The Nymph King (16 page)

“We are going to have a conversation, you and I,” he said, striding to the table. He sat across from her and filled two goblets with wine.

“Very well.” She sounded reluctant, unsure. At least she hadn't denied him outright.

“I was going to have a few of my former lovers advise you of my wondrous skill, but in the light of day that did not seem so wise.”

“No,” she said, nearly choking on her wine.

“Instead, I will tell you something about myself. Then you will tell me something about yourself. A conversation, as I said. Do we have a bargain?”

“I hate talking about myself,” she said, tracing her fingertip over the bottom of her glass.

“Still, you will do it.” Pause. “Please.”

She bit her lip again, but nodded.

He sipped his goblet of wine, watching her over the rim. “I will begin.” He paused, gathering his thoughts. How did one go about getting to know another person? What bits of his past should he give her? “I…had a brother,” he said. It was as good a place as any to start,
he supposed, as it was something he rarely spoke of, and never with a woman. The subject was too painful.

“Had?” she asked softly.

Nodding, he pinched a piece of fish between his fingers and popped it into his mouth. He chewed, swallowed. “He was my twin. He was stolen when we were children.”

Her eyes widened. “Who took him?”

Familiar rage filled him, but he tamped it down. “The gorgons.”

“The gor—what?” She crossed her legs, one over the other, and leaned forward, propping her elbows on the table. He had her full attention. She was interested in what he had to say, and her usual shields were still down.

“Gorgons are a race of women who can turn a man to stone with only a glance. Snakes slither on their heads. They are evil. Pure evil.”

Ah. Like Medusa. “Why did they take him?”

Valerian slid a platter of grapes toward her and beckoned her to take one. She did. “They hoped to trade him for my father's aid—which they did not receive,” he added darkly. “They killed Verryn for it. He and I shared a mind connection, and when that went dark I knew that he was gone.” The last emerged as little more than a whisper. He glanced to Shaye, trying to clear his mind of the hated memories. “Now, it's your turn. Tell me something about yourself.”

What should she tell him? Shaye wondered. He'd divulged something personal, something painful. She could do no less. Still, she tried to hold herself back. Tried not to reveal too much. He'd completely enchanted her today, and she feared she would never recover.

“Once I had a stepsister who chopped off all my
hair,” she said. “I was sleeping and didn't know it until the next morning.” The action had been punishment, in her stepsister's mind, for cutting the hair of her favorite doll—a crime Shaye hadn't committed. That honor went to her stepbrother.

When ten-year-old Shaye ran crying to her mother, she was told to “work it out like a big girl.”

Valerian's features darkened. “Your hair is sheer beauty, like moonlight and stars. Anyone who cuts it deserves death.”

Pleasure speared her, utterly sweet in its headiness. She wasn't used to receiving compliments, yet Valerian gave them to her so readily. “Thank you.”

“Living with the little demon must have been difficult.”

“Yes. Thankfully, though, my mom was only married to her father for a year.”

“Your mother had more than one mate?”

Shaye nodded. “She's had six.”

“Six!”

She nodded again.

“Here a man takes but one mate, and keeps her for eternity.”

She frowned as she considered his words. “What if the mated people are miserable with each other?”

“They must perform a blood ritual and offer a sacrifice.”

“Oh, ick.” She bit her bottom lip, not allowing herself to ask what
type
of sacrifice.

Valerian's gaze caught and lingered on her mouth, making her tingle, making her blood flow hot and achy. Then he shook his head, as if pulling himself from a spell. “What else would you like to know about me?” he asked.

“What about your first time?” she found herself saying. She wanted him, she did, and the more they talked, the weaker her resistance became. Surely hearing about his escapades with other women would strengthen her resolve.

He arched a brow. “Are you sure you want to know?” When she nodded, he said, “It was with my mother's favorite servant. She came into my room to bring me clean clothing, found me in the pool and joined me.”

At her disappointed expression, he laughed. “What did you expect? Toys? Orgies?”

“Well, yeah.”

His smile grew. “What about you? How was your first time?” The moment he asked the question, he tensed. His eyes darkened with what looked like fury.

Okay. What was he mad about now? “I, uh…” She stumbled over her words, even felt a blush heat her cheeks. “I haven't had a first time yet.”

