Atlantis Series Complete Collection

by Gena Showalter

  Next Valerian pictured Shaye. She wanted him to believe her arctic and untouchable. No, she wanted to be arctic and untouchable. Poor darling would never get her wish. Too much passion burned inside her.

  “Perhaps our women have secrets—sad, painful secrets—allowing them to fortify themselves against us,” he said.

  Actually, he knew Shaye had secrets. Unlocking them became an obsession. A necessity, like breathing. No, a necessity greater than breathing. Like sex.

  Shivawn jerked a hand through his dark hair, the beads at the ends clanging together. “I’ll try to unearth Brenna’s secrets. Maybe then she’ll accept me.” He paused, his head canting to the side. “How do you unearth a woman’s secrets?”

  “Hard work?”

  “Hard work,” Shivawn echoed. “Where’s the fun in that?”

  Valerian believed he would have a lot of fun. Already anticipation fizzed in his veins. Learning more about Shaye? Yes, yes, a thousand times yes.

  “Females,” Shivawn grumbled.

  “Females,” Valerian agreed with a grin.

  They clinked their flasks and drank deeply.

  A soldier rushed into the room. “My king. A dragon army marches toward the fortress.”

  Valerian jumped up—and swayed. He cursed the dragons, and he cursed himself. He shouldn’t have drunk so much. He should have stayed ready for action.

  Well, no help for it now. He would have to fight. He would protect Shaye, whatever the cost.

  * * *

  A WEEK PASSED. Shaye spent a lot of time in Valerian’s room, alone. For a man who’d professed his desire to be with her, he’d certainly seemed to enjoy his time away from her.

  Typical!

  Often she’d found herself wondering where he was, what he was doing—who he was doing.

  Had he decided to be with another woman?

  She wasn’t worried. Or obsessed. She wasn’t! She’d told him how silly the mates-for-life thing was; maybe he’d decided to believe her.

  Her nails cut into her palms as she plopped in front of the vanity.

  Love heals; it doesn’t hurt. Love is the answer, not the problem.

  The voice drifted through her mind, and she sat up straight, her brow knitting with confusion. She’d heard that voice before. She’d heard those words before.

  Heart racing, she stood. One second, two. Her mind remained her own.

  Her imagination? Magic?

  Chewing on her bottom lip, she eased into the cushioned chair.

  Love heals; it doesn’t hurt. Love is the answer, not the problem.

  Argh! There it was again.

  This time, she stayed put. “Is someone here?” she whispered. Like, someone trapped inside the mirror, maybe? Here in Atlantis, anything was possible.

  “I can’t love him,” she said. “I don’t know him.”

  And she couldn’t get to know him if he wouldn’t freaking come around her!

  Love heals; it doesn’t hurt. Love is the answer, not the problem.

  Enough! “Screw you,” she muttered, stalking away.

  All she’d done these past seven days was think about Valerian, bathe in the pool, think about Valerian, try on the array of pink gowns he’d bought her—she wore one even now—think about Valerian, sleep, dream of Valerian, and spend time with Brenna and the other women. At least once a day, a guard had come to escort her to a hobby room. Oh, and she’d thought about Valerian.

  She suspected she…missed him.

  Why had he stayed away?

  Buck up! Did the reason really matter?

  She was done waiting around. Done feeling like a discarded piece of garbage. Today—through fair means or foul—she would be going home.

  Major pat on the back for refusing to give herself to Valerian after his fight with Joachim, gifting him with her trust and virginity. If she had and he’d still ignored her, perhaps choosing to be with someone else, she would have regretted her actions every day for the rest of her miserable life.

  She had enough regrets, thanks.

  “Come, Moon.”

  Every muscle and cell in Shaye’s body jolted in reaction to that voice. His voice. Her heart fell out of rhythm as her gaze found him—the man who’d tormented her with his absence.

  He stood in the doorway, the very picture of masculinity and dirty sex, despite the new lines around his eyes and the hollows in his checks. He wore black pants, and miracle of miracles a black shirt covered his spectacular chest. His dark blond hair gave new meaning to sexy disarray, the locks endearingly windblown.

  “Where have you been?” she snapped. Then she blushed. Stay cool. Reveal nothing.

  He glowered. “A dragon army arrived in the Outer City. I had to send them back to their king.”

  So…he hadn’t been with another woman. Relief washed through her because—just because! “You should have told me.”

  He scrubbed his free hand down his tired face. “Mates pleasure their men before sending them off to war. I refused to pressure you for such a gift.”

  Balloon pop. What remained of her anger deflated.

  “Come,” he repeated. There was no hint of emotion in his tone. He held out his hand and waved his fingers.

  “Why?” She rubbed her arms. “Where are you taking me?” Home?

  The thought panicked her when it should have delighted her.

  He’s screwing with my head!

  “Today I’m your escort. It’s time to visit with the other women.” He again motioned with his fingers.

  Why was he so unlike his usual self? Had he given up on her, as she’d suspected?

  “Were you harmed during battle?” she asked, remaining in place.

  “No.”

  “You won?”

  “Of course.”

