Free The Nymph King by Gena Showalter Page A

Total strength lay there, dormant now, but ready to kill at any moment. Except…he could have crushed her with those hands at any time. He’d shown her nothing but gentleness.
    Foolish woman, she chided, placing her hand in his. Of course he hasn’t hurt you. He needs a healthy sex slave. His fingers intertwined with hers. At the moment of contact, dark, erotic pulses tingled through her. They’d touched before, and each time had elicited sparks. But this time…it was more intense. A deeper awareness in this skin-to-skin contact she’d wanted so badly but hadn’t wanted to want. Gasping, she tried to tug away from him, to sever the connection. He held tight.
    â€œMine,” he said.
    She bit the inside of her cheek against the pleasure that one declaration wrought. “I don’t understand any of this. I don’t understand you.”
    â€œYou will. In time.”
    The dire words—warning? promise?—rang in her head as she climbed the rest of the wooden stairs. At the top, two gleaming crystal doors were held open by giant rubies. Jeweled doorstops?
    Curiosity got the better of her. “Why do you have the entrance propped open like that?”
    â€œA dragon medallion is needed to open and close the doorways, and I do not wish to wear anything belonging to a dragon.” He spat the word dragon as if it was a foul curse.
    What kind of response could she offer to that?
    He tossed a frown over his shoulder. “And you had better not try to search for a medallion. If you do, you will be punished.”
    â€œWill I be punished for breathing?” she snapped. He seemed to be looking for an excuse to punish her.
    â€œIf it is done in the direction of another man, yes.” The warning was serious, though the tone lacked true heat.
    â€œPig.”
    â€œLover.”
    â€œBastard.”
    He flicked another glance over his shoulder. This time his lips were curled in a wicked half smile, and knowing intent sizzled in his eyes like blue fire. “Say that while we’re naked. I dare you.”
    She gulped and tore her attention away from him. A smart woman would have been memorizing her surroundings for possible escape routes instead of antagonizing (aka drooling over) her captor.
    Shaye forced herself to act like a smart woman. Down a long, winding hallway they strode, the wallsjagged once again and completely barren, offering no distinguishing marks to help her find her way back. They turned left. Left again. Right. Left. Right. They bypassed several open doorways, but they moved so quickly she had no chance to peek inside. The sound of their footsteps echoed throughout the hall.
    â€œWhere are we going?” she asked.
    â€œMy bedchamber.”
    â€œYour what?” Mouth opening and closing, she dug her sandy, squishy sandals into the marble floor. “Hell, no. Hell. No.”
    He could have dragged her along, but he stopped and faced her. His luscious mouth twitched in amusement. “We will not make love tonight unless you beg me for it. Does that appease this sudden fear you have of my room?”
    â€œNo,” she gritted out.
    â€œI wish only to show you the Outer City from my window.” He sighed another of those long, drawn-out exhalations. “Unfortunately there is not time for anything more.”
    Glaring, she anchored her hands on her hips. “You’re lying. Your kind always has time for sex.”
    â€œMy kind?” The smile quickly faded from his face. “By that I hope you mean the honest kind. I vowed never to lie to you, and I will not. My honor demands nothing less. I said I will not touch you tonight until you beg for it, so that is the way it will be.”
    Shaye didn’t allow his fervent vow to sway her. Even if he kept his word and kept his hands to himself, they would be near a bed. Most likely a decadent, made-for-sin bed. What if she saw it, lost her will to resist, andmade a pass at him?