She flicked a piece of lint off her shirt. "I don't like the fact that you are a male whore, Valerian."
"I am sorry that I do not come to you pure." Nymphs never saved themselves for their mates; they were too sexual, their needs too great. But now he wished to the gods that he'd waited for her. "Perhaps every other woman was merely practice for the day I met you."
She swallowed, bit her lip. Her nipples hardened beneath the shirt, and she could no longer pretend boredom. "That's, like, the corniest line I've ever heard."
"It is true nonetheless." Blood heated to a sizzle inside his veins. Possessiveness and pride stormed him as surely as his army stormed castles. No man had ever sneaked past this woman's cool facade to discover the passion underneath, but he was close. So close to victory. I will give her so much pleasure she will scream with it.
He crawled the rest of the way up her body, placing them nose to nose. "Was I right? Is that why you have denied me? Why you've denied yourself?" he asked, placing the softest of kisses on her lush mouth. "Because you have not known a man?"
Her mouth parted on a gasp—perhaps a sigh. "Don't... don't fool yourself." She ran her tongue over her lips. "I want no part of you. That's why I denied you." Again she sounded breathless. Needy.
"I think you want every part of me."
"You're delusional."
"Or perhaps I'm more perceptive than you are comfortable with."
Her eyes narrowed, hiding the emotion banked in their depths. "Are we going to talk all day or are you going to get this seduction routine over with?"
As she uttered those last words, he reached out and palmed the fullness of her breast. Her eyes closed, her hips arched slightly. A look of divine pleasure blanketed her expression.
"We can get it over with," he said. "But are you sure you want it to end quickly?"
"I... I don't know," she breathed.
"Tell me to leave you right now, and I will. Tell me."
She opened her mouth but said nothing.
"Tell me to leave, Shaye. I will not force you. I will walk away from you."
Again, not a word. Satisfaction speared him. He plucked at her nipple with his fingertips. "Do you hate me when I do this?"
A moan shuddered past her lips. "It feels... it feels terrible."
Gods, he loved seeing her cheeks pinken with arousal. "Just think how much worse it will feel when I suck this hard little morsel into my mouth."
She groaned, a sound so laden with need he responded on a primal level, his muscles clenching, his bones vibrating. When he removed his hand—only for the barest of seconds—her groan became a growl. He slid his fingers under her shirt, gliding over the smooth skin of her stomach, surely the softest, sweetest flesh he'd ever encountered.
Her features clouded with rapture, and she trembled.
"Does this make you shudder in revulsion?" he asked, strained. His fingertip brushed the underside of her breast.
"Utterly," she gasped.
"Me, too. Oh, me, too. See, I'm shaking with the force of my disgust."
"It's the... worst thing... ever," she said, panting. I should make him stop, Shaye thought. Should make him stop... in just a... little while. His fingers were white-hot, searing, and everywhere they touched, a fire kindled below the surface of her skin. He sank more deeply into her, making her gasp.
His body was like a live wire, she realized, and then her mind went blank, consumed only with pleasure as his hand closed over her bare breast. Instinctively she parted her legs, a silent invitation for him to pin her completely.
He didn't accept. In fact, he lifted slightly.
She almost cursed him.
With his other hand, he inched up the hem of her shirt. "If I cover you, I'll take you," he explained. "I need to see you first."
"Yes," she said, wondering who this passionate creature was. Not Shaye, surely. She wasn't concerned with either of their pasts, wasn't concerned with what would happen once the loving was finished as she lifted her hips to make it easier for him. His bare erection rubbed against her. Absolute pleasure. Total sensation.
He hissed in a breath, and she did the same. Despite the clothing she still wore, it felt as if he touched the core of her. "Mmm, yes," she said. "I like. No, hate. I hate."
Her stomach tightened, quivered. Unable to stop herself, she did it again, purposefully this time, and caressed herself against his cock. Valerian sucked in another breath. He jerked her top over her head, freeing her breasts for his gaze.
"I have to taste them. Have to have those sweet little beads in my mouth."
