The Nymph King (23 page)

“Push me…give me…let me come.”

She writhed. On the verge. So close, yet not close enough. He slid another finger into her, and it was a tight fit. Stretching her. Filling her. So. Good. Quickly his tongue flicked over her clitoris, showing no mercy. Not that she wanted any. This was everything she'd dreamed, everything she'd ever needed without knowing she did.

“I'm going to sink my cock into you, Shaye. You're going to spread your legs and welcome me, every stretching inch.”

“Yes.” Oh, God, yes. The thought of his penis inside her pushed her over the sweet edge. She spasmed around his fingers, clenching them tight. A scream, a sob. Flashing white lights blinked behind her eyes.

He suddenly loomed above her, her legs cradled in the crook of his arms, opening her fully. Exposing her completely. He was poised on the brink of penetration. “Once I'm inside you, you will be mine. Say it.”

“Yours. I'll be yours.” There was no denying it. She
was
his. Now, this moment, she was his. She reached up and wrapped her fingers around his neck, tangling in his hair. His chest was pressed against hers and she
could feel the fine-grained sand that still clung to him from the fight, adding friction, another depth of pleasure. “Kiss,” she beseeched.

His head swooped down, and he claimed her mouth. The moment their tongues touched, he slammed inside her. No waiting. No gradually letting her become accustomed. He was simply in her to the hilt. As if he couldn't go another minute without being there.

She cried out in his mouth; he swallowed the sound. She was so aroused, so slick with desire, so prepared for him, there was only a slight sting, then complete pleasure. He stretched her erotically, filled her inexorably.

On and on the kiss continued. She tasted herself on his lips. Tasted him, the heat of him, the passion. In and out his tongue probed in sync with his strong body. In and out. Moving quickly, hurtling them both to the stars.

“Can't…slow…down,” he panted.

“Glad.”

His testicles slapped at her. The tip of him hit all the way to her womb, the exact spot she needed him. She was already close, ready to explode for the second time. Tension coiled in her stomach, in her blood.

“Shaye!” he roared. He pumped into her, hard, delicious. “Mine.”

Mine,
she silently repeated. The climax gripped her, more intense than the first, making her shudder against him. Her knees clenched at him, and to the heavens she soared. High, so high.

He joined her there. He spasmed against her, inside her. Gave a final, pounding thrust. His eyes squeezed tight. Bliss consumed his features.

“Mine,” he growled. “Mine.”

 

V
ALERIAN HAD NEVER FELT
more powerful. Strength radiated from him, filled him, pulsed and sizzled. He always felt invigorated after sex, but this… Never like this. And with Shaye it had not been sex, he thought. It had been lovemaking. A union. Total and complete. Especially that last time when they'd licked her favorite fruit off each other.

Mine,
he thought again.

The word would not leave him. He'd never felt so possessive of another person. Actually, he'd never felt so possessive of anything, including his cherished sword. Including the palace. She'd tasted like no other woman. Erupted like no other woman. Pleased him like no other woman. He was the nymph, yet it was she who wrapped him in her sensual spell. It was she who enslaved him.

She snuggled into his side, her curves nestled against him. He could feel the soft exhalations of her breath. He would die without this woman. Simply perish. Cease to exist. He wanted to give her the world, offer her everything her heart desired.

Never more than now had he been so determined to keep the palace. He would not have his woman homeless, staying in whatever shack he could find for them. Yes, he would keep this place from the dragons.

He would keep Shaye. For eternity.

When he'd returned to the dungeon and she had not been inside the cell, his heart had stopped beating. Panic, dread, fury had consumed him. He'd nearly hacked Dylan and Terran to pieces. Then, when he'd seen Shaye as relaxed and at ease as if she had not a
care—while standing next to the portal, for the love of the gods—he'd panicked again.

How close he'd come to losing her.

Then she'd begun issuing orders with bravery and wisdom, acting every bit the queen she was meant to be, and he'd been struck anew with love for her.

