Forbidden Craving: The Nymph King / The Beautiful Ashes. Gena Showalter
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“If you enter the portal without me, you’ll die.” The words held an unmistakable edge of fury, his grip tightening on her. “You’ll never be able to swim to the surface alone. Do you understand? You’ll die out there, your body nothing more than fish food.”
She stilled, panting, the blood in her veins chilling. The water...how could she have forgotten the water?
“Is death preferable to my pursuit?” he asked.
“If I’m to be a captive, yes!” She’d fought hard for her independence and would relinquish it to no one.
A heavy pause stretched between them. Valerian radiated both sadness and anger.
Sadness? The pang returned to her chest, and she sputtered with indignation.
“I can’t live aboveground,” he said, “and I don’t want to live without you.”
“That’s ridiculous. You’re ridiculous. I... I...” Had no idea how to respond. “How many human girls have heard those words from your lips?”
Don’t know how to respond, so you go with jealousy? You are ridiculous!
“One. Only one. And I haven’t yet learned her name.”
“Up yours,” she said. He couldn’t mean the things he was saying to her. He just couldn’t. “That’s what you can call me.”
He sighed. He secured her against him, his body an impenetrable force. “Come then, Up Yours, and I’ll show you the palace.”
As he ushered her up a crudely built staircase, she offered no more protests. She needed time to consider her options.
Try to find another way home?
Was there another way?
Make nice with Valerian and enjoy his pampering while it lasted?
Save the dark-haired girl who’d looked as upset by the circumstances as Shaye?
Ding, ding, ding. We have a winner!
Shaye studied the markings on the wall to help her find her way back—just in case. The higher up she traveled, the less jagged the rocks became...until the walls appeared to be dusted with glitter. She brushed her fingertip over the smooth surface, leaving a mark behind. Her own personal bread crumb.
Valerian stopped abruptly, causing her to bump into his back. Fiery, full-body contact. She gasped as he backed her into the wall, his frown fierce, his crystalline eyes gleaming with purpose.
“You wouldn’t happen to be planning your escape, would you?”
She arched a brow. “What do you think?”
“I think your determination matches mine.”
“Is that a compliment or an insult?”
“What do you think?” he asked, mocking her. He brushed the tip of his nose against hers.
An innocent action and yet her bones liquefied.
Dang it! Where’s my armor?
“What if I promise not to try to escape?” she asked. She didn’t plan to try; she planned to succeed.
Another brush of his nose against hers. “I would want to believe you, but still I would doubt you. Trust between us will take time, but it will come. I know this.”
Even as deluded as he was, considering he thought a happily-ever-after—or happily ever until-the-new-wears off—was possible between a captor and his captive, he still understood trust had to be earned.
Ugh. Was she hoping to give herself permission to like him?
Probably. Because, with every second that passed, some of her animosity faded.
I’m a fool!
All right. It was clearly time to do what her therapist had told her never to do: use a snotty attitude to create distance with the people around her.
Cruel to be kind...to myself.
She lifted her chin. “What happens if I want to hook up with one of your men?”
His brow furrowed. “Hook up?”
“You know, get my groove on. Offer myself up on a silver platter. Do the dirty bump and grind.”
Rage exploded inside his eyes. “You will not hook up with one of my men. Ever.”
“Wrong! My body. My choice.”
His nostrils flared as he fought for control and oh, wow, the sight actually...turned her on. He wanted to keep her all to himself.
“You’re mine,” he grated.
“Actually, I’m mine.”
“Fine. I’m willing to share you with you and only you.”
She almost—almost—laughed. “How kind of you,” she muttered.
“Yes. I’m very kind.” He stepped back and offered his hand. “Shall we?”
The distance...displeased her, the most feminine parts of her body actually pouting.
She peered at his blunt-tipped fingers...at the calluses and scars slashed across his palm, a contrast to his otherwise flawless beauty. As strong as he was, he could have killed her at any moment. He could have crushed her and yet he’d been nothing but gentle with her.
Oh, yes. I’m a fool.
She willingly twined her fingers with his—and gasped. A blast of heat slammed into her. Tingles raced over her.
She tried to tug away from him, to sever the connection, but he held tight. He even lifted her knuckles to his lips and kissed.
The heat—a thousand degrees worse.
The tingles—a thousand times stronger.
“You are precious to me,” he said. “The one I’ve been searching for all the days of my life.”
She bit the inside of her cheek, battling the pleasure his declaration had wrought. “Are you saying you...love me?”
“No. Not yet. But I have no doubt love for you will come.”
“How?” No one had ever loved her. “How can you believe that?”
“Every nymph has a fated mate, and you are mine.”
“I don’t understand,” she rasped. “I don’t understand at all.”
“You will. In time.”
The words—a warning?