His mouth fell open. “Surely you jest.”

“Hardly. Look,” she said, defensive. “I never wanted to have to deal with the problems associated with a sexual relationship.”

“What problems?” Valerian's shock had yet to fade; it only seemed to intensify. Shaye was virgin. She was untouched.

She was his.

He wanted her more in that moment than ever before. He wanted to be the only man to taste her. Now. Ever.

“Emotional entanglements are messy,” she said. “And if I don't get involved, I don't have to worry about getting hurt.”

“I will never hurt you, Shaye. I will never lie to you.”
He'd meant to learn more about her, to let her learn more about him. But he found himself saying, “I think, perhaps, the only way to convince you of this is to show you. So from this moment on, there will be no more talking. Only doing.”

“I
AM GLAD YOU RETURNED
,”
Joachim said.

Brenna inched toward his bed. Shivawn had escorted her here and now stood at the doorway behind her, watching and guarding her. She'd allowed it before, and she allowed it now. Usually, however, she could not stand having anyone behind her. That was how the attack had happened. Ethan had come at her from behind, surprising her, before flipping her around and— She cut off the thought.

They'd been together for a while, but his temper had grown blacker and blacker. When she'd tried to end things, he'd snapped. She should have died that day, so badly did he hurt her. So many times since then, she'd
wished
to die.

But today, having someone behind her—having
Shivawn
behind her—didn't scare her. She was coming to like Shivawn and his gentleness. Despite everything and even in such a short amount of time, she was beginning to feel safe with him and had even pictured herself doing…intimate things with him. Him, she assured herself. Not Joachim.

Earlier, when she'd been locked inside that room with the other women and they'd been retelling their
sensual exploits, wanton images had bombarded her. She hadn't been able to picture the man's face as he pleasured her in her mind, but she'd known it was Shivawn because she'd felt protected.
He
made her feel that way. Joachim…didn't. He made her feel dizzy and achy and weak, completely out of control.

At one time, she might have welcomed those things. Yeah, she'd once loved sex. She'd once loved men. But that had changed. Or so she'd thought.

It's Shivawn who turns you on. Has to be.
Except, she'd been waiting for this moment all day, wanting to see Joachim again, to hear his voice and trace her hands over his body. That, she couldn't deny and it scared her. He was nothing like Shivawn. He wasn't kind, and he wasn't gentle. He was a hard, volatile warlord who wasn't afraid to use his fists. Yet even now, thinking about him made her heart race, and not just with fear.

Stupid,
she told herself for the thousandth time. If she ever allowed herself to be intimate with a man again, it would be with someone like Shivawn.

Stop thinking about sex, Johnston. Get to work.
Silently she cleaned and rebandaged Joachim's wounds, glad to see he was healing nicely. No sign of infection. He was still too weak to rise, but his strength would return. He would even have full use of his arms and leg, once the tissue reconnected.

Just as she was finishing up, a new man stepped inside the room. He carried a long, menacing sword; she saw it from the corner of her eye and immediately tried to jump toward Shivawn, the only safe haven available, but Joachim latched on to her hand and held tight.
The action terrified her—not only because it was abrupt, but also because it fired her blood in a way it shouldn't. She cried out and was instantly released. She stumbled to her feet, away from all of the men.

“You are needed in the dining hall,” the intruder said to Shivawn.

Shivawn looked at her, then Joachim, ignoring the stranger. He frowned fiercely. “Did he hurt you?” he asked her.

She rubbed her wrist and shook her head no.

“Valerian has summoned you,” the stranger added impatiently.

Shivawn flicked the man an irritated glance, then stepped forward and gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze. “I hate to leave you, but I must obey the king. Will you be all right without me?”

Panic sprouted wings inside her chest. She didn't want him to go. Truly, he'd become her safety net in this unknown and wild land. But she forced herself to nod. Depending so desperately on one person was foolish.

“Would you like to go with me?” he asked.

Again, she shook her head no. She would stay. She would be brave. And she wouldn't allow Joachim to affect or scare her.
Easier said than done, Johnston.

Shivawn gave Joachim a brief but dark look, gently caressed Brenna's cheek, and then strode into the hallway, following the messenger. Brenna and Joachim were alone.

