Forbidden Craving: The Nymph King / The Beautiful Ashes

Other droplets slid lower...

Her gaze snagged on the man in the middle, and she forgot how to blink.

Dangerous, her most feminine instincts whispered. Lethal.

He was taller than the rest of the group, his dark blond hair hanging in a wet tangle around features that had been chiseled by a master. His eyes... Oh, glory hallelujah, his eyes. They were blue-green, neither color blending with the other but standing alone, so wickedly mesmerizing she felt the pull of them all the way to her bones.

Her nipples hardened, and an ache suddenly throbbed between her legs.

There was something wild about him. Something untamed and savage. His confident swagger, perhaps. The deceptively calm glint in his expression that said he did what he pleased, when he pleased.

As she stared at him, he stared at her. He studied her face, searing arousal flickering in those magnificent eyes, the blue-green deepening and mixing at last, becoming smoldering turquoise.

Raw, masculine perfection.

“Mine,” her mom said on a wispy catch of breath. “All mine.”

A previously missed detail hit her awareness. The warriors carried swords.

They’re armed for war.

She gulped. The one in the middle cocked his finger, beckoning her to join him.

Shivering, drowning in the flood of his maleness, she struggled to shake her head no.

Go to him, her stupid whoremones beseeched.

She shook her head, violently this time.

He frowned at her. “Come here.” His husky voice drifted across the small distance, almost as intoxicating and heady as a caress.

In seconds, a sensual fog wove through her mind. Her knees quaked, and another shiver traipsed the length of her spine.

What would happen if he actually touched her?

What would happen if he trailed those luscious pink lips along her every curve and hollow?

Images flashed through her mind. The man’s mouth on her breasts, his fingers slipping deep inside her, her legs parting to give him better access...

He’s seducing me without even trying.

Either that, or she was seducing herself!

“Come here,” he repeated.

“Yes,” Tamara said, already stepping toward him. The dreamy glaze in her eyes had darkened with eagerness. “I need to touch you, or I’ll die. Please let me touch you.”

The part of Shaye that recognized how dangerous these men were also realized there was something wrong with the entire situation—she still couldn’t bring herself to care.

Must fight this!

Scowling, she reached out to latch on to her mom’s arm and jerk Tamara to a halt. “Don’t go near them.”

“Let me go.” She struggled against Shaye’s hold. “I’ve never been so in love. I need to be with my man.”

“We’re going back to the tent.” Dragging her flailing mother behind her, Shaye raced toward the outside reception area, where laughing voices, soft music and unsuspecting guests greeted her.

She dared a glance behind her. The warriors hadn’t slowed or changed direction. They’d followed her, lust in their eyes.

“Help us,” she shouted, flinging sand with every step. She swept the curtain aside and entered the tent. “Someone call 911!”

No one paid her any heed. They were too busy dancing and drinking themselves into oblivion, thanks to the open bar.

“Let me go,” her mom continued to shout. When that failed to gain her release, she sank her teeth into Shaye’s arm.

“Ow!” Not knowing what else to do, Shaye hooked her foot behind her mom’s ankle and pushed, inadvertently sending the bride hurling into the dessert table. Platters of food crashed to the ground.

Several people glanced at Shaye before concentrating on the fallen bride with confusion and horror.

“There are men—” Shaye pointed “—out there. Dangerous men with swords. Does anyone have a gun? Did someone call 911?”

Tamara jolted to her feet, unconcerned by the red-and-white frosting now streaking her ten-thousand-dollar dress. She elbowed her way past the guests. “Where he is? My love! My heart!”

“Tamara?” Conner, her new husband, rushed to his bride to lock her in his arms, his expression both concerned and incredulous as she struggled to break free. “What’s wrong with you, kitten?”

“I need...him.” The last word was uttered on a relieved, happy sigh.

The six sea gods had just stepped into the tent; they consumed every inch of breathable space and blocked the only viable exit.

The music suddenly stopped. The male guests cowered, as if death had just arrived, and the females gasped in bliss, already moving toward the warriors, reaching out, eager to touch the exquisite display of masculinity.

This couldn’t be happening.

The one in the middle scanned the crowd, as if drinking in every detail...but also searching...searching...and finally locking on Shaye. Satisfaction glowed in his eyes.

She trembled as dizzying warmth speared her. More images rushed through her mind. This man naked and sweaty, pressed against her, licking her...

No, no, no. She forced her mind to blank.

Who were these men?

And how did the tall one make her forget who and what she was, and simply enjoy the pleasures she somehow knew he alone could give her?

He alone? What madness!

She grabbed the cake knife from the floor, icing coating her fingers, holding the weapon in front of her. Her heart thumped erratically in her chest.

After multiple physical altercations with different stepsiblings—and sometimes having to fend off a new stepfather—Shaye had considered self-defense classes prudent. The problem? She’d never had to put the lessons into action.