Читать книгу Forbidden Craving: The Nymph King / The Beautiful Ashes - Gena Showalter - Страница 15
ОглавлениеSHAYE’S HEART THUNDERED in her chest, pounding so hard she feared her ribs would crack; her ears rang loudly, and she covered them with her hands to block out the awful sound. She sank onto the edge of a decadent made-for-sex bed with red silk sheets and a velvet comforter.
Not daring to breathe, she stared at the door.
She remained in that exact position for over an hour, anticipatory. Part of her wanted Valerian to storm inside the room to begin seducing her.
Begin. As if he hadn’t already.
Before she’d left him, his gaze had scorched her. If she’d remained with him, that heat would have burned her alive.
A new card idea had taken root. We should probably have sex before we rush into dating.
She gulped. If any man could tempt her...
No! She wouldn’t be a fool for lust or love or whatever the heck he wanted to call...whatever the heck was going on between them, accepting whatever crap he happened to dish.
She rested her head against the bedpost, which was intricately carved with—what else?—naked females.
So far Valerian had proved to be a man of his word—which meant he would remain guard just outside the door all freaking night.
He would always tell her the truth, huh?
“This is your personal love shack, right? And those three women, you bagged and tagged them?” she called.
A pause. She expected the silence to continue.
Then he said, “Yes.”
Well, well. The truth, even when it hurt. A rarity. A trait she admired greatly and had always hoped to find in someone else.
Maybe I should stay with him? Just for a little while.
Okay, wow. Part of her had to be looking for any reason to stay. Which was the very reason she had to escape tonight. No way she should stick around until morning, when he and the other warrior, Joachim, would fight for ownership of her, as if she were property.
“I’m not a trophy,” she muttered. “I’m not a prize for Valerian and his sex squad to battle to the death over.”
“Yes, Moon, you are.”
The huskiness of his voice gave her a jolt of pure pleasure, making her heart skip a beat and heat coast over her skin.
Trembling now, she jumped to her feet and traversed one of the bridges, careful to avoid the pits. She paced. A large, sunken tub had been filled with bubbling water. Or the water never drained. Tendrils of steam curled to the vaulted crystal ceiling, which showcased the now turbulent ocean above. Waves churned and swirled, leaving wisps of foam behind, no horny mermaids in sight.
Maybe...maybe a night with Valerian could go on her bucket list?
What! What are you doing? Stop! Escape!
Right. She traced a fingertip over the vanity. The rings in the wood actually warmed to her touch, a slight vibration rising up her arm.
An eerie voice suddenly whispered through her mind. Love heals; it doesn’t hurt. Love is the answer, not the problem...
With a gasp, she yanked her arm away, severing contact. What. The. Heck?
“You mentioned...lovers.” Valerian spoke up again, his tone dripping with irritation. “Are they the reason you want to return home?”
Ugh. She’d yelled at him for misleading her, but she’d done the same to him. “I have a business. I have dreams.”
“What’s your business?”
Genuine interest? “I sell anti-cards.” Did Atlanteans celebrate holidays?
“Or, more accurately, I sell sarcasm to people who have stopped romanticizing life.”
A pause, as if he needed a moment to store every bit of info about her. “Give me an example of an anti-card.”
She thought for a moment. “Congratulations on your new job. Before you go, would you mind taking the knife out of my back? You’ll probably need it again.”
He chuckled, surprising her, delighting her—arousing her. Which was so freaking frustrating!
“Now tell me about your dreams,” he said.
A safe topic. One she embraced. “Well, while I was busy drowning, I admitted I’d like to write a book.”
A soft growl. “You were never in danger of drowning. And you can write a book here.”
“I have a feeling just do it here will be your answer to everything,” she told him dryly.
“Yes, I’m very wise.”
She had to cut off a laugh.
Twice, she realized. Twice he’d amused her—the moody, broody cold fish—in a way no one else ever had.
“I notice you mention nothing of your family,” he said, his tone now careful. “Not your mother and her new husband. Not your father.”
“We’ve never been close,” she admitted.
Love heals; it doesn’t hurt.
Argh! Those words!
“Their loss,” he said.
Love is the answer, not the problem.
“I...thank you?”
Another pause stretched between them. “I’ll be your family,” he said, and she could picture him banging his chest with his fists. “It will be my honor and my privilege.”
She rolled her eyes. “See! Told you just do it here would be your answer to everything.”
Let’s say she agreed to date Valerian. Would she ever be able to trust him? Was he capable of being faithful?
Shaye despised sharing. She’d shared her parents with their ever-changing lovers. She’d shared her childhood and her toys with stepsisters and stepbrothers.
If ever she gave herself to someone, it would be to a man who wanted her and only her. A man willing to give up his life just to make her happy. And she, in turn, would do the same for him.
Was she asking and offering too much? Maybe. But it was what she wanted, and she wouldn’t settle for less—even though she knew it was an impossibility. Perhaps that was why she wanted it in the first place. If she couldn’t really have it, she never had to worry about heartbreak.
Valerian talked a good talk, and granted, he could probably walk a delectable, mind-shattering walk all over her body, but how long would his affections last?
“As my queen,” he said, “you’ll be wealthy beyond imagining.”