You can do this. You
can
do this. Joachim's too weak to do anything to you.
Slowly she turned toward him and eased back onto the bed. She was careful not to look into his eyes, those blue, blue eyes that seemed to cut
straight to her soul. Her fingers shook as she finished wrapping the last bandage.

“I am Joachim,” he said, breaking the silence.

“I know.” Her voice trembled as much as her hands. “Should not have challenged king.”

She imagined his nostrils flaring in fury. Still, she forged ahead. “Silly. Strength lies in compassion, not battles.”

For a moment the air was so charged she thought he meant to yell at her. But he didn't. He changed the subject, admitting grudgingly, “I thought of you last night.” Half pain, half accusation. “And today. I cannot seem to get you out of my mind.”

Before she could stop it, her gaze jumped to his. She gasped at what she saw. Desire. White-hot desire. Her hands stilled, poised over his thigh. She had a sheet draped over his middle—to protect her modesty rather than his. The sheet was higher than it had been a moment ago.

“I see fear in your eyes,” he said, still speaking low, voice heated. “But I also see interest.”

She bit her lip and shook her head. She would not admit to any type of interest. That would only encourage him. But…

“Talk to me, Brenna,” he said. “Tell me of yourself.”

His quiet beseeching surprised her. She never would have expected it from such a power-hungry warlord. “Wh-what would. You. Like to. Know?” Her throat was constricted, making it harder for her to speak.

“Everything.” Joachim tilted his head and regarded Brenna more intently. “I want to know everything about you.” Already he knew her smell—violets and the
sunshine he'd encountered so briefly on the surface. He knew her voice—scratchy and harsh, eliciting visions of passion and naked bodies.

Now he wanted to know her past. Her likes. Her dislikes. All the things that made her Brenna, the woman who obsessed him more with every second that passed.
Strength lies in compassion,
she'd said. He wanted to snort at that, but couldn't. He didn't know why.

“We will begin with something easy,” he said. “What is your favorite color?”

She glanced at the door, as if wondering what she should do. Stay and talk, or run. “Blue,” she finally replied.

If she were his woman, he would give her all the sapphires he owned. “Do you have family?” A family she missed? Wished to return to?

She shook her head. “Dead.”

He should not have felt relieved, but he did. “How did they die?”

“Car accident.”

Car? He was intrigued by a “car” that could kill an entire family, but was more curious about Brenna herself. “I am sorry for your loss, little one.”

Features shadowed, she waved a hand through the air. Her hand was shaking, he noticed. “Long time ago,” she said in that broken voice.

He wanted to grab her up and kiss her, anything to wipe away those shadows, but he ended up fisting the sheets and keeping his hands at his sides. “Do you like this new world? Atlantis?”

Her gaze drifted away from him, onto the wall behind him. She shook her head.

“Why not?” Disappointment hummed through his
blood. He'd hoped she had already come to love it as he did.

“Scary,” she admitted softly. She traced a fingertip over the sheet.

“You are frightened of us?”

She gave no response. Didn't move a muscle.

“I would never hurt you, Brenna,” he told her as gently as his fierce timbre would allow. “This I swear to you.”

A shiver stole through her. “Might not mean to, but—”

“Never.
Never.
”

“What are you saying to her, Joachim?” Shivawn demanded as he strode back into the room. “You have no right to use that tone with her.”

Brenna jolted to her feet, looking between them with fear in her eyes.

“Watch
your
tone, boy,” Joachim snapped. “You're scaring her.”

Shivawn's features instantly softened. “I'm sorry,” he told her. “I was called away to look for oranges, but I'm here now. I'm not angry, I promise you.”

Brenna gazed between the two men, a little…aroused and unsure who—or what—was causing that arousal. They were trying to soothe her and it was working. It was working! She was actually standing between two men who despised each other, two men who could attack and kill at any moment, and her fear was dissipating.

How are they doing this to me?
she mused, dazed.

Even more shocking, as the fear left her, something else took its place: desire. White-hot, consuming. An image of naked, straining bodies suddenly filled her mind. Once again, she couldn't see the man's face, but
the image was so lifelike she even heard the pleasure-moans of the couple. Her nipples tightened; moisture pooled between her legs.

