Forbidden Craving: The Nymph King / The Beautiful Ashes

He stilled, hands clenched at his sides. “Then I hereby claim Shaye Octavia Holling as my mate. Your queen. Any protests will be met by my sword.”

“Now hold on just a moment,” Shaye called. “We haven’t agreed—”

“Except hers,” he interjected. Her protests would never be met by his sword.

“Valerian,” she said.

He ignored her and moved in front of Broderick.

Broderick kneeled, bowed his head. “What should we do about Joachim, my king? Say our goodbyes?”

Valerian still didn’t want Joachim to die, and banishment would get him killed in a hurry.

He searched for the females among the crowd. “Is there a healer among you?”

After a pause, Shivawn’s silent, black-haired wench stepped forward. Tears glistened in her eyes as she raised a tentative hand.

Excellent. “Take Joachim and the healer to the sick room,” he told Broderick. “She’s to bandage him up and nothing more. Make sure she doesn’t touch him sexually.” If she did, Joachim would heal speedily, his injuries forgotten far too soon.

Broderick nodded and stood.

Now. Time to see to his woman.

Without another word, Valerian clasped her hand and tugged her from the arena.

They were meant to be together—and now he would prove it.

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

POSEIDON WAS BORED.

He was god of the sea, ruler of fish, merpeople and ocean waves, and nothing excited him anymore. Not even the storms and destruction he’d recently caused. People had screamed, people had died, yada yada yada.

Perched on a boulder beneath a cliff, he traced his fingers through the dappled liquid surrounding him. There had to be something to combat this constant sense of ennui.

Create another hurricane or tsunami? No. The last few had been yawners.

Start a war? No. Too much effort for too little reward.

Abandon the water and enter Olympus? No again. The other gods were selfish and greedy, and he had no desire to deal with them, his temper too sharp.

What could he do, what could he do? Once he would have visited Atlantis—

Atlantis, he thought, straightening. Oh, oh, oh. Was that...yes, yes, it was. For the first time in an eternity, he experienced a flash of excitement.

He hadn’t considered Atlantis and its people—his subjects—in years. Many had called for him, but he’d ignored their pleas for help. The last time he’d offered aid, he’d received no thanks, only complaints.

Perhaps the people—or rather, the abominations, as his brothers often called them—had learned to be appreciative.

There was only one way to find out.

Poseidon grinned.

* * *

SHAYE’S ATTENTION REMAINED on Valerian’s back as he led her through the palace, following the same path they’d taken earlier. She offered no protests. Muscles strained and bunched in his bare shoulders. Blood blended with sand, both splattered all over him, forming lines and circles on his skin.

He’d very nearly killed a man without hesitation or remorse. His own cousin, no less. But the biggest surprise? She’d watched him do it, and she hadn’t flinched.

She’d been too relieved. He’d won, as promised. He would live and keep his crown.

The fight had unfolded like something out of a movie. Valerian had moved with grace and fluidity, each intricate step as beautiful as it was dangerous. Her heart had drummed erratically in her chest, only to stop altogether when Valerian received his first injury. She’d been unprepared for the blast of anger she’d felt toward Joachim.

More than that, she’d been unprepared for the fright she’d felt on Valerian’s behalf.

She could have run—should have run. What better time to escape? Like a girl besotted, she’d stayed. Not because she’d promised Valerian—a promise made under duress wasn’t really a promise, to her way of thinking—but because she’d had to know the outcome of the battle.

In the end, he’d shocked her. He’d purposely missed his cousin’s heart, allowing the man to live to fight another day.

He cared about his people. Even those who defied him. How many other kings could say the same?

And then, what he’d said...

I hereby claim Shaye Octavia Holling as my mate. Your queen.

Again and again the words had whispered through her mind, making her shiver.

I should be...outraged?

Yes, of course. Most definitely.

After all, this thing with Valerian, it wasn’t a game. It was her life. Unlike him, she wasn’t immortal.

Wait. Were nymphos immortal? How old was Valerian?

Anyway. She didn’t get a second chance.

“You did good out there,” she said grudgingly.

“Some women abhor violence,” he said. “Some are titillated by it. Which are you?”

“Neither,” she said. “But I’m certain there are other ways to be, like ambivalent or confused.”

“So...you don’t fear me?” Fear now saturated his voice.

“No.” Truth. He could have harmed her a million times over by now, but he’d only ever treated her gently. He’d even placed himself in harm’s way in order to protect her.

“But you do desire me?” Hope had replaced the fear.