The Nymph King (Atlantis #3)(29)

Still nothing. Not a single remark or declaration.

"I didn't think so," she finally muttered. She turned her back to the door and stomped toward the bed, battling despair. She needed to think, to consider all her options. Chatting it up with her abductor wasted valuable time.

She'd stay awake all night if she had to, but she wasn't giving up. She would find a way home. She wouldn't sleep, even though she needed the rest. In slumber, she would become even more vulnerable to Valerian. He would be able to sneak into the room and do whatever he wanted to her - and she would have no idea.

But deep down, she knew that was a lie. A defense against him. When that man pleasured a woman, the woman would know it. Even in sleep, she would know. Her body would sing and weep with pleasure.

The man was a menace.

A menace who couldn't name one thing about her that he liked. Bastard.

"Don't come inside this room," she barked. "Do you hear me? And don't speak to me again. I need silence."

"Shaye."

His guttural growling of her name froze her in place. He'd sounded like he was in pain, like he was about to fall down a long, dark, never-ending pit. "What?" She hoped for a waspish tone, but the question emerged as nothing more than a wisp of air. Was he hurt?

"You are the woman of my heart. The one I have been awaiting the whole of my life, though I didn't know it until I spied you. There isn't one thing that makes you special to me, but all things. Now sleep. Tomorrow promises to be a day ripe with unpleasantness."

Just like that, her knees buckled. She would have fallen flat on her face if she hadn't grabbed the edge of the bed and held herself upright. Dear God. Those words. No one - not her mother, not her father, not brother or sisters or an endless string of nannies - had ever spoken to her like that. Made her feel so important, so necessary.

She barely knew Valerian. In their short time together, she'd railed at him, desired him, cursed him and hit him. Now, with a few words, he made her long to throw herself at him. To destroy every wall she'd ever built, melt every piece of ice she'd ever surrounded herself with, and just throw herself at him.

"Dear God," she whispered, horrified. Everything she'd ever secretly dreamed of hearing had just come from Valerian's lips. How was she going to resist him now?

VALERIAN SPENT the entire night posted at Shaye's door. She'd finally obeyed him, had at last slipped into sleep. Stubborn girl that she was, she had fought it until the end.

He was hyperaware of her every movement. Every sound she made. For hours she'd searched for a way out of the room, then she'd paced and muttered under her breath about "stupid men," "stupid emotions" and "stupid mystical cities coming to life." But her steps had eventually slowed, her curses eventually ceased. He'd heard her drift into unconsciousness with a soft sigh. A quick peek had confirmed that she did indeed sleep, sprawled on the cold, hard floor, her hair spilling around her like a snowy curtain.

He suspected she'd avoided the bed on purpose, and he was still frowning about that fact. Did she think he would not take her if she was not on a bed? Silly woman. He would take her wherever, however he could get her.

Gods, he wanted so badly to touch her.

Just one touch... Such a heady thought. Surely there was nothing wrong with placing her on the bed. He was her man, after all, and it was his duty to see to her comfort.

He shouldn't - he knew he shouldn't - but he allowed himself to enter the room. He swept aside the lace that covered the doorway. Much as he might crave sexual contact with her, he would not touch her in that way. That had been his promise to Joachim... and to Shaye. And he would keep that promise. Gods help him, he would keep it.

His steps quiet, he moved toward her. She still lay on the ground, on her back, one hand over her head, the other next to her ear. He sucked in a breath.

She looked like a winter goddess, a snow nymph, lovelier than Aphrodite herself. That pale hair ribboned around her delicate frame, the strands so silky they glistened as if they'd been sprinkled with starlight. Her eyelashes were light, only a shade darker than her hair. Her lips, those soft, lush, all-your-dreams-come-true lips were parted, begging to be kissed.

Resist, he commanded himself. Resist her allure.

Too late.

She uttered a breathy, sleep-rich sigh. His inexhaustible desire clamored to instant life, reaching for her. Frantic for her. He wanted that sigh in his ears, on his chest - lower still - her breath warm and caressing. If only she didn't appear so soft and vulnerable, so ripe for the taking...

She was to be his greatest satisfaction, his greatest pleasure.

Damn Joachim to Hades, wanting something - someone - that belonged to Valerian! As the curse echoed through his mind, he found his lips lifting in wry humor. Could he blame the man for coveting such an enchanting morsel as Shaye?

Hades, yes! he decided in the next instant. He scowled. She was meant for no man save himself, and those who thought otherwise deserved a painful death. Valerian had never wanted anything as much as he wanted Shaye, and not being able to have her immediately was... difficult. Hard - literally.

Bending down, he scooped her into his arms. She was as light as he remembered. As soft. As warm. As lovely. "I will have you yet," he told her. "Say nothing if you agree with me."

Of course she made no reply.

He was grinning, his humor restored, as he carried her to the bed. Gently he placed her on the mattress, his arms already protesting her loss. He removed her sandals and traced his finger over her coral-painted toes. As he straightened, he smoothed the hair from her face and reveled in the feel of her glorious skin. As cool as she looked, she was surprisingly, wondrously hot.