tempted her, and just because she’d encased her heart in icy armor, well, that didn’t mean her mind had never fantasized and her body had never ached. She’d ached. Oh, she’d ached.
“No longer,” Valerian grated. “You’re mine.”
A new card took shape. I love watching you sleep...through the crack in your bedroom curtains.
“Are you familiar with the term stalker?” she asked.
“Stalk. Noun. The stem of a herbaceous plant. To stalk. Verb. To pursue or approach stealthily. Therefore stalker must be...one who pursues stealthily.”
Smart man. “One who pursues someone who doesn’t want to be pursued.”
A sharp inhalation. “I’m not stalking you.”
“Whatever you have to tell yourself, buddy.”
The ceremony continued for another half hour. Only one other woman appeared upset by the proceedings—the same one who’d been unwilling to blithely walk into the water.
She was a tiny thing and very pretty, with dark, curly hair, wide, dark eyes and a button nose. Of Spanish heritage, maybe. Despite her innocent, schoolgirl features, she radiated a wild sensuality that had intrigued many of the nymphos. They’d passed her over, however, because she’d trembled with fear rather than eagerness.
But pickings were becoming slim, and a tall warrior with beads in his sandy-colored hair eventually selected her. One of the men still waiting for his turn slammed his fist into the wall, the force of the blow reverberating through the entire room.
“Choose another. I want that one,” he bellowed.
“Too bad for you, Joachim,” was the smug reply. “She’s mine now.” Beaded Hair clasped the girl’s hand and tugged her from the line.
Her tremors worsened, and she dragged her heels, but she never uttered a word in protest.
Obviously puzzled by her lack of enthusiasm, her would-be lover glanced over his shoulder and frowned. “Do not be afraid, little one. I won’t hurt you.”
She chewed on her bottom lip, tears in her eyes.
“Valerian,” Shaye said, “you told me no one would be harmed. Well, she’s being harmed. Stop him.”
“Shivawn isn’t striking her, and he won’t. He’ll feed and care for her. He’ll—”
“Listen to me. She doesn’t want food, and she certainly doesn’t want to be alone with him.” Unwilling to wait for Valerian’s response, Shaye shouted, “Let her go! Now! You might have picked her, but she doesn’t pick you.”
Shivawn’s frown deepened. “But... I’ll be good to you.”
Her frightened, watery gaze landed on Shaye, and she chewed on her bottom lip. Still she didn’t speak a word.
“Valerian.” Shaye latched on to his wrist and squeezed. “You have to do something about this. Please.”
Seconds passed in absolute silence, everyone in the room waiting for the king’s decree.
Shaye wrenched away from him to rush to the girl—who she then freed from Shivawn’s grip. She stepped between the pair, her gaze searching for...she wasn’t sure.
“I know you want to go home,” she said. “I’ll find a way, I swear it.” Will never give up. “But until then, how do you want to handle this situation?”
Silence. The Spanish girl even looked away from her, as if she couldn’t bear to be the object of anyone’s scrutiny.
“Obviously she doesn’t want anything to do with you, either.” Shivawn clasped Shaye’s wrist, clearly intending to move her out of the way.
Her self-defense training kicked in, and she pivoted, grabbing hold of his wrist and dropping to the floor, her weight and momentum dragging him down with her. Upon impact, she thrust out her legs, nailing him in the chest and causing him to flip over her head.
He remained on his back, staring up at the crystal ceiling. Held immobile by shock?
Other warriors gaped.
Valerian raced to her side to pull her to her feet. He focused on the other woman. “Do you wish to be chosen by another warrior? Do you wish to be given a room of your own? I’ll ensure you are undisturbed.”
Her eyes roved over the remaining, eager men. She shrank back, gulped, then slowly shook her head.
No to Shivawn? Or no to the room? Or both?
“You may take her to your chamber, Shivawn, but you are not to touch her tonight. If one of the humans I...met...yesterday is interested in...meeting you, you may...meet her in a guest room.”
Why the hesitation? Did met, meeting and meet actually mean screwed, screwing and screw?
“Why don’t you take her home instead?” Shaye asked as Shivawn stood.
“Do you wish to go home?” Valerian asked the other woman.
Again, the girl shrank back and shook her head no.
Shaye didn’t understand. “Do you want to go with Shivawn?”
A nearly imperceptible nod, but a nod all the same.
She glared at Valerian. “Can Shivawn be trusted to obey your command?”
“All my men can be trusted to obey me. More than that, they aren’t rapists.” There was a good amount of affront in his tone. “Go,” he told the couple.
Shivawn and the girl hurried out of the room.
The man who’d hit the wall punched the guy next to him.
“Happy?” Valerian asked as he escorted Shaye back to the line.
“No!”
Of course, the “selection” continued.
This time, none of the soldiers approached her. Perhaps because she’d proved too much trouble for zero reward.
The line dwindled significantly.
“It’s almost over,” Valerian whispered. His breath fanned her ear, and he trailed a fingertip along the bumps of her spine. A caress to arouse...or a gesture of comfort?
Did it matter? Either way, she almost slumped into a boneless heap. So good! Only the sudden, unexpected feeling of being watched strengthened her resolve to appear unaffected. Her eyes darted across the remaining men—and collided with hate.
Every fiber of her being recoiled.
“Lean on me if your feet hurt,” Valerian said, mistaking her reaction.
“No, thank you.” Leaning on another—relying on another—would never appeal to her. Even though the idea of being enveloped by his heat and strength