Shaye shouldn't let things go any further, but curiosity was getting the better of her. At least, she was calling the unquenchable desire to feel him slide and pump and grind inside her curiosity. To know and understand how people became slaves to their emotions over this one act.
Valerian closed his fingers over her wrist. "What are you thinking about?"
"Passion," she admitted. "Sex."
"Look at me."
She didn't think to disobey. Her gaze jerked to him, and she stilled, amazed by what she saw. He was drinking in the sight of her breasts as if they were the most beautiful things he'd ever beheld. As if her too-pale skin and her average-size breasts topped his Christmas list.
"I am thinking that I have never seen a more wondrous sight. Your loveliness captivates me," he said, his tone reverent.
"But you've been with a thousand women," she reminded him softly. "A thousand times more beautiful than me."
"None are more beautiful than you, love."
"I'm nothing," she insisted. "I'm—"
"Everything." One of his hands cupped her jaw, and his thumb caressed the side of her face. He forced her to look at him, to see him. "I told you that. You are everything to me."
It was too astonishing to believe and yet, it was everything she'd ever wanted to hear. People just didn't say things like that to her. Tears stung her eyes, and she scrubbed them away. She'd always prided herself on her independence, on her lack of need for another's approval. But until this moment, she hadn't realized how incredible approval could actually be. How powerful it could make her feel.
I have to be cold, she reminded herself—how many times would she be forced to issue the reminder to herself? I have to be heartless. But as her gaze slid over Valerian, she couldn't force herself to rebuke him.
He was poised above her, his big, hard body illuminated by a golden glow of light. Muscles bunched, strength and arousal exuded from him in mouthwatering waves. His stomach was ripped and hard. His penis stretched toward her center, so thick, so hard, reaching for her. The heavy weight of his testicles was surrounded by a sprinkling of golden hair.
The sight of him, this god of beauty and sex, made her breathless. "You—" she cleared her throat "—aren't bad-looking, either," she said. She'd never given a man a compliment before; she always shoved them out of her life as quickly as they entered.
His lips twitched. "I am glad you do not find me ugly, for you are everything I've ever needed."
Inch by agonizing inch, he lowered his head. A gasp of anticipation caught in her windpipe. His mouth closed over her nipple, surrounding it with moist heat. When his tongue flicked back and forth against the pearled bud, her hand tangled in his hair, holding his head in place. He kneaded her other breast with his hand, and the double sensation had her hips writhing.
"Did I not promise you it would feel terrible?"
"Awful, just awful. Don't stop." Wait. She'd meant to tell him to stop. Things were getting out of hand.
"You make me feel feverish, as if my very life depends on you." He sucked hard, and she groaned at the pleasure/pain of it, then he licked away the sting and she moaned at the heady bliss. "When a nymph makes love, he becomes completely absorbed in the act, ferocious and bestial. Nothing else matters except his woman."
Need him the way he seems to need you, she thought, yearning, and something cracked inside her. Something crumbled. The last vestiges of
her resistance? Fear? Doubt? They were suddenly gone, replaced by a need to know him, all of him. In that moment he became more important to her than breathing.
Growling, she wrapped her legs around his waist, locked her ankles and jerked him on top of her. All of his weight—blissful. She savored, reveled in the exquisite press of him. Basked in her first true taste of capitulation. No more denying her needs, no more ignoring her secret wants.
"Shaye?" he said, his voice hoarse. He closed his eyes in sweet surrender, his expression entranced, shocked, awed.
"Valerian."
He nipped at her collarbone, licked up and down her neck. His hand worked at the waist of her pants. His fingers glided past them, under her panties, and through her fine tuft of pubic hair.
She nearly screamed as she arched her hips to urge him further.
"Most women think this is the most pleasure-receptive place on their bodies." His fingers pinched her clitoris lightly. He was sweating, trying to go slowly when she wanted him fast.
With that one touch, she almost reached the gates of paradise. So close to climax... so close... "They'd be right," she managed on a pant.
