The Nymph King (Atlantis #3)(33)

Did he know she was aroused? He couldn't know. Please, don't let him know. "I was - I'm just hungry."

For several seconds he didn't speak. She used the time to calm herself down, to recite math equations in her mind. If he knew just how vulnerable she was to him, he'd pounce without mercy.

"Come, moon," he said evenly. "I will feed you."

She swallowed past the sudden lump in her throat. She'd eat breakfast with him because she needed out of this room and needed to keep up her strength. Then she could escape him and search the palace for a way out. A way home. She couldn't stay here. Couldn't stay with this potent man a moment longer than necessary.

"Let's get this over with," she muttered.

JOACHIM LAY IN HIS BED, his arms propped under his head. Scowling, he stared up at the glistening crystal, wishing he could take comfort in the plethora of colors shooting from the jagged shards. Pink, like a woman's nipples. White, like a woman's skin. Russet, like a woman's soulful eyes.

Alas, he took no comfort.

Night had long passed, and morning was here. Through it all, his thoughts remained black and refused to settle. He shifted and eyed the wall of weapons he'd acquired over the years. A weapon for every man he'd slain. Their numbers were so vast, he'd long ago lost count. He was not ashamed of that. No, he reveled in his victories.

That was why his behavior last night cut his pride so deeply.

After leaving Valerian and Shaye, he had brought the two females to his room. He'd been about to enter one; he'd held his cock in his hand, poised, ready. She'd been willing, so willing, writhing in passion, opening herself wider. And he'd stopped. Stopped!

As he had stared down at her, the sense of all-consuming need had abandoned him. There one moment, gone the next. An image of the dark-headed witch he'd wanted so badly at the selection ceremony, the one with the curly hair and ripe little body, had flashed through his mind. Suddenly he'd wanted her. Only her. He'd pictured her in Shivawn's arms, moaning, mindless with pleasure, and a terrible rage had overcome him.

Joachim's two bed partners had tried their hardest to excite him after that, but they'd failed. He should have taken them anyway. He needed to sate himself and regain his strength. Yet... he'd sent them away to find another lover and pleasured himself instead.

Still. He was as weak as before. But at least Valerian, too, would be weakened this day, having gone without a woman's touch. His mate's touch, if he were to be believed. Mate. How Joachim wanted to find his, that one woman who would love him above all others.

He sighed. He didn't want to take the pale woman from Valerian. She did not excite him. Not really. Not like the dark-headed one with her sensual, lush curves, her innocent and wild contradictions. What was her name? She hadn't said. Hadn't spoken at all. He wondered what her voice would be like. Low and husky? Sweet and soft? If he'd had the opportunity to choose her, the night would have ended differently. Damn Shivawn for taking her and forcing him to change his plan.

As his friend had led the lovely witch from the room, Joachim had decided to console himself by taking Valerian's crown.

He liked and admired his cousin, but he liked and admired power more.

Joachim did not enjoy being told what to do. He never had. He preferred to give the orders, to have others do his bidding. Even his women. He was master. He was commander.

His cousin ruled with an iron fist, expecting total and complete obedience. It was time to change that. It was time for Joachim to rule.

Valerian had offered to fight him, true, but Joachim could not become king that way. No, Valerian had to willingly agree to surrender his throne. Would he? Valerian had had a night to consider his options, to realize there was only one thing to be done to keep the pale woman.

"The crown will be mine," Joachim snarled.

Some men were meant for greatness. Some were... not. And Valerian had made many foolish mistakes lately. The first and most important was leaving the nymph females behind to take this palace. The women were now lost, no trace of them to be found in either the Inner or Outer City. Yes, Valerian had a contingent of men searching for them even now. But that wasn't enough. They would not need finding if the king had brought them along in the first place.

The second and most unforgivable mistake Valerian had made was not letting the men travel to the surface until yesterday, when their strength was nearly drained. The palace needed guarding, true, but the men could not guard if they were weak.

I would not have allowed such things to happen. His eyes narrowed. The pale woman was simply a means to an end. He'd seen the way Valerian hovered over her, protecting her, silently willing the warriors away from her. So Joachim had chosen her, hoping his cousin would do anything to keep her.

His hope had paid off.

And perhaps, when he became sovereign, he would simply take the dark-haired witch from Shivawn. He grinned at the thought.

Oh, he was going to like being king.

WHEN SHAYE BRUSHED ASIDE the door cloth and stepped toward him, Valerian's breath caught in his throat, burning like the hottest fire.

Would she always affect him this way?

She wore his shirt, his pants, and even though they bagged on her slight frame, she was the most beautiful sight he'd ever beheld. The dome's rainbow flecks glistened over her cheeks. Like a siren she was, luring him, tempting him. He would willingly go to his death for her.