“So. You think you can buy me?”
“I wish I could buy you,” he grumbled.
She wanted to laugh again. What is wrong with me?
She valued her independence and being with a nymph—the nymph, actually—would strip that independence away layer by precious layer. How many times had she seen her father’s girlfriends change their personality to fit him? Countless! Shaye refused, absolutely refused, to allow the same fate to befall her.
And yet, she told Valerian, “As long as I’m a prisoner, you won’t be a viable date for me.” As if there could ever be hope for more.
“No. I refuse to believe that. One day you’ll forgive me. And our children will love the story of our meeting.”
She nearly choked on her tongue. Children?
“Tell me a secret,” he said. To distract her?
Her shock must have loosened her tongue, because she admitted, “I like the color pink. Which is borderline humiliating! Pink equals girlie. A frilly princess.”
“And you don’t want to be a girlie princess because...”
“I’m tough, as hard as nails?” A question? Really? She hurried to remove the focus from her. “What about you? Tell me a secret.”
“One moment, Shaye,” he said, then muttered something she couldn’t discern.
Her brow furrowed with confusion until a male replied, “Yes, Majesty.” Footsteps rang out.
“All right. We’re alone again,” he told her.
Her first thought? Good! He’s mine, all mine.
I need help.
“As a boy,” he said, “I liked to nap in fields of lavender.”
“Because being so beautiful was exhausting?”
“You think I’m beautiful?” How happy he sounded.
“You know you are.”
“More beautiful than Joachim?”
Not going to travel that road. “Good night, Valerian.”
He sighed. “Sleep well, Shaye. I’ll protect you.”
In that, she believed him. An odd but undeniable fact.
She searched the rest of the room but found no other doorway. Disheartened—yes, that had to be it—she dug through the closet. A few feminine garments were mixed in with the array of masculine shirts and leathers. From past lovers?
Probably. Not that she cared.
Really!
Almost defiantly, Shaye selected a black T-shirt and a pair of pants she had to roll at the ankles. More comfortable, she moved to the window and parted the violet curtains.
Her eyes widened. Oh, wow. Thick, dew-kissed trees—some as bright as emeralds, others as white as snow—circled the landscape. Clear waterfalls spilled into pristine rivers while rainbow-colored birds soared overhead.
Absolutely magnificent.
In the heart of it all was a crowded city pulsing with life. Buildings of stone and wood created a maze of winding streets. Fading streaks of light emanated from the dome above, twilight giving way to night.
The crystal dome also acted as the sun, she realized.
She would have loved to visit the city, to stand in the midst of such spectacular beauty and bask.
“This has to be close to heaven,” she breathed.
“We call it the Outer City,” Valerian replied.
“A boring name for a specular paradise.” Her gaze swept over the cliffs; she spotted bull-faced men with horns sprouting from their heads, beautiful women with horse bodies—centaurs?—and lions with wings.
“There was no need to travel to my world, Valerian,” she said. “Your perfect mate was here all along.”
“Only you would do, Moon.”
Her stomach tightened. “Annnd that’s the end of our conversation.” Shaky legs returned her to the bed, where she eased onto the mattress.
“I’d like to bargain with you,” Valerian said. “Let’s negotiate.”
Her brand-new heart arrhythmia acted up again. “What are you offering, exactly?”
“I’ll be silent for the rest of the night...if you give me a compliment. A real one.”
Dangerous territory. She would have to consider all the wonderful things about him and most assuredly, she’d begin to melt. Diabolical man.
If she were home, she would be alone right now. And lonely, her mind piped up.
Lonely was safe. Lonely was familiar.
A hot ache squeezed at her chest.
“Why are you doing this to me, Valerian? You could have any of the other women. Someone who would eagerly come to you...who would do anything you asked of them.”
“They aren’t you.”
A simple sentence, yes, but it rocked her to the core. “What’s so special about me? I defy you to name one thing.”
Silence stretched between them, and it both elated and defeated her.
How stupid could I be? She’d actually craved praise from him. “You seriously need this much time to think about it?”
“You asked for one thing. I’m having trouble deciding which one to mention.”
Her anger deflated. This man...oh, this man.
“How about I tell you three things?” he asked.
“Sure,” she managed to croak.
“Your scent is so incredibly sweet, I could pick you out of a crowd of thousands, even if I were blindfolded. You remind me of a rose—there are thorns, but beneath them, your soul is as soft as silk. You fascinate me. You are brave, but vulnerable. Kind but selective. Jaded yet hopeful.”
She reeled. No one—not her mother, father, stepbrothers or stepsisters, or an endless string of nannies—had ever made her feel so important, so necessary, with only a few softly spoken words.
She barely knew Valerian. In their short time together, she’d railed at him, desired him, cursed him and attacked him. Now she wanted to storm out of the bedroom and throw herself into his arms. To be the brave girl he considered her to be, to destroy every wall she’d ever built and melt every piece of ice surrounding her heart.
This. This was the danger of the nymph, she realized. Not the beauty or the physical strength. Not even the pheromone Valerian had mentioned.
This. The belief that you were special. That you would be different from every other woman seduced and discarded. That a happily-ever-after wasn’t just possible but imminent.
How was she supposed to resist him?
