Forbidden Craving: The Nymph King / The Beautiful Ashes. Gena Showalter
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Her free hand fisted, and her belly quivered. “No,” she said.
He sighed. “If you insist on abstaining—”
“I do.”
“Then I’ll spend the rest of the day—” he grimaced “—talking with you.”
Probably shouldn’t laugh.
Really, he could have claimed she owed him.
Once a date had felt entitled to sex after paying for dinner. If not for her self-defense classes he might have succeeded in his endeavor to exact payment. But Valerian acted as if only her delight would spark his own.
No self-defense class in the world could protect her from his appeal.
“How altruistic of you,” she finally said, forcing a dry tone.
“Tell me. Have you had a bad experience with sex?” he asked gently. “Because I would be happy to return to the surface and punish anyone who ever hurt you.”
The urge to lean against him, simply enjoy being with him, bombarded her. “No.” Try zero experiences, buddy. How would Valerian react to that?
And she wanted to lean against him? Fear raised its ugly head to screech, Fool!
Why begin something destined to end?
“What if Joachim challenges you again?” she asked, changing the focus of the conversation. “Or what if he just stabs you in the back without bothering to engage in a fair fight?”
“He won’t.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Joachim lost. Everyone knows his skill is inferior to mine. Whether he kills me in the future or not, he’ll never be accepted as leader.”
They turned another corner, torches lighting the hallway, revealing familiar nicked-and-scuffed walls.
At the entrance to the master suite, he opened the door with his free hand.
She released him to soar inside—and gasped.
The large bed had been made, with a new comforter. A pink comforter.
Jewelry had been scattered over the vanity. Every piece boasted pink diamonds or pink crystals. A full-size mirror hung on the wall, the frame made from pink-veined marble.
Steam curled from the bathing pool, twining around the pink flower petals that floated on the surface.
“I can’t...how did you...?” Use your words.
An impossibility at the moment.
“I sent a man to the Outer City bright and early this morning to buy things I thought you’d like. I want you comfortable in this room. Want it to be ours, not mine.”
She swallowed the lump growing in her throat.
“Thank you,” she managed to say. “This might be the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”
“This, Shaye, is only the beginning.”
* * *
STANDING THERE, VALERIAN drank in the sight of his mate. Then he drank in the sight of the bed. He wanted Shaye there, splayed and open for his view. His touch.
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