Somehow, some way, he'd gain her oath to stay forever. He would never let her go.

A
FTER HE'D SATED HIMSELF
on the women and listened to their tales, Poseidon had whisked himself to the nearest river, a crystal stream of tranquility. Lilies floated on the surface. He now blended himself into the water, flowing with it, absorbing its coolness.

The nymphs had indeed broken the law. He needed to punish them quickly, before others thought to do the same. And he knew just what to do….

When he reached a fork in the river, he stopped. The water itself stilled, no waves, no liquid movement. Only the silent wind above, the patter of nearby animals. Then…the bank on his left suddenly flooded with dragon warriors, their wings flapping as they landed. Still, the water did not ripple.

Poseidon watched them. A long while passed before their dragon forms faded to human. Smooth, though scarred, skin instead of scales. Silky hair. Teeth instead of fangs. No tail. Of course, they were now naked, wearing only dragon medallions and holding their swords.

They began drinking from the stream, their angry chatter echoing between the trees. His gaze found Darius. The leader of the dragons was speaking with several of his men, issuing orders, his expression fierce.

He hadn't liked abandoning the palace, Poseidon knew. His instincts had been to stay and fight the nymphs—Valerian in particular. But Darius, if he recalled correctly, was a warrior who weighed the odds, studied the situation and calculated the percentages. He'd been outnumbered severely and he hadn't wanted his men injured when a sneak attack could work in their favor, evening the odds.

He was a smart man and exactly what Poseidon needed.

Come to me,
he commanded Darius, his voice carrying on the wind.

Darius paused and stiffened. His eyes searched the surrounding wooded area, glazed over the river, saw nothing and returned to his men. His shoulders remained stiff, his posture erect and his hands clenched tightly on the hilt of his sword.

Come,
Poseidon said again.

Darius's attention whipped to the river for the second time. His eyes narrowed. Poseidon knew the water provided only a reflection of his god-image, a glint in the fading light. Still, Darius obeyed this time, striding to the river's edge. The men he'd been speaking with watched in confusion.

“Is something wrong?” a hulking blond giant asked.

“Rest a while, Brand,” the dragon king responded without looking back. When he stood alone, he said, “You called, water god?”

The complete irreverence in his tone annoyed the god. “You know me, then.”

“I know
of
you.”

Poseidon's jaw clenched, causing a ripple in the
water. “Then you know the consequences of speaking to me thus. You know the suffering I can cause.”

Darius gave a clipped nod.

Not the bow of homage Poseidon preferred, but it would do. “I have learned some things since my return, Darius, things that do not please me. Because of this, I have several tasks to ask of you.”

A muscle ticked beneath his eyes. “Then I am at your command, of course.”

“Good. I wish you to return to the palace.”

There was a pause. “That is not my plan.”

“No, you wish to gather more men. That will take time, and I want my will obeyed now. This moment.”

Darius stood firm. “That will place dragon lives in unnecessary danger, and I can't allow that.”

“There will be no danger to you and yours if you sneak inside.”

“I do plan to sneak inside. But there
is
danger if I do not have enough men to take the palace once we are within.”

Poseidon grinned slowly. “Not if you are able to destroy half of the nymph and vampire forces before you even reach the palace hallways.”

Darius's brows arched, and interest sparked in his blue eyes. “Tell me how that is possible.”

“There is a doorway, a secret entrance below the portal.”

“Where exactly?” He sounded faraway, as if he was already breaching it in his mind.

“Do not worry. I will show you once you get there. You will sneak inside and return the human women to the surface, their memories wiped clean.”

“Done.”

“Once they are returned, you will destroy the nymphs. They'll be weak without their women and easy for you to take. Every one of them must die for daring to enter the surface world. They are not guardians, which means they have disobeyed the law.”

A muscle clenched in Darius's jaw. “Surely you do not mean all of them.”

“All.”

“Male
and
female?”

“All. You have done such deeds before. This should be no hardship for you, Guardian. If you think to refuse me, I will have your own wife sent back to the surface. You acquired her from there, did you not?”