  Finally. Emotion. He glared at her with irritation for doubting his ability. “Yeah,” she said in an attempt to assuage his masculine pride. “You probably sent those pesky dragons running home, crying for their mommies.”

  He blinked at her—confused?

  Well. Confusion was better than the irritation. My job here is done. “All right. Let’s go.” She walked over and clasped his proffered hand.

  Instant currents of electricity! Tingles raced up her arm and heat pooled in her shoulder before zooming through the rest of her, igniting sparks of arousal.

  In second, he’d reduced her to a puddle of heat and hormones.

  He tugged her through the hallway. If contact had affected him, he gave no notice.

  The jerk! “What are you doing today?”

  “Training with my men.”

  He said no more.

  “What’s wrong with you, Valerian? You’re like a pod-person right now.”

  “I have no idea what a pod-person is.” He released a heavy sigh. “Word of our mating has spread faster than I intended. The horde of dragons came here hoping to take you away from me. To use you against me.”

  Her mouth dried. “And?”

  “And I promised you I would protect you. I will. Aways. But I knew you would use the information to rally your cause and return home.”

  I should. I really should.

  And she suspected he would hear her this time, and might even return her—the real crux of his fear. He didn’t want to.

  “How did you maintain your strength?” she asked, doing her best not to melt against him.

  Oh, crap. That’s right! Without sex, nymphs weakened. He needed physical intimacy to live, but the only thing she’d given him was grief.

  “I took matters into my own hands,” he said, every word stilted.

  Oh. Ohhh. Heat burned her cheeks.

  “This pleases you?” he asked, a brow lifted.

  Yes! No. Maybe. “I’m going to plead the fifth,” she said.

  The corner of his mouth twitched. “I asked another human what that means. You don’t wish to incriminate yourself with your answer.”

  Her cheeks burned hotter.

  Thankfully they reached the l
uxurious room where the lovesick, sex-crazed females from her mother’s wedding were already gathered, saving her from having to think up a reply.

  As usual, several men stood guard at the entrance. One guy held a bundle of paper, a feather and an inkwell.

  Valerian scooped up the items and handed them to her. “I thought you would enjoy writing your anti-cards or starting your novel.”

  Her mouth fell open. He was giving her another gift? But…but…

  “Thank you,” she said softly, clutching the bundle to her chest. He could have gone the easy route and given her flowers and candy. Instead, he’d searched for something specific to her.

  How am I not throwing myself at him right this very second?

  “My pleasure,” he said, his voice rough and raspy.

  Licking her lips, she stepped toward him.

  He stepped back. “I must go.”

  No! Stay! Their eyes met, and she had to fight the urge to rise on tiptoes, breathe in his scent and absorb his strength.

  Kiss me, she silently beseeched, hating herself—hating him. Help me figure out my next move.

  In the end, he turned and walked away, leaving her wanting more. So much more.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “I’VE NEVER, IN ALL my life, been pleasured like I was last night.”

  “Me, either.”

  “Uh, we know! Your screams were almost as loud as mine.”

  And so it began. The women had the same conversation every day.

  The room hadn’t changed, either. There were two couches, a thousand silk pillows, a table with snacks and bottles of wine, books and baskets containing needles and thread. This wasn’t just a hobby room. This was a keep-the-women-busywhile-the-man- do-important-work room.

  Already the other captives had formed groups. Or rather, dreaded cliques. Smiles and laughter abounded, and though many girls waved at her, no one asked her to join a conversation. All because she’d become known as the troublemaker.

  But come on! This was a modern day harem, a concubine taken out only when her master had need of her body.

  So. Decision made, no take-backs. I’m going home today, as planned.

  No more lingering. No more hoping to learn more about Valerian…or dreaming about kissing him. She stomped her foot. No more!

  “Ladies.” She clapped her hands to gain everyone’s attention. “I know you’ve had fun here. The men can be…distracting. But our vacation is over. It’s time for us to return to the good ole United States of America. We have families mourning our loss.”

  Everyone ignored her.

  Frustrated but determined, she continued. “There are enough of us to overtake the guards. We can bust free and beat feet to the portal.”

  So many gasps of outrage sounded, they could have been background music to a song.

  “My family would want me to be happy. I’m happy here.”

  “I’m not leaving,” someone else said. “I’ve waited my whole life to a meet man like Rueben.”

  “If you try to run, I’ll scream for help. I’m not going to let you ruin this for us.”

  Shaye gripped the sides of her gown, nearly ripping the fabric as her frustration pummeled her determination. “That’s how we settle our problems now? We tattle? Why do you want to stay here, anyway?” She said the words for her benefit, as well. “We’re nothing but T and A to these guys. One day, they’ll meet their mates and cut you loose.”

  “The poor girl’s repressed, y’all. She’s got lady blue balls, and it’s made her daft. Let’s offer support.”

  Almost everyone gathered around her, concern darkening every gaze. I’m part of a cult. Or at the center of an intervention.

  For the next hour, she endured major TMI as the women told her their preferred sexual positions. If she tried this or that, they said, her mood would finally improve.

  She countered with a speech about being worth more than temporary pleasure. And that’s all the nymphos could offer to anyone other than a mate.

