The Nymph King (Atlantis #3)(34)

"If you're going to tell me to change," she said, challenge in her voice, "save your breath."

Tell her to change? Never. "I like you just as you are."

Surprise darkened her eyes, making the brown velvet swirl with black.

He held out his hand, not touching her, but needing to. So badly he wanted her to accept him. He wanted her willing. Wanted her to find joy in each and every moment of contact they shared, as he did.

That glorious gaze of hers flicked to his palm. Slowly the color abandoned her cheeks. So pale now, he thought. She could have been a dream, a ghost. A phantom come to torment him.

A flicker of something blanketed her expression. Pain? Panic? "No. No touching." She shook her head, punctuating the words. She even whipped her hands behind her back, as if to remove temptation.

Hearing her rejection, he decided to push her - to see how far she would allow him to push her, really. He wanted her touch too much to admit defeat so early in the game. "Sweet moonbeam, why won't you acquiesce over something so small? I am not asking for more than a touch." Yet.

"Please. I'm not stupid. One touch will lead to one kiss. One kiss will lead - " She flushed, returning that heavenly, rosy glow to her skin. She cleared her throat. "You get the picture." Chin high, she sailed past him. But she stopped abruptly at the fork of doorways. She didn't turn to face him. "Which way is breakfast?"

"What if I told you I was the main course?" He watched her back stiffen, watched her hands clench at her sides. However long it took, he'd chip at her resistance until she caved. I'll have you begging for me, love. "Would you be so eager to leave then?"

Waves of anger and frustration radiated from her. "Which way?" she ground out.

He paused a moment before responding, drinking in the vision of her pale hair tumbling down her back. Some of the ends curled, some of them fell straight. What he would have given to sift his fingers through the thick mass. His home? His life?

His soul?

Yes, all of those things. The need was sharp inside him, yet so unattainable at the moment. "I will show you the way," he said, his voice deep, nearly a croak. He closed the distance between them, his long legs quickly eating up the short space, and brushed past her, purposefully caressing his arm against hers.

Gasping, she jumped away from him as if he'd shoved her. She even glared at him with suspicion. His lips twitched in amusement and victory. Oh, yes. She will be mine. Her awareness of him - for that's what this reaction was, whether she denied it or not - would ultimately be her downfall.

She might not have accepted him as her mate, but her body recognized him. Desired him. And when the physical body desired something, or someone, it did whatever was necessary to convince the mind to seize it. People could not help themselves. They wanted what they wanted, bad for them or not.

Shaye would be no different.

Soon, he thought. Soon.

"Don't you ever wear a shirt?" she grumbled, turning away her gaze.

"I saw how you looked at my chest and decided it was in my best interest to never wear a shirt again."

Her lips compressed into a thin line. "I was staring in horror."

"Who are you trying to convince? Me? Or yourself?"

She bared her teeth in a scowl.

He had made his point, so he let the subject drop. For now. "Breakfast is this way." He clasped her hand (without permission) and led her out of his quarters, down the winding hallway of his army's barracks. Several couples had decided to camp there, even when the loving was done. They lay naked and intertwined in the open. Unlike the chaotic moans of last night, all was now silent. Most likely everyone was exhausted from their long night of sexual gratification and debauchery.

How he would have liked to be in their numbers, to have experienced that same satisfaction.

Perhaps tonight...

"So, what are we going to do about Joachim?" Shaye asked. "I'm not going to be his slave. No matter what. And don't tell me we'll deal with him when he wakes up. Give me an answer this time. I hate not knowing."

We, she'd said. Not I. Not you. We. He liked the sound of that, liked that she did not reject the thought of his aid. Liked that she saw them as partners in this. "Worry not. I will do whatever is necessary to keep you with me."

"Would you - " she gulped " - kill him?"

"If necessary." He answered without hesitation.

She uttered a frustrated groan. "If you would just take me to the beach, he couldn't have me and you wouldn't have to commit murder."

"If I took you back, I couldn't have you, either."

"Exactly."

"Your plan - what is it you told me about my bargaining skills? - sucks. Yes, your plan sucks."

He kicked a pile of clothing out of their way and turned a corner. Finally the dining hall came into view. A fresh, warm scent wafted to him. The male centaurs and minotaurs he'd acquired from the city had prepared the usual breakfast of fish, fruits and nuts.

Beside him Shaye purred, "Mmm." Her stomach growled.

Usually at this time of the morning warriors surrounded the table, devouring every morsel of food. Now he and Shaye were alone, the servants having already retreated to the kitchen for their own meal, his men still sleeping and recovering from the night's pleasures.