Forbidden Craving. Gena Showalter
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think about.” He leaned forward and placed his hand on her thigh; she sucked in a breath.
What she didn’t do? Rebuke him.
Slowly, languidly, he slid his fingers higher. He stopped only a few inches away from the center of both their worlds.
“Shall we bargain, sweet Shaye?”
The pink tip of her tongue swiped over her lips and almost proved his undoing. “I’m listening.”
“Give me time.” Would she find ten years objectionable? Five? Probably. He sighed. “A year. A mere blip in a lifetime. If I fail to win your affections, I’ll return you to the surface.”
“You’re kidding, right?” She bit into a strawberry of her own. “By the end of that year, I would be considered dead. My business would fail. My home would be sold. My bank accounts would be emptied.”
He tensed with incomparable need, once again overcome by the desire to lick juice off her lips and chin...to dribble the sweet but tart droplets into her navel...between her legs. She would writhe as his tongue followed every path taken by the liquid. She would tunnel her hands through his hair while her knees squeezed his temples.
“Valerian?” She snapped her fingers in front of his face.
He blinked. Their gazes met...heated.
She had to suspect the direction his mind had gone—and she had to like it. Her pupils were blown, those velvety-brown irises utterly consumed.
“How long do you propose?” he asked, his voice more of a growl than anything.
She shifted in her seat, uncomfortable. “A week.”
Risk losing her forever for a mere seven days of her company? No! “Six months.”
“You ask for far too much.”
“I ask for far too little when I long to demand an eternity.”
A moment passed in heavy silence