The Nymph King (Atlantis #3)(31)

I have to get out of here, she thought, suddenly urgent, before he comes to get me.

He. Valerian. Unbidden, his image rose in her mind. Strong, proud. Sexual. A hedonist to the extreme, with skin that looked like dark, lickable cream, hair as radiant as spun gold, and eyes... God, his eyes. They beckoned. They teased. They promised. His turquoise irises were as mesmerizing as a turbulent ocean and just as deep. Those long, dark lashes acted as the perfect frame, the perfect contrast.

What are you doing mooning over him? Dummy! It's time to leave. Fighting a rush of desire, she lumbered to her feet - and tripped over her sandals. So. He'd taken off her shoes. She should be grateful that was all he'd removed.

Shaye used the surprisingly modern bathroom and washed her face, hoping the water would also wash away her unwanted feelings. Then she circled the room, seeing everything she'd seen the night before - a prison.

There might not be a secret exit, she thought then, but there was a way out. The front door. Was Valerian still guarding it?

As quietly as possible, she tiptoed toward the lace. The closer she came, the stronger Valerian's masculine scent became, a heady mixture of aroused man and determined warrior. Her skin prickled with delight. She tried to hold her nose, to fight the scent's allure and the weakening effect it had on her.

Once at the doorway, she clasped the material and inched it to the side. All the while, her heart drummed a staccato rhythm. Da-dum da-dum da-dum. Would he be there, awake and waiting? Or had he thankfully, blessedly, fallen asleep?

"Good morning, Shaye."

She gasped. Valerian stood just in front of her, arms crossed over his massive chest, legs braced apart. Their gazes linked, clashed. Her treacherous heart lost its rhythm and skipped a beat. He looked as unbelievably mouthwatering as before. Shirtless. His body roped with the tightest abs she'd ever seen. Golden hair tumbled onto his forehead and shoulders.

She licked her lips. "What are you doing here?"

His blue gaze raked over her, peeling away the shells, parting the grass. "Waiting for you, of course."

A shiver tripped along her spine. Oh, his voice. How could she have forgotten that take-no-prisoners voice? Pure temptation. Utter decadence. She mentally reinforced the icy walls around her. He's a lecherous abductor. Dangerous in every way.

Yes, she'd wanted to throw herself at him last night. Now, in the light of day, she told herself that had been a moment of impaired judgment. A moment of exhaustion and insanity.

"Did you dream of me?" he asked.

"Yes," she admitted grudgingly. She had. She'd dreamed of his hands caressing her, of his mouth devouring her.

His lush lips inched into a surprised but pleased smile.

"You were naked," she told him.

His grin spread; his eyes gleamed with satisfaction.

"And tied up... "

He arched his eyebrows in smug expectation. "I did not know the idea of bondage would please you."

"Oh, I love the idea of tying you up." She paused dramatically. "Just like in my dream, you'll be secured to an anthill and the little things will eat you alive."

His grin faded completely, but the twinkle in his eyes did not diminish. "Cruel woman." He propped his shoulder on the side wall, a pose of carnal relaxation. Sink into my arms, his posture proclaimed. I'll catch you. "I dreamed of you, too. Naked."

Suddenly light-headed, she backed up a step.

He showed no mercy, and stepped toward her. "You were splayed for my enjoyment." His eyes were heavy-lidded now, wicked. Intent. "And enjoy you I did. Twice."

She dropped the curtain in place, cutting the sexy man from her view. Breathe, she had to breathe. The oxygen she did manage to draw in burned her throat, singed her lungs. He had only to speak, and his words began to paint a picture in her mind. A terribly beautiful picture.

His rich chuckle floated across the small distance, wrapping her in a decadent shiver. "There are robes in the closet if you wish to change," he said. "The shells look... uncomfortable."

That hadn't been the word he'd wanted to say, she knew. There had been a wicked inflection in his voice, as if he'd meant to say "easily removable" or "exquisite." So, change? Hell, yes. "Will you take me home today?" Her voice trembled.

"You are home."

She flipped him off, taking a small amount of satisfaction from the action, even though he couldn't see it. Then, with nothing else to do, she trudged to the closet. She'd given the gowns inside only a cursory inspection last night. Changing clothes would be nice.

Feminine dresses abounded, a sea of colors and silks. They were long and flowing, barely there scarves held together by sheer luck. One in particular drew and held her attention. It was a drapery of ivory, threaded with gold. Both the hem and leg slit were twined with amber leaves and emerald flowers. Jewels sparkled from the deep vee in the bodice.

"Once you have bathed and dressed, Shaye, we will have breakfast."

She snorted. "I'm not bathing until there's a lock on the door."

"A lock would not keep me out if I wanted in."

He was right, she realized with frustration.

"You will feel better after a bath."

"I'll feel better once I'm home," she told him darkly.

"Must I state the obvious?" He sighed. "Again?"