The Nymph King (Atlantis #3)(45)

He hadn't considered Atlantis and its people in years. He'd walked away from them, thinking - hoping, perhaps - that they'd destroy themselves so that he'd never again have to gaze upon what he considered an abomination. Instead they'd thrived and he'd let them, because they had obeyed the laws he'd set in place. More than that, he'd been completely caught up in his humans and had forgotten about the races of creatures made before the formula of Man had been perfected.

Yes, it was past time he checked on Atlantis and its citizens.

Poseidon couldn't help himself. He grinned.

SHAYE STARED at Valerian's back as he led her through the palace, following the same path they'd taken earlier. She didn't protest. Muscles strained and bunched in his bare shoulders. Blood blended with sand, and both were splattered all over him, forming lines and circles on his skin.

He'd very nearly killed a man. His own cousin, no less. Might have, actually, if Joachim's wounds became infected. He had done this without hesitation. Without remorse. She'd watched him do it and hadn't flinched.

She'd been too relieved that he was the winner and would live.

The fight had unfolded like something out of a movie. Valerian had moved with grace and fluidity, each intricate step as beautiful as it was dangerous. A menacing ballet. Her heart had drummed erratically in her chest, then stopped altogether when Valerian was injured. She'd been unprepared for the anger she'd felt toward Joachim in that moment.

She'd been unprepared for the fright she'd felt for Valerian.

She could have run away and escaped the madness. But she hadn't. She'd stayed. Not because she had promised Valerian - a promise made under duress wasn't really a promise, to her way of thinking - but because knowing the outcome of the battle had seemed vital to her own survival.

I hereby claim Shaye Octavia Holling as my woman. My mate, my queen, he had said.

His words drifted through her mind, making her shiver now as they had in the arena. He'd said them, and they hadn't bothered her as much as they should have. They hadn't bothered her at all, really. She'd actually experienced a tremor of - she growled, just remembering - contentment.

Just then Valerian stumbled over his own feet. He quickly righted himself, but the action brought her to the present. "You're injured," she said, as if he didn't already know. Her concern for him doubled. "You need a doctor."

He didn't turn to face her. "You will act as my healer."

The thought was as appealing as it was disturbing. "I know nothing about wound care."

"I trust you."

Why? She didn't trust herself. Not around him. "I might do more harm than good."

"Shaye," he said, clearly exasperated. "You are the only person I want touching me in any way."

Put like that... "Fine. But when you die, you can tell God I warned you."

His shoulders shook, and she heard the rumbling purr of his laughter. Unbidden, her lips inched into a half smile and she forgot her concerns. She liked his amusement.

"Were you trying to save him," she asked, "or did you accidentally miss his heart?"

The question made him stiffen. "I never miss an intended target."

Apparently male pride was the same for nymphs as it was for humans. "What if he challenges you again? And what if he cheats next time, hitting you unaware?"

"He will not."

"How can you be sure?" she persisted.

"Joachim lost. He was shown as the weaker warrior. Whether he kills me in the future or not, he will never be accepted as leader."

"Oh." She barely managed the one-syllable reply, so upset was she by the thought of Valerian dying.

"What's more," Valerian continued, unaware, "he did not need to die for you to become my woman, and that is the main reason I fought him."

A shiver rolled through her. "I am not your woman."

"Cease your protests, moon. They will only embarrass you when you at last admit your love for me."

She snorted, but quickly changed the subject. His words were a little too... prophetic. "Where are you taking me?" she said, studying the torch-lit hallway with its familiar nicked-and-scuffed walls. Recognizing the area, the answer hit her, and every molecule of air in her lungs froze. "No!"

A pause. A sigh. "My bedroom," he admitted reluctantly. "Yes."

Her stomach clenched against the sudden bombardment of erotic sensation. Valerian. Bed.

Hell. No.

She shivered again. "Are you going to lock me inside?" The question trembled from her.

"No." There was more determination in that one word than she'd heard in her entire life.

"Wh-what are you going to do to me?" Deep down, she already suspected the answer was going to be -

"Make love to you, moon. I am going to make love to you."

"No, no. No!" She dug her heels into the polished ebony floor, bringing them to an abrupt halt. "I refuse. Do you hear me? I refuse!"

Slowly he turned and faced her. He didn't release her hand. His lush lips were firm, his harsh expression etched in stone. "I have been injured," he said, as if she should know why that was important.

She scowled up at him. "I can see that you're injured. I even pointed it out to you. But you should know that you'll sustain more injuries if you try and take me to bed."