Atlantis - The Nymph King Part 20

For a minute she didn't obey. She glanced from him to the table, from the table to him. She gulped. He expected her to say something in rebuke, but she surprised him by walking to the table and sitting.

He loved the way his shirt and pants draped her slim body, but all he could think about was getting under them.

He removed his armor, unbuckling the links at his shoulders and letting the gold pieces fall to the ground. He washed his face in the basin, splashing cool water over his skin. He should have bathed before collecting her and taking her into the city, but he 'd been too eager to see her. And a part of him hoped to bathe with her.

"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 gla.s.s.

"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 a.s.sociated with a s.e.xual 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."

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

"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 a.s.sured 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 s.e.x. 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 s.e.x, 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 compa.s.sion, 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 pa.s.sion 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 pa.s.sed. Strength lies in compa.s.sion, 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."