The Nymph King (Atlantis #3)(35)

Without a word, Shaye commandeered the chair at the head of the table. As she did so, she eyed him, expecting him to balk, he was sure. When he didn't, she shrugged and piled a plate high with food.

She swallowed a bite of coconut cream, and her eyes closed in sweet surrender. "Who prepared this? Surely not your army. They may look life beefcake, but I doubt they know how to cook it."

"As if I would allow my men to cook," he said, filling his plate.

"Hey, there's nothing wrong with a man knowing how to prepare a meal." She popped a grape into her mouth.

He eased onto the bench beside her. "Warriors battle. Warriors kill. Warriors seduce. They do not cook. That is a servant's job."

"What if all your servants get sick and can't work? What if all your servants are stolen? What will all your big, strong warriors do then, huh?"

He blinked, the idea never having occurred to him. Who would be foolish enough to steal from a nymph? "We would acquire new servants."

"Typical," she said dryly. Her gaze traveled the room.

Looking for a way out? he wondered. He wouldn't doubt if she'd engaged him in this conversation about servants just to distract him. He let her do it, though. Talking with her excited him. "How is such a thing typical?" He leaned back and bit into a strawberry. How he would have loved to trace the berry over her lips and lick the juice away.

"In my experience, men such as yourself are - "

"Men such as myself?" he interjected.

"Yes."

"What kind of man is that?"

Her gaze returned to him, and she seemed to forget her search. "Arrogant. Bossy. Chauvinistic. Pigheaded. Stubborn. Half-witted. Spoiled. Demanding. Self-absorbed. Morally corrupt."

When she paused for breath, he grumbled, "Is that all?"

"No. Horny. Overbearing. Mean." She paused, tapped a finger against her lips, then nodded. "That's all. Anyway, as I was saying. Men are - "

"'Mean'?" He frowned. "I have been the epitome of nice to you, catering to your every need. Have I not clothed you? Fed you? Kept you safe and warm? Refrained from making love to you?"

She pursed her lips. "Did you not steal me from everything I hold dear? Have you not refused over and over again to let me go?"

Unconcerned, he waved a hand through the air. "One day you will thank me for my refusal. Now, please continue with your explanation of my 'typical' male behavior."

"Fine." She raised her chin, looking down at him. "But you won't like it."

"Nevertheless. I will listen. Because I am nice."

"Nice? Really? To save your male pride from doing something you consider beneath you, you would rather steal someone from their home and their family so they can do it for you." She bit into a strawberry of her own, white teeth sinking into the fruit. Droplets of juice trickled down her chin. "I'm living proof."

His body tensed. Once again he was overcome with the desire to lick juice off of her lips and chin, perhaps cover the rest of her with strawberry juice, as well, and lick that, too. Several sweetly tart droplets would pool in her navel, of course, before dripping to the pale, silvery hair between her legs. She would writhe when his tongue followed the liquid. She would tunnel her hands in his hair. Her knees would squeeze his temples.

The fantasy came to a halt when she wiped the naughty juice away and scowled over at him. "You're staring at me, and I don't like it. Stop."

Her voice held a strangled edge, as if she fought a wave of anger - or desire.

"Yes, I'm staring," he said. "You are a beautiful woman." He popped another grape into his mouth and relished her dismayed shock. Normally he ate his share of fish, as well as the fruit, but right now he hungered only for Shaye. His woman. His mate.

"Do you have no reaction to my words, then?" She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "I all but called you dishonorable."

"Why should I react to your words? They are true. I would rather steal someone from their home than cook for myself."

Her mouth fell open, forming a delightful O.

He arched a brow. "My easy admission surprises you, I see."

"Well, yeah." She regarded him warily.

"I have only ever taken those in need of a better life, Shaye, or those I thought I could give an easier life, whether they thought they needed it or not. The men who prepared this meal were slaves to the demons before I stole them. They were forced to steal, kill and destroy, and would have one day become the main course of a demon meal. Believe me, they are grateful that I took them." He leaned back on the bench, stretching out the long length of his legs, watching her, gauging. "Perhaps, though, you will help me see the error of my ways. I am more than willing to let you try to convince me of my terrible deeds - over and over again. I listen best when the speaker is naked."

As he watched her, a flush of pink suffused her cheeks. Another blush. The hedonistic women of his acquaintance were as comfortable with sex and erotic banter as he was. That Shaye found the topic risqu¨| enough to blush excited him. Mesmerized him.

He had to touch her.

He was just leaning toward her, outstretching his hand to see if that blush of hers gave off any heat and perhaps spread to her breasts, when two of his warriors strode into the room. Disappointed, he fell back into his chair.