A blaze of fury lit Darius's face, revealing the merciless killer he had once been. “I will not allow Grace to be taken. She is mine, a daughter of Atlantis now, pregnant with my child.”

“Yes, I know,” Poseidon said dryly. “The child is the only reason I'm allowing you to keep her. You, Guardian, should never have brought her back here in the first place.”

“I'm grateful you have finally decided to take an interest in your people, great god,” Darius said, his tone just as dry.

“Is this sarcasm something you acquired from your bride?” Poseidon did not like it. “Watch your tongue, or I will feed it to the vampires. If I wished to amuse myself elsewhere for a little while, that was my right. Go now,” he said. “Return to the palace. I will be there waiting, and I will show you the way inside.”

“Before you leave,” Darius said, irreverence still sparkling in his eyes, “perhaps you could gift us with clothing.”

“It will be my pleasure.” As a slight punishment for Darius's impertinence today, Poseidon blew his breath upon the dragon army, spraying them with a fine mist of sea and leaving them dressed in women's scarves.

Their hisses of shock rang in his ears long after he left them.

 

B
RENNA'S HANDS TWISTED
together. She stood at the edge of the dining hall, watching Shivawn, waiting for him to notice her. She'd been escorted to him after leaving the cave. He was speaking heatedly with a female Brenna hadn't seen before—a white-haired beauty who was caressing her fingertip down his chest.

Brenna watched the interaction with only the slightest hint of…jealousy? She wasn't sure. That was an emotion she hadn't felt in years. Whatever the emotion, she suspected it stemmed from not knowing what would happen to her if Shivawn found another woman. Would she be given to someone else? Joachim, perhaps?

Another question slithered through her mind. Would she be jealous if it had been Joachim talking so heatedly with another woman? She feared the answer.

Just thinking about the man made her shiver. No. No, no, no. It could be Shivawn making her shiver, she rationalized. He was safety, while Joachim was everything she feared: controlling, dominant and violent. So why did she have to desire him at all? Why could she not simply want Shivawn?

She sighed. As she'd stared into the portal today, about to return home, she'd been struck by a wonderfully frightening realization. She wanted to leave the
past in the past and embrace her new future. By embracing it, she could finally know true contentment and joy. By embracing it, she could finally
live.

It had been in that moment that she'd decided to sleep with Shivawn. But then Joachim's image had forced its way into her mind, and well, now she just didn't know. She
was
going to have a relationship: sexual, emotional, intimate. But which man would she pick? Life with Shivawn would be sweet and tender. Life with Joachim would be turbulent and exciting.

As she stood there debating with herself, Shivawn's head jerked to the side. He snarled something to the now-scowling woman, and his eyes met Brenna's. He stopped midsentence and stalked toward her. He didn't speak a word, just grabbed her hand and propelled her from the room.

Her blood heated with thoughts of being with him, of going to his room and tracing her hands all over his body, of feeling
his
hands on
her.
Her nipples even beaded…until she realized it still wasn't Shivawn's face she saw in her mind.

They weren't heading toward his room, she noticed a moment later. “Where?” she asked Shivawn. The walls surrounding his room were in a different state of repair than the ones here. These were… Realization struck her before he said a word, and her eyes widened. Joachim's room. They were going to Joachim's room. She knew because she'd curiously searched for and found it earlier. Menacing weapons had hung on the walls, a blatant reminder of why she couldn't want a man like him. Her stomach twisted with a mixture of apprehension and anticipation.

“Joachim is okay?”

“He is well.”

That meant…what? They arrived at the curtain a moment later. Shivawn didn't pause, didn't announce himself, just strode past the scarf barrier. He released her hand and stalked to a side table. He kept his back to her and poured a drink for himself. He downed it.

The first thing she noticed about the room was that the weapons were gone. Not a single sword hung on the wall. Why had they been removed?