Joachim bared his teeth and hissed in a breath. In fury? “You're aroused. I can smell it on you.”

Her cheeks heated to a blazing inferno.

“I can, too,” Shivawn said brokenly. “Brenna…”

She heard him take a step toward her, heard the thump of his boot. Again, there was no fear inside her.
What's wrong with me? What's happening to me?
This wasn't like her, not at all.

Joachim eased to a sitting position, and Shivawn continued to move forward.

“You are in need of a man, Brenna,” Joachim said, showing no mercy to her embarrassment. “But you are afraid of your desire, yes? You must be, to resist.”

“Yes,” Shivawn answered for her. “She is.”

“Have you ever been with a man?” Joachim asked her.

Breathless, she nodded.

“Did you like it?” Shivawn.

Another nod. She should stop this line of questioning, but a part of her was strangely relieved to have it out in the open.

“The man who hurt you and damaged your voice,” Joachim persisted. “Did he make you afraid of sex?”

She hesitated for a long while, finally opting for the truth. “Yes.”

Both men growled low in their throats, as if they wanted to kill the man with their bare hands. Still, the fear did not return. “I understand now,” Shivawn said. “Once a woman has been forced, she is not the same.”

“Yes,” Joachim said. “I, too, understand.” His voice sounded far away, a little weak.

“Joachim?” she said, sudden concern for him making her forget all else.

He fell back onto the bed, and his head lolled onto the pillow, his skin draining of color.

She hurried to him. “Okay?”

“Dizzy. Weak,” he admitted in an enraged snarl. “Shouldn't have sat up.”

She could tell the lack of strength did more than anger him; it unnerved him. As much of a fighter as he was, he was probably used to absolute control. Hadn't he told the king, Valerian, that he respected and liked him, but he just didn't want to take orders anymore?

Finally bits of her fear returned. Control. Something she valued, as well. She couldn't relinquish hers, no matter how aroused she became. And to give herself to either of these men was to give up her precious control. How could she have forgotten that, even for a second?

Frowning, she moved toward the door.

Realizing she meant to leave, Joachim uttered an abrupt, “Stay.”

There was total command in his voice. Oh, yes, he expected absolute obedience. Shaking her head, she backed up another step. Her eyes were unnaturally wide, she knew they were.

“Brenna,” he said. He tried to sit up again, but he didn't have the strength this time. “I will not always be so weak.” There was a warning in his tone.

She maneuvered around Shivawn, her gaze again darting between the two men. They were so beautiful, it almost hurt to look at them. And they were offering
everything she'd once wanted for herself: love, passion, companionship.
That dream is dead, remember? It's safest that way.

But a wave of longing swept through her. For a moment she wished one of the men would reach for her. Touch her…kiss her…slip inside her, sinking, gliding erotically. No, not one of the men. Shivawn, she told herself. But it wasn't green eyes she suddenly glimpsed inside her mind, above her, staring down at her. The man's eyes were blue. She scrubbed a hand over her own eyes to block the image.

How could someone like Joachim arouse her like this when no man had been able to do so for many years?

“I won't hurt you,” Shivawn said. He held up his hands, all innocence.

“Come to me, Brenna,” Joachim intoned.

“No,” she told Shivawn and Joachim grinned. “No,” she told Joachim, wiping away his smugness. Better to be without both of them.

“I want to know you,” Shivawn said. His voice was gentle. “I'll keep you safe. I won't let anyone else hurt you.”

“Do not let your need for safety destroy your love of life. I can teach you to conquer your fear and finally live again,” Joachim told her.

Shivawn faced Joachim, and the two squared off. “I can teach her to conquer her fear, too.”

“Maybe. But you will never truly make her happy,” Joachim snapped.

Perhaps neither of them could, and the knowledge filled her with a keen sense of disappointment. For with the return of his anger, Joachim had reminded her of exactly why she would never allow herself to be with
him. If he ever directed that anger at her, he would kill her.
Control,
she reminded herself.

For a moment, that one precious moment when the fear had vanished, she'd thought to really
live
again. Now…knowing such a thing was impossible, she ran out of the room before she did something stupid. Like cry.