Forbidden Craving: The Nymph King / The Beautiful Ashes. Gena Showalter

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Forbidden Craving: The Nymph King / The Beautiful Ashes - Gena Showalter

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FIVE

      “I’VE GOT YOU, MOON.”

      Strong arms lifted Shaye, and she gratefully buried her face in the hollow of Valerian’s neck. In that moment, she no longer cared what the warrior was doing to her; she was just happy he was with her. She even wound her legs around his hips to prevent any kind of separation.

      I’m safe?

      “Don’t you dare let me go,” she cried.

      His hold tightened. “I will never let you go.”

      The vehement tone should have frightened her, but oddly enough she felt comforted instead.

      Maybe because he clung to her as if she were a treasure. As if she were someone special. As if he’d waited his whole life to meet her and now couldn’t imagine living without her.

      A deception, she knew. But that was okay. For now, that was okay.

      “Take a moment to breathe.” He petted his fingers down her spine. “Breathe for me. I don’t feel your chest moving.”

      Right. In, out. Air filled and exited her lungs. In, out. Surprisingly, she did calm. The scent of salt and Valerian’s particular brand of black magic teased her nostrils. His heart beat against hers. His hard strength welcomed her soft femininity.

      Valerian set her on her feet and framed her jaw with his big, callused hands. “You are pale,” he said, a hint of concern in his voice.

      “I’m always pale,” she muttered.

      She forced her gaze to abandon the stunning beauty of his chiseled features in favor of studying her new surroundings.

      They’d somehow entered a cave. The walls were rough and rocky, silver stones painted with streaks of crimson. Blood?

      She swallowed the barbed lump growing in her throat. A metallic tang layered the cold, cold air, and that cold, cold air continued to stroke her nearly bare body, chasing away Valerian’s delicious warmth, making her shiver.

      A shuffle of footsteps sounded behind her.

      Gasping, she looked over her shoulder. Tendrils of mist curled toward a domed ceiling as, one by one, warriors walked from a clear, jellylike whirlpool identical to the one she’d seen under water. The women still followed, but they were no longer smiling.

      “Where are we?” she asked Valerian.

      A pause. “Look at me, Moon. Please.”

      The nickname made no sense to her, and yet it somehow delighted her—the only reason she obeyed him.

      The rest of the world vanished as her gaze traveled from his booted feet to his muscled legs, skipping over the ridge between his legs to stop on his chest—where rope after rope of bronzed masculinity awaited. Droplets of water trickled over perfect male nipples—even through the silver piercing—and pooled in his navel.

      How could one person be so...delicious?

      He had perfect sandy brows, perfect crystalline eyes framed with spiky black lashes and a perfect nose. His lips were plump and pink—and perfect.

      Confidence clung to him like a second skin, making him the most sensually erotic creature she’d ever seen. Even better—or worse!—he radiated primal ferocity.

      “We are home.” Gently, so gently, he traced his fingertips over her face to wipe away the water.

      She stood completely still, not encouraging him but not rebuking him, either. His touch reverberated through her like a live wire, hot and scorching.

      “This isn’t my home,” she said. “I live in Cincinnati.”

      “You used to live in Cincinnati. Now you live with me in Atlantis, the capital of the gods’ finest creations. Home to nymphs, vampires, Amazons and many other races.”

      Wait. Wait, wait, wait. She blinked rapidly as her mind attempted to make sense of his words. Atlantis...the city buried under the ocean? Like the ocean she’d just exited? Her mouth went dry. No way. Just no way.

      “Home of nymphos and vampires? You’re lying,” she grated. “Why are you lying?”

      He frowned at her. “I told you. I’ll never lie to you. And I’m a nymph. Nymph.”

      “Well, guess what? You’re my abductor, so I’ll never believe you.”

      His frown deepened. “Do you have another explanation for entering the sea and appearing here?”

      “Yes. I drowned,” she told him. “You killed me. But someone—a human—found my body and restarted my heart. Only, I’m in a coma and my brain is short-circuiting.”

      The corners of his beautiful mouth twitched. “If that’s true, I’m nothing but a dream. A midnight fantasy. You can enjoy me without fear of the consequences.”

      Dang him. He had an excellent point. “You’re right. I can murder you and avoid jail time.”

      His smile bloomed full force, causing a precious gasp of breath to snag in her lungs. “You and you alone have cart blanche with my body. If you’ll receive pleasure from my pain, then you may hurt me any way you’d like. You can always kiss me better...”

      Did nothing faze him?

      Choose your attitude. “No, thank you,” she muttered. “To everything.”

      “Men,” he called, his penetrating stare never veering from her face. “Escort the women to the dining hall. The ceremony will soon begin.”

      “Ceremony?” she asked.

      With an air of eager anticipation, the warriors leaped into action. One of them tried to grab her arm, but Valerian stopped him with a feral, “I’ll escort this one,” even as she slapped at the offender’s hand.

      “As you wish, my king.”

      King? King!

      Footsteps echoed through the cavern.

      Once again, the women were all smiles, happily trailing their captors.

      “Who do you desire?” one warrior asked another.

      “The redhead. Her breasts are...”

      Their chatter faded.

      A single man remained behind. Or perhaps he’d been waiting in the cave. He wasn’t drenched like everyone else, his white shirt and tight black pants completely dry.

      Valerian released her from his stare to face the remaining warrior. “How are the prisoners?” he asked.

      Prisoners? Her eyes widened, and she clutched at her throat, the barbed lump back in place.

      The man gave a brusque answer in that odd language Valerian had used earlier, but he—the freaking king—shook his head. “Speak in the human tongue.”

      “Alive,”

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