Her gaze flicked to Joachim. He sat on the bed, his legs over the side, his elbows resting on his knees. His gaze devoured her. “Brenna,” he said, her name a sensual caress.

Instantly her blood heated another degree. Her nipples hardened further. Need pooled between her legs. With only a word, he brought her to readiness. They were going to make her choose, she realized. Last time she'd run from this, from her feelings. She squared her shoulders. Not this time. The other women in the palace were well satisfied. They never stopped grinning, never experienced a single fear. So badly she wanted to be one of them. She
would
be one of them.

No, there would be no more running. But could she risk the safety she was sure to find with Shivawn for the passion she was sure to find with Joachim? There would be no going back once she'd made her choice. They were too possessive, each too determined to be “the one.”

Shivawn didn't waste any more time. “You've kept me waiting long enough. You've kept
yourself
waiting long enough. End the agony and give me a chance, Brenna,” he said, once again at her side. He gently
gripped her shoulders and turned her to face him. “I will never allow another man to hurt you. I will take care of you, pleasure you, make you so happy you'll forget ever being sad.”

She bit her lip.

He added, “The man on that bed will never be kind or gentle or any of the things I sense that you need.” He turned her again, this time making her face Joachim.

Her eyes met Joachim's once more, and her stomach quivered.

“Look at him,” Shivawn said. “Even now there's a wildness about him that you cannot deny. He will never be able to control his temper. He will never be able to destroy the demons that plague you.”

Shivawn's words were supposed to comfort her, to assure her that choosing safety over passion was the right decision. But they didn't. Because there was no stronger warrior than Joachim. He did have a temper, and he did appear wild. Yet, if anyone could fight and destroy demons of the past, it was him. He was just so
vital.

Joachim didn't utter a sound. He simply pulled four strips of cloth from underneath his pillow. He draped them over his knees.

“What are those for?” Shivawn demanded.

“Tie me to the bed, Brenna,” Joachim said.

She glanced down at the material in puzzlement…and desire. “What?”

“Tie me to the bed.”

Her gaze swiftly returned to Joachim's face. His expression was hard, resolved and aroused. So aroused. Heat blazed in his blue eyes, burning her inside and out. “Why? Don't understand.”

“I'm not going to tell you that you'll hate yourself later if you choose Shivawn. You could probably be happy with him, and you'll always feel safe. But he can't fill the void inside you and give you the life I know you've dreamed of having. I can. All you have to do is trust that I'll never hurt you. Never. I would die first. I'll do whatever it takes to prove it.”

“Joachim,” Shivawn snarled.

“Tie me to the bed, and you will be in control of everything that happens,” Joachim explained. A muscle ticked beneath his eye. “I'm giving you complete…power over me. You need to take back your sense of control, so I'm going to help you.”

He was talking about bondage. About sex. Her wild gaze darted between the two men. “Shi—Shivawn?” What did he have to say about this?

He was the one to remain silent this time. He was stiff and radiated fury.

“I noticed how you jump every time someone comes up behind you,” Joachim said, “so I'm going to show you the pleasure of having a man there. Later. This time I want to show you the pleasure of being in control.”

This big, strong warrior was willing to give up control—his precious control—for her. A tremor worked through her. The revelation startled her,
strengthened
her. She'd wanted passion, she'd admitted that to herself already. No one could give her more passion than Joachim. She'd admitted that, too, but she'd been scared of it. Scared of him. And so she'd done her best to fall for Shivawn. She might even have convinced herself of it. For a while. Eventually, she would have realized the truth.

All along, it had been Joachim she'd desired. She simply hadn't wanted to want him. He was taking a chance on her with his willingness to be bound. She could do no less for him.
I'm not going to be scared anymore.

Eyes filling with tears, she looked at Shivawn. He was so sweet, so kind and giving. But as she looked at him, she realized he was exactly what she didn't need anymore. A bodyguard. She could take care of herself now. She'd been in this palace for days and hadn't been hurt. She'd faced down the warriors and hadn't been attacked.