his blood cooled, he scrubbed his face with a shaky hand. Having a mate was going to be murder on his body, it seemed, for he foresaw a long, painful night ahead—with no real end in sight.

CHAPTER EIGHT (#udb12d2a9-2539-576b-8fe3-d38b058f3809)

SHAYE’S HEART THUNDERED in her chest, pounding so hard she feared her ribs would crack; her ears rang loudly, and she covered them with her hands to block out the awful sound. She sank onto the edge of a decadent made-for-sex bed with red silk sheets and a velvet comforter.

Not daring to breathe, she stared at the door.

She remained in that exact position for over an hour, anticipatory. Part of her wanted Valerian to storm inside the room to begin seducing her.

Begin. As if he hadn’t already.

Before she’d left him, his gaze had scorched her. If she’d remained with him, that heat would have burned her alive.

A new card idea had taken root. We should probably have sex before we rush into dating.

She gulped. If any man could tempt her...

No! She wouldn’t be a fool for lust or love or whatever the heck he wanted to call...whatever the heck was going on between them, accepting whatever crap he happened to dish.

She rested her head against the bedpost, which was intricately carved with—what else?—naked females.

So far Valerian had proved to be a man of his word—which meant he would remain guard just outside the door all freaking night.

He would always tell her the truth, huh?

“This is your personal love shack, right? And those three women, you bagged and tagged them?” she called.

A pause. She expected the silence to continue.

Then he said, “Yes.”

Well, well. The truth, even when it hurt. A rarity. A trait she admired greatly and had always hoped to find in someone else.

Maybe I should stay with him? Just for a little while.

Okay, wow. Part of her had to be looking for any reason to stay. Which was the very reason she had to escape tonight. No way she should stick around until morning, when he and the other warrior, Joachim, would fight for ownership of her, as if she were property.

“I’m not a trophy,” she muttered. “I’m not a prize for Valerian and his sex squad to battle to the death over.”

“Yes, Moon, you are.”

The huskiness of his voice gave her a jolt of pure pleasure, making her heart skip a beat and heat coast over her skin.

Trembling now, she jumped to her feet and traversed one of the bridges, careful to avoid the pits. She paced. A large, sunken tub had been filled with bubbling water. Or the water never drained. Tendrils of steam curled to the vaulted crystal ceiling, which showcased the now turbulent ocean above. Waves churned and swirled, leaving wisps of foam behind, no horny mermaids in sight.

Maybe...maybe a night with Valerian could go on her bucket list?

What! What are you doing? Stop! Escape!

Right. She traced a fingertip over the vanity. The rings in the wood actually warmed to her touch, a slight vibration rising up her arm.

An eerie voice suddenly whispered through her mind. Love heals; it doesn’t hurt. Love is the answer, not the problem...

With a gasp, she yanked her arm away, severing contact. What. The. Heck?

“You mentioned...lovers.” Valerian spoke up again, his tone dripping with irritation. “Are they the reason you want to return home?”

Ugh. She’d yelled at him for misleading her, but she’d done the same to him. “I have a business. I have dreams.”

“What’s your business?”

Genuine interest? “I sell anti-cards.” Did Atlanteans celebrate holidays?

“Or, more accurately, I sell sarcasm to people who have stopped romanticizing life.”

A pause, as if he needed a moment to store every bit of info about her. “Give me an example of an anti-card.”

She thought for a moment. “Congratulations on your new job. Before you go, would you mind taking the knife out of my back? You’ll probably need it again.”

He chuckled, surprising her, delighting her—arousing her. Which was so freaking frustrating!

“Now tell me about your dreams,” he said.

A safe topic. One she embraced. “Well, while I was busy drowning, I admitted I’d like to write a book.”

A soft growl. “You were never in danger of drowning. And you can write a book here.”

“I have a feeling just do it here will be your answer to everything,” she told him dryly.

“Yes, I’m very wise.”

She had to cut off a laugh.

Twice, she realized. Twice he’d amused her—the moody, broody cold fish—in a way no one else ever had.

“I notice you mention nothing of your family,” he said, his tone now careful. “Not your mother and her new husband. Not your father.”

“We’ve never been close,” she admitted.

Love heals; it doesn’t hurt.

Argh! Those words!

“Their loss,” he said.

Love is the answer, not the problem.