The Nymph King. Gena Showalter
to him. Perhaps he needed to take the woman at his side the same way he’d taken the dragon palace. With cunning. With precision. With an absolute lack of mercy.
Oh, yes. Slowly his lips lifted in a grin. She would soon find herself on the receiving end of a full-scale, irresistible attack. He could hardly wait to begin.
“Do you like the palace?” he asked again.
She hesitated before saying, “I’ll be honest. Your home…the walls, remind me of you.”
Our home, little moonbeam, our home. “Thank you.”
Frowning, she slapped at his hand, trying to force him to release his hold. “That wasn’t a compliment.”
“Being told pictures of sex make you think of me is not a compliment?”
Her mouth fell open, but she snapped it closed. “That’s not how I meant it, and you know it.”
He chuckled. “Deny it all you want, but every time you look at me you think of naked flesh and writhing pleasure.”
“Don’t forget the gag and rope,” she growled. “Let me go.”
“I like the sound of the rope.”
“You would, you dirty pervert.”
The air was heavy with anticipation and excitement as he stepped into the dining hall. Up Yours stilled, gasped. He stopped and wrapped an arm around her waist. For once, she didn’t protest. Didn’t fight. Shock probably held her captive.
“We have arrived,” he announced. A contingent of warriors lined one side of the room. A sweet-smelling cluster of females lined the other. And a large wooden table etched with fierce dragon heads separated them.
He’d meant to destroy the table, for he wanted no dragon possession in his home. But he’d found no other table large enough for his men.
Perhaps he’d keep it and love his woman on it.
The walls were plain onyx and ivory. Before, sapphires and emeralds, diamonds and rubies had glittered from the wide expanse, but they had been removed by human soldiers months ago. Those humans had been slaughtered by dragons, providing the opportunity Valerian needed to sneak his men inside and conquer.
Usually nymphs only attacked when provoked, keeping their bestial natures under strict control. Yet dragons were enemy to the only ally they possessed: the vampires. Unlike every other race in Atlantis, the vampires did not curse the nymphs for their power over women; they did not seethe with jealousy. Layel, the king, found it amusing.
Wiggling at Valerian’s side, his mate said, “I’m not placing myself on the menu of this—this smorgasbord.” Her elbow slammed into his stomach, almost knocking the air from his lungs.
“Be still, woman.”
“Die, bastard.”
His men watched them with varying expressions of horror. He’d taught each of them the surface language, for he believed knowledge equaled power, so they knew exactly what the little moonbeam had said to him. Women simply did not act that way. Not with Valerian, at least. Women loved and worshipped him. They fought for his notice. They begged for his touch.
They did not command him to die!
He was not embarrassed by this display, however. No, he was elated. If Valerian, the most desired of the nymphs, failed to woo her, his men would know that they were destined to fail with her, as well. And by choosing her and failing, they would be forced to sleep alone this night, something they would hope to avoid. For right now, they wanted sex. Not love, not a mate. Just sex.
Valerian had to force himself to frown when he tapped her bottom, knowing it would encourage her antics all the more.
She screeched. “Did you just spank me? Tell me you didn’t just spank me, Valerian, before I introduce your nose to my fist. Again.”
Ah, he loved hearing his name from her soft, pink lips. Because her face was so pale, the color of her lips stood out like a beacon, lush and begging to be sampled.
“I’m waiting,” she growled.
“No. You’re beautiful.”
At first her expression softened and he was given a glimpse of a sweet and vulnerable female. He almost kissed her, unable to help himself. Then fury sparked in her eyes, driving away the heart-melting image. “Don’t talk to me like that. I don’t like it.”
He blinked. She would rather he utter mean things? Interesting. Confusing and odd, as well, but something to ponder. Why would a woman want such a thing? Was it a defense against him?
“My king,” Broderick prompted. “We are ready. We have instructed the women to remain in line until they are chosen.”
A quick count revealed more men than women. “My elite will pick first,” Valerian said. They had fought in more wars, were stronger, faster, and needed sex more than an average solider.
The elite cheered. The others groaned in disappointment.
“Stay quiet,” he said to his woman, knowing very well she would do the opposite. “And stay in this line. My men need a good look at you.”
To his utter delight, she retorted, “Like hell. No matter how eager everyone else might be, I will not quietly accept this T-and-A pageant. I will not passively stand here.”
Except…she didn’t bolt. No, she pressed into his side, allowing him to surround her with his strength, though she still wouldn’t face him. Her shoulder brushed his chest, and several strands of her silky hair caught in his nipple loop. He could hear the erratic beat of her heart, could feel the warmth of her soft, soft skin.
He splayed his fingers over her rib cage, and she shivered.
He had to see her face, had to see what emotions lingered there. Helpless, he cupped her chin and forced her to look at him. Their gazes clashed and held. The rest of the world faded away, as it always seemed to do when he looked at her. Her eyes were dark velvet, rich and warm, absolutely riveting in her pale face.
“What is your name?” he found himself asking again.
“There’s no reason for you to know,” she said breathlessly. She licked her lips, then ran the plump bottom between her teeth. His cock jumped in reaction. “I’m leaving soon. Very soon.”
As if he would ever allow this delicious morsel to leave him. “If I promise to help you drive these men away,” he whispered, “will you tell me?”
“I—maybe.” Her eyelids slitted, and the length of her lashes cast spiky shadows over her cheeks. “Why would you help me?”
Why indeed. The answer should be obvious to her. “I want to keep you for myself.” He stated the words as baldly as possible, smiling slowly, eagerly. He needed an extreme reaction from her. Anything to appall his men further.
As he’d hoped, she began struggling against him. “I am not a piece of meat. This is not a buffet. You should be ashamed of yourself.”
Valerian forced himself to sigh. “If you will not remain in line, I will be obligated to hold you here.” A wave of triumph swept through him. Things were working out just as he’d hoped. “Broderick,” he called.
“Yes, my king.” Broderick stepped forward, his color high.
“As second-in-command and leader of the elite, you may have first choice.” Valerian loosened his hold on his captive so that her movements were more obvious. She squirmed all the harder, her pants and grunts filling the air. The actions, the sounds, aroused him.
Broderick grinned and approached the females, starting at the far end. Feminine twitters and purrs echoed throughout the spacious enclosure. “Pick me, pick me,” erupted.
Relishing his role, the warrior slowly edged his way down the line, stopping here and there to unzip a woman’s dress