The Nymph King (Atlantis #3)(54)

Shaye scowled at them.

"Be good," he said, "and I will take you into the Outer City when I finish training." With that he left.

Oh, unfair, she thought, to issue such a promise.

Disappointed sighs filled the room. Trying to slow her erratic heartbeat and cool her heated skin, Shaye found an open corner and plopped onto a pillow. She couldn't help it; she really wanted to see the Outer City in person. The single glance she'd had wasn't nearly enough. From the moment she'd first spied it, she'd wanted to breathe its air and absorb its ambiance.

She would escape tomorrow.

I'm not relieved about this. I'm not happy to spend more time with Valerian. To distract herself, she used her new supplies to make anti-cards. Making the cards had always been a big stress reliever for her, and if she'd ever needed to de-stress, it was now. She already had a few good ones in mind.

"As the days go by, I'm so happy you're not here to ruin them for me."

"You want a piece of me? Oops, sorry. I already gave one to your brother."

A third card popped into her head, and it was so unlike the others that she blinked in surprise. "Some men aren't so bad. I guess."

Before she could ponder it, someone said, "I'm so jealous that you were chosen by Valerian, the hulking blond beefcake." In that moment all eyes focused on Shaye. "Was he as good as he looks?"

"He even fought over you." Another sighed dreamily. "How romantic is that? I'm Jaclyn, by the way."

"I'm Shelly," said an elegant, almost regal blonde. "I belong to Aeson."

"I'm Barrie," said a plain, soft-spoken brunette.

"Rissa," said the redhead who'd wanted to fight her for getting too close to Broderick. Now she appeared jovial, even affectionate.

On and on they introduced themselves. Though they'd been wedding guests and friends of her mother's - or maybe the new husband's - Shaye hadn't really met them until now. "Aren't we the luckiest girls in the world?" Jaclyn said.

Several squeals of delighted agreement erupted.

"Well, was Valerian good?" Barrie asked eagerly. "If he walks like a wet dream and talks like a wet dream... I bet the king f*cks like an animal."

Shaye bet he did, too.

And she didn't like this woman wondering about Valerian, perhaps picturing him naked. A sense of possessiveness rose up inside her, hot and angry. It was a nail-baring, teeth-snarling possessiveness that surprised her with its undeniable force.

You don't want him, remember? You held him off with a sword. You had your chance with him and didn't take it, so let him go. She should be happy someone else wanted him. She should encourage Barrie to find out for herself if Valerian did indeed f*ck like an animal.

She didn't, though.

She couldn't.

Something inside her, a greediness she hadn't known she possessed, said, Mine. Only mine. She hated the feeling, but there it was. It refused to leave.

Barrie and the others soon got tired of awaiting her answer. Actually they forgot about Shaye entirely, and resumed their conversation about their lovers as if it had never been interrupted.

Shaye stretched her legs and propped her feet on top of a pillow. Frustration - for so many different reasons - ate at her. Sexual frustration? Yes. Confusion? Definitely. Sighing, she gripped her notebook and stones to her chest. She didn't want to become one of these lovesick women. Didn't want to lose herself in a man.

And that's what would happen if she gave in to Valerian. Foolishly, that seemed to matter less and less.

A short while later, different warriors began to straggle into the room, collecting their women. They were covered in sweat and sand, even blood. Each time the curtain lifted, she found herself tensing with dread and anticipation. Would it be Valerian?

It never was.

Soon there were only a few females remaining. One was the girl with curly black hair and sad brown eyes, the one who had struggled on the beach and, like Shaye, hadn't wanted to be chosen by a warrior. Shaye watched her for a moment, then gathered her supplies, stood and walked to her.

Normally Shaye didn't approach strangers and strike up conversations. That totally negated her "remain detached" preference. But there was something vulnerable about this girl. Something almost... haunting. She found herself drawn to her, found herself sympathizing with her obvious unhappiness.

"Hi. I'm, uh, Shaye." God, she felt awkward. Without an invite, she sat.

The girl flicked her a nervous glance. "Brenna," she said. Her voice was deep, rough, halting and strained. A smoker?

"I've noticed that you're the only other person who isn't ecstatic to be here. Were you... did the one who picked you... "

Brenna shook her head.

"Good." Shaye sighed with relief. Just in front of her, there was a table piled with food. She leaned over, swiped a handful of bread squares, then handed a few to Brenna. They ate in silence for a bit. "I, uh, also noticed you said you were a healer and that you were put in charge of Joachim's care."

A nod - this one hesitant.

"How's he doing? Will he live?"

Another nod - this one sure. And, Shaye saw, there was a gleam of something... hot in the girl's brown eyes. Oh, oh, oh. What was this? Did Brenna have a crush on her patient? "You like him?" she asked.