Forbidden Craving: The Nymph King / The Beautiful Ashes

“Women love me,” the warrior grated.

“Wrong. They love your pheromone.” Her gaze slid to the others. “There’s a big difference, guys. Huge. Without that magic drug—and it’s a drug, I don’t care what your king says—I wonder if anyone would ever want any of you. You’ve got A-plus looks, sure, but after last night’s ceremony? You’ve got solid F-minus personalities.”

Having been on the receiving end of her sharp tongue more than once, Valerian sat back and enjoyed the show—enjoyed her.

She was born to be a queen.

And really, her words made him think. He’d never before taken the time to discuss his life—past, present or future—with any of his bedmates. He hadn’t cared to discuss his secrets, and they hadn’t cared to ask.

He wanted Shaye to know him. All of him. The good, the bad and the ugly. He wanted to tell her about himself and gauge her reaction, hear her thoughts.

He wanted to know her. All of her. No detail was too small. He wanted to know what had given her joy, what had pained her. He wanted to know about the men she’d dated.

Had she favored scholars? Warriors? How had the men treated her?

Had she ever been in love?

Valerian’s hands clenched on the arms of the chair, nearly snapping the wood. A need to maim, destroy and kill any man who’d once held this woman’s affections consumed him, hotter than a dragon’s fire. Her passion—his. Her affections—his.

Her heart—his!

He yearned to brand his very essence into her. She would know no scent but his. Would feel no touch but his. Would crave him, only him, as he craved her, only her.

He wanted her to feel the same way about any woman who’d come before her. He wanted her to brand him.

“My personality is as delightful as the rest of me,” Dorian said, cutting into his thoughts.

Broderick nodded. “As is mine. I’ve never gotten a single complaint.”

“What do you think I’ve been doing?” she asked. “Complaining.”

Both males looked to Valerian. He hiked his shoulders in a shrug, all what can I do?

“Get to know the women,” Shaye said. “You might be surprised by what you learn. Like, maybe they’re right for you but maybe they aren’t. And give them a chance to get to know you, to like you without any kind of chemical interference. Hey, here’s a thought. Maybe even go a step further and gift them with something special—prove they are special to you. And I’m not talking about the supposed gift between your legs.”

Mumbling under his breath, Shivawn swiped up his plate and stalked from the room.

Everyone watched him leave, each with a different reaction. Broderick laughed. Dorian frowned, confused, and Shaye heaved a sigh.

“When you are queen,” Valerian said, hoping to tempt her, “you can make as many decrees as your heart desires. You can command the men to do whatever you wish.”

“What!” Broderick shouted.

Dorian banged his head against the tabletop.

Shaye crossed her arms over her chest, causing the neckline of her shirt to gape, revealing a deep plunge of cleavage. His need for her intensified—not because of her cleavage, though he loved the sight, but because the corners of her mouth twitched, as if she were fighting a grin.

Gorgeous girl.

“Well. I see my chosen has quenched one hunger,” a male voice suddenly said from the doorway. “Why don’t I quench another?”

Valerian stiffened. Because of the implication, and the reaction the words elicited in Shaye. The mischievous glint faded from her eyes, and the color drained from her cheeks. The corners of her mouth no longer twitched.

Gnashing his teeth, Valerian twisted in his seat to meet his cousin’s narrowed gaze.

Joachim stood in the doorway. He appeared no more relaxed than yesterday. In fact, he appeared ready for war, weapons strapped over armor.

Joachim wanted to war, so they would war.

It was past time he showed his power-hungry cousin the error of his ways—beginning now.

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

TENSION AND TESTOSTERONE heated the air, burning Shaye’s lungs every time she inhaled. Fury sizzled and snapped between Valerian and Joachim, making everything worse; a raging inferno, barely banked, threatened to destroy, well, everyone.

As a child, she’d lived with emotional people. How many tirades and fits of jealous rage had her mother thrown over the years? Countless. If a husband ever came home late, china was thrown at his head—right along with accusations of infidelity. If a birthday or anniversary was forgotten, tires were slashed.

How many times had her different stepmothers raged?

How often had her father and stepdads experienced mansteria for some silly reason or another?

Shaye had usually hidden in her bedroom.

But none of those people had ever looked as scary as Valerian. The need to kill had darkened his expression. His lips were thinned and pulled back from his teeth—an animalistic scowl.

Until this point, he’d shown her desire, amusement and patience.

“I have a bargain for you, Joachim.” His voice lashed like a barbed whip.

Joachim gave no outward reaction. Although his eyes did bear the same trace of dissatisfaction as Valerian and Shivawn.

“I’m listening.”

“I’ll give you my sword,” Valerian said. “You may have it with my blessing, but you must renounce all claim to the girl.”

Traded for a sword? Be still my heart.

“Unacceptable.” Black brows winged into Joachim’s hairline in a display of arrogance. “If you want the girl, you’ll have to renounce your role as king.”

Dorian and Broderick snarled like animals.

Okay. Enough. Valerian had faults—a lot of faults—but judging by the things she’d seen so far, he was a good king. Most certainly, this black-haired man would be a merciless dictator.

“No,” she said. “As acting queen, I refuse on Valerian’s behalf.”

“You don’t have a voice in this,” Joachim snapped at her.

“And you won’t speak to her in such a manner,” Valerian snapped right back at him.