"No, they are wrong." He slid a finger through her damp folds and into the very heat of her. "Small," he said, strained. "Tight. Wonderful."
Had she thought she'd neared paradise before? Not even close. Her feminine walls clamped around him, holding him captive. In and out he moved. Slowly. Sheer torture. She gasped and gasped and gasped.
"Some women think this rhythm is the cause of their desire."
"Are they... wrong, too?" Holy hell, she was on fire. Her cells were traveling through her bloodstream at full speed, scorching everything in their path.
"Oh, yes. They are wrong."
He continued sliding those fingers into her, and her stomach coiled, tensed; her leg muscles quivered around him. Orgasm teetered on the sweet brink of arrival. "Valerian," she beseeched.
"Oh, how I like my name on your lips." His thumb brushed her clitoris.
Her head thrashed from side to side. She burned, so hot, nearing explosion. "Show me the most pleasure-receptive place on a woman's body." She had to come. Had to... would die... soon...
"For a kiss," he said, wanting to bargain even now. "I'll give you the world for a single kiss."
Without hesitation, she meshed her lips into his. The moment his tongue collided with hers, his taste filled her mouth. The exquisite sensations between her legs intensified. She unlocked her ankles, letting her knees fall apart and onto the bed, spreading her wide open for whatever he might do.
Lost in passion, that was Shaye. She was exactly what she'd feared: a slave to it, desperate for it. But she didn't care. The kiss was hard and hot and only became harder and hotter. Tongues battled, teeth clashed. Valerian's fingers continued to pump her, as frantic and insatiable as the kiss.
But then, suddenly, he stopped. Stopped the kiss, stopped the motion of his fingers. Her body throbbed, and a sob nearly burst from her lips.
"What are you doing?" she moaned. She tangled her hands in his hair and tried to force his mouth back to hers. Finally she'd allowed herself to enjoy a man, and he stopped?
"Now I will show you where you are most sensitive, where you will verge on climax every time I touch you."
Hmm. Yes. "Hurry."
Sweat continued to trickle from his temples. The lines of tension around his eyes had deepened, bracketing his features. He, too, needed relief, she realized. Did he ache with an almost unquenchable ferocity like she did? Was he desperate, eager? Did he feel like he would blast past the stars if he didn't touch her again?
His lips brushed her softly, once, twice. "Your taste... it's like no one else's. Like nothing I've ever had. It's addictive. I think I would die without it."
Touch me. Make love to me. "Valerian, I'm glad you like how I taste and everything, but you've got a point to prove here and I'm a little disappointed that I have to remind you of that fact."
He uttered a labored chuckle. "You're right. I just need to look at you a moment longer, just need to savor the sight of you. Very soon I will strip you completely. Very soon I will slide your pants over your legs."
As he spoke, that image filled her mind. She could see very clearly that he was stripping her. He was wrapping his hands around her—
"Ankles," he said. "And I bring your foot to my mouth. I lick—"
—the arch, gliding his tongue slowly. She saw it, saw the pictures, more vivid with every second that passed. His mouth moved up her calf, swirling little hearts over her skin before—
"—biting your inner thigh. You pant and writhe, just like you're doing now, and you grow even wetter for me. So wet. I bring your own hand between your legs and watch you touch yourself. You—"
—circle her own finger over her clitoris, watching him all the while. In her mind, his eyes lowered to half-mast and his hand curled around his cock, moving up and down. He told her how much he wanted her mouth to replace his hand, how much he wanted his mouth to replace hers. Then he kissed her but it—
"—wasn't enough. I crave another taste of you, a more intimate taste, and talking about it won't be enough, either. I lower my head between your legs. Your hands grasp my hair, pulling roughly because you're so far gone with need you aren't able to control your reactions."
She couldn't control her reactions now. By this time, Shaye was writhing insatiably. She still wore her pants, but it actually felt as if phantom hands were working at her, as if a phantom tongue was licking her. She was gasping, her breath hot in her throat.