  In fact, she was the only mate here.

  And yet I’m the one who wants to leave?

  Eventually, the crowd grew tired of listening to her and called for the guards…summoned Valerian.

  Her insides quivered. She paced. If there’d been a clock, she would have watched the hand mark the seconds. How long would Valerian make her wait for—

  He strode into the room without preamble, shirtless once again, sweat and dirt smeared over his muscled chest. Her adrenaline levels spiked.

  Silent, he homed in on her like a heat-seeking missile. She stood, dumbfounded, as he wrapped her in his arms and—

  Made dirty, filthy love to her mouth.

  The kiss had nothing to do with exploration and everything to do with persuasion. But it ended far too quickly, his tongue thrusting inside her mouth once, twice, staking a claim…just long enough to remind her of his taste, consume her senses and drive her crazy.

  He lifted his head, leaving her wanting and desperate. Her lips tingled as she struggled to catch her breath.

  Women had closed in on them…and they were now running their fingertips all over him.

  Mine! Shaye scowled at the offenders.

  What am I doing?

  Control! “What was that for?” she asked, hating the tremor in her voice.

  He brushed his fingers over her cheekbones. “Rather than wallowing in the fear of losing you, I’m striving to romance you.”

  Sweet fancy roses. If he hadn’t started romancing her until now… I’m in serious trouble.

  “Over the years I’ve learned that what you fear, you welcome into your life,” he added. “Like a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

  She gulped. Was that what she had done to herself? Feared the collapse of her relationships so much, everything she said and did ensured the collapse happened?

  “Be good,” he told her, “and I’ll take you into the Outer City when I finish training my men.”

  “Be good?” She bristled. “I’m not a child, and you are not my parent.”

  “Maybe not.” He bent to run the lobe of her ear between his teeth. “But I spank.”

  I’m melting into him. I’m actually melting. She straightened with a jolt, snapping, “Well, I bite.”

  He grinned. “I look forward to having your teeth all over my body, Moon.”

  He left her then, while she reeled.

  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.

  If she managed an escape, could she really leave these women behind? No! She might have to trick them into going with her. But how?

  She racked her brain but the answer eluded her. Feeling as if she were about to give herself an aneurism, she used her new supplies to make anti-cards. Her version of therapy.

  Card one, attempt one: Benefits of dating me? You will be dating me. Enough said.

  Yes? No? Too cocky? The nympho attitude must have rubbed off on her. She ran a line of ink through the words.

  Card one, attempt two: Let me say this in a way you’ll understand—I think your hot.

  Would half the population fail to recognize the grammatical error?

  She crumbled the paper.

  Card one, attempt three: Roses are red, violets are blue. Nymphs.

  That one certainly fit everyone in the room, so… Done!

  Card two, attempt one: You don’t always cheat, but—just kidding! You do. You always cheat.

  Or what about: You’re cheating? Good news! I am, too!

  Oookay. Two cheating cards in a matter of seconds. Had to be a record.

  Card three, attempt one: Some men aren’t so bad. I guess.

  Ugh. What had Valerian done to her?

  “I’m so jealous you were chosen by Valerian, king of the beefcakes.” A brunette sat next to her. “Is he as good in bed as he looks?”

  Silence descended over the room. Every eye focused on her.


  “He even fought over you.” The brunette sighed dreamily. “How romantic is that? Oh! I’m Jaclyn, by the way.”

  “I’m Soshanna,” said an elegant black woman. “I’ve decided to keep Aeson. He takes orders very well.”

  “I’m Barrie,” said a plain brunette.

  “Martina,” said the plump brunette who’d wanted to fight her for standing too close to Broderick. Not to mention the one who’d summoned the guard for attempting to plan an escape. Now she acted as if Shaye were an old friend.

  Jaclyn had to be the ringleader, then. Everyone else followed her lead, introducing themselves. Though most of them had been wedding guests and friends of her mother’s—or maybe the new husband’s—and though they’d spent the last week together, everyone had been too blissed-out to think of anything but sex.

  Maybe humans could build immunity against the nympho pheromone?

  “Aren’t we the luckiest girls in the world?” Jaclyn said.

  Several squeals of delighted agreement erupted.

  “Well, is Valerian good?” Barrie asked eagerly. “If he walks like a wet dream and talks like a wet dream…”

  “I’m sure he is,” Shaye muttered.

  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. Other women shouldn’t be wondering about Valerian naked. He’s taken and I will cut you!

  Excited twitters rang out.

  “You mean you don’t know? You haven’t slept with him?”

  “What! You would have had to resist him. How could you resist him?”

  “Nymphs need sex. You’re going to kill him. Give him to me!”

  Shaye’s nails dug into her knees. She should be happy someone else wanted him. She should play matchmaker.

  Valerian, meet the new object of your obsession.

  A little voice inside her said, Mine. Only mine.

  A sense of greediness held her in a vise-grip.

  Barrie and the others soon got tired of awaiting her answer. Actually they forgot about Shaye entirely, planning ways to ensure Valerian “survived.”

  Whatever. 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.