The Nymph King (Atlantis #3)(22)

"I'll allow you to live," she said through clenched teeth. "That should be payment enough."

He chuckled, a husky, sensual sound of pure enjoyment.

Damn him and his amusement!

"I'll be nice to you. For a little while," she grumbled.

He didn't hesitate. "Do you wish to be chosen by another warrior?" he asked the woman.

Her eyes roved over the remaining, eager men. She shrank back, gulped. Then she slowly shook her head.

"Take her, Shivawn, but do not touch her unless you have her permission. And do not force her to give permission," he added as an afterthought. He paused. "Does that satisfy you, Shaye?"

The way he said her name... she shivered and forced her mind to the matter at hand. No, it didn't satisfy her. But she knew he would not let the girl return to the beach. "Can Shivawn be trusted to obey your command?"

"All of my men obey me." There was a good amount of affront in his tone. "Go," Valerian told the couple.

Shivawn hurried the girl from the room before Shaye could utter another protest. Another man, the one who had hit the wall, swore under his breath.

And on the "selection" continued.

Every time a soldier approached her, Valerian told her exactly what to do. Spit, curse, faint. Thankfully, no one selected her. The line dwindled significantly, until only Shaye and a few others remained. Everyone else had adjourned to their rooms.

Later, when this was over, she suspected Valerian would demand some sort of reward for his aid. More than just her promise to be "nice." He copped a feel when attention was diverted from them, tracing his fingers over the curve of her hip. Dipping his thumb into her navel. Her nerve endings were on fire, clamoring for more of him.

Oddly, his possessive manner thrilled a secret part of her. A part she hadn't known existed. When someone approached her, he stiffened. A few times, he even growled low in his throat, as if he had withstood all that he could.

"It's almost over," he whispered. His breath fanned her ear as he trailed a fingertip along the bumps of her spine.

She almost slumped into a boneless heap. Only the sudden, unexpected feeling of being watched strengthened her resolve to appear unaffected. She felt a heated gaze boring into her, laden with purpose and determination. Eerie goose bumps broke over her as her eyes darted across the remaining men - and collided with a handsome brunet.

His heavy-lidded, come-to-my-bed stare slammed into her, and she stiffened. He scared her. There was menace in his eyes.

"Lean on me if your feet hurt," Valerian said, mistaking her reaction.

She pulled her attention from the dark-haired man. "I'm fine," she said, nearly breathless. Then she frowned; she'd meant to snap at him.

Her captor kept throwing her off guard with his sweet, let-me-care-for-you comments. He was treating her like a precious treasure, seeing to her comforts. She didn't like it. It made her vulnerable, made it harder to resist him.

There had to be something she could do to make him hate her. But what? He laughed at her insults, ignored her taunts. Keep trying until you succeed, damn it. If he continued to be nice to her, she would soften toward him. He might just melt the ice she so desperately needed to survive. What would happen to her then? Love? Would she lose herself to a man who could never return the depth of her feelings? God, no. No, no, no.

With all of her strength she attempted to pull from Valerian's hold, to at last put distance between their bodies. He locked his grip, cutting off her breath and shackling her in place.

"Be still, moon. Already my body hungers for yours, and I'm not sure how much more I can tolerate. We are almost done here."

She stilled, not wanting to arouse him further. But damn this! Why did she have to feel so safe in his arms? Safe and wonderful and aroused? He was dangerous to the solitary life she had built - and wanted - for herself.

"Joachim," Valerian called. "Your turn has arrived." He lowered his voice, murmuring in her ear, "Your scent is amazing. I want you so much. I want - "

"That one," a male voice said. Joachim - the current "picker," the angry-looking brunet who had been staring at her, stepped forward.

Valerian froze. Shaye gasped. She'd been so sure she'd scared everyone away... but he had... Dear Lord. Ice chilled her blood.

"What did you say?" Valerian gritted out. His fingers, wrapped so tightly around her waist, dug into her skin.

"I want the pale one, the girl in your arms." Joachim braced his legs apart, his expression stern and smug. Ready. He looked like a man who craved war. "Give her to me. She is mine."

"VALERIAN," SHAYE SAID, her voice shaky. As shaky as her body. "Help me."

"I will take care of this. Worry not." All at once, Valerian felt infuriated that someone would dare try to take Shaye from him, overjoyed that Shaye felt safest with him and frightened that he might actually lose her.

And to his cousin, no less.

They didn't share an easy camaraderie, for Joachim's thirst for power made him rebellious. Wild. How Valerian was going to change the soldier's mind, he didn't know.

"There are two other females in line," Valerian said. "Are you sure you would not prefer one of them?"

Joachim nodded, never once glancing toward the women in question. Determination filled his eyes. Determination... and lust. For Valerian's head? Or Shaye's body? Either way, Valerian would not give up easily.