Free The Nymph King by Gena Showalter Page B

“Your honor doesn’t mean shit to me. I’m not going to your bedroom.”
    A muscle ticked in his jaw. An inferno blazed in his eyes, a churning tempest of blues. From cerulean to azure to the palest violet. “Very well,” he said, each syllable precise. “We will not steal a moment for ourselves. We will join the others. I can only hope your prudish nature will prevent my men from choosing you.”
    â€œChoosing me for what?” she bit out, ignoring the “prudish” comment. She suspected the answer, and she almost screamed when it came.
    His brows arched, and his lips dipped downward. “For their bedmate, of course.”

CHAPTER SIX
    V ALERIAN HAD TO CARRY his intended mate to the dining hall. Something he enjoyed immensely, even though she kicked and shouted profanities the entire way. Her breasts pressed into his back, her legs draped over his stomach.
    He grinned. Oh, but he liked this woman’s spirit. How amusing she was. He only wished he knew her name. Up Yours, indeed. She refused to tell him the truth, and that he didn’t like. He hadn’t cared before, with other women, but knowing this one’s name seemed necessary for his survival.
    â€œI will not be your sex slave, and I will not be your army’s sex slave. Do you understand me? I won’t!”
    No, she would be his lover. His mate. His. And only his. Earlier he had seen the way his men glanced at her, the way their gazes had trailed over the curve of her waist, awaiting glimpses of the pale skin beneath her grass skirt.
    Perhaps he would not keep her dressed that way, as he’d first thought. Perhaps he would drape her in thick, dark cloth from head to toe. As it was, one of his warriors would probably try to select her. What man could resist the fire burning beneath the cool facade, begging for release?
    Valerian would kill before he allowed another man to have her.
    He’d told her that his honor would not allow him to lie, but really, honor meant nothing in the face of losing her. He’d lie, he’d cheat, he’d do whatever was necessary to ensure that no other man tried to claim her.
    As he turned a corner, Valerian wished the little moonbeam would have let him take her to his room. He would have shown her the city view as promised, yes, but he also would have utilized the stolen time to the fullest. He would have tempted and tantalized her until she thought only of him. A forbidden caress, a lingering, heated glance. His men would have seen how much she desired him, only him, and would have been less inclined to choose her.
    Now he would have to think of something else.
    â€œTake me back to the beach,” she said, beating her fists against his buttocks. “Right now, damn it! I’m through playing nice. Do you hear me?”
    â€œI am not sure how many different ways I can tell you that this is your home and you are staying here forever.” Perhaps it was best they hadn’t gone to his room. Now he could get the selection process over with. Now he could prove she belonged to him. Now his men could concentrate on their chosen.
    He, of course, could then concentrate on…Up Yours. “What is your name?” he asked. While her continued defiance was amusing, it was also frustrating.
    â€œWhen the cops hear about this you’ll…you’ll…this is kidnapping, you bastard.”
    That she didn’t want him and would have been happiest if he’d left her on the surface world was ashumbling as it was shocking. “You are frightened,” he rationalized. “I am sorry for that.”
    â€œFrightened? Ha! I’m pissed.”
    Despite her denial, he knew she was scared. Her heartbeat drummed erratically against his back, and he could feel the shallow exhalations of her breath against his skin. She fought the emotion, however, showing only fury. His admiration for her increased.
    Gods, he wanted—nay, needed—her. To