"Valerian, Valerian," she chanted. "Valerian, please."
"Please what?" His voice was rough, so rough. Husky, so husky.
"Please finish me."
"But I like savoring you."
"Show me the most erotic place on my body, damn it. You won't live to savor me if you don't hurry."
"I'll die of pleasure either way." His voice broke with arousal. He pinched her clitoris again, and she nearly jumped off the bed. The decadent sensations were acute, almost painful. "I'm going to taste you here before I love you," he said. "And when I love you, you're going to know the most pleasure-receptive place on my body."
"Your penis?" she gasped out. She was almost beyond speech. It was too much. He was too much. His words, his actions. His very essence.
"No, my—"
"My king," a voice said urgently.
Valerian stilled. He growled low in his throat, and it was an animal sound. A killing sound.
A moment passed before Shaye realized what was going on. There was a warrior standing at the edge of the bed, his eyes on Valerian, his expression concerned. Losing her passion haze, she screamed and scrambled for the bedcovers. Mortification bombarded her as she covered her bare breasts. Yet still she ached for Valerian.
"Turn around, Broderick," he growled. His teeth bared in a fierce, lethal scowl. "I'm close to killing you already."
Broderick instantly turned.
"Leave us, or I will kill you."
"Dragons," Broderick said. He didn't leave as he'd been commanded. "They are approaching, intent on war."
CHAPTER 20
VALERIAN COULDN'T BELIEVE someone had entered his room without his knowledge. Even when he was caught up in the most animalistic of his desires, his warrior instincts did not diminish.
Not so with Shaye. With her, he concentrated only on the loving. Such a thing had never happened before.
At the moment he battled a fierce torrent of rage and desire. He had Shaye where he'd wanted and needed her for so long, and now he had to leave her. But her safety came before her seduction. Always.
Her safety came before his own pleasure.
Perhaps he was trapped inside a nightmare, for this was the worst thing that could have happened to him. "Warn the others," he told Broderick, the words ripped from him. "I want everyone in full armor and in the arena. I will be there shortly."
"Consider it done" was the reply before his second-in
-command rushed off.
He rubbed a hand over his face. Gods, he'd known this day would come. Why could it not have come in the morning? "Broderick," he called, and the warrior quickly returned. "Have the women been seen to?"
"They are being hidden even now."
"Excellent. Go, then. You have your orders."
Broderick stalked from the room a second time, his hurried footsteps echoing off the walls.
"I'm sorry, moon," Valerian said, gazing down at Shaye. Color flushed her cheeks; her pale hair splayed over the bed like ribbons of white silk. Her breasts, covered by the violet sheet, were outlined, her nipples pearled. "I must go."
She didn't respond.
He didn't know what else to say. Withdrawing from the bed, from her embrace, was the most difficult thing he'd ever done. He wished there was time, at least, to sate her desire and give one of them relief.
As he hurriedly dressed, tugging on his pants and retrieving his chest armor—still stained with blood from today's practice—he realized he was still not at full strength. His grip wasn't as tight, his limbs not as steady. There was no help for it now. He laced up his boots.
"You're going to war?" Finally his woman spoke, but her voice gave no indication of her emotions. It was as blank and cool as if he'd never caressed her. Never moved his fingers inside her.
That angered him as much as Broderick's interruption. "If that is what is required to keep this palace, then yes, I will go to war."
"But... you're injured."
"Yes."
"You shouldn't be fighting. You'll make your wounds worse."
He kept his back to her as he gathered his helmet and shield. The Skull rested inside. "Do not begin doubting me again, moon. I am well able to protect and defend."
"Why don't you just give the dragons back their palace?"
He would not have his army become wanderers again, no real home, no real refuge. "It is mine now, and I keep what is mine. Always." He uttered the words as a warning to her. She was his now, and he would never let her go. "Get dressed."
She glanced down at the sheet she clasped, at her gaping pants. She gasped as if she only then realized she had yet to cover herself completely. Motions stiff, she grabbed the black shirt from the floor and tugged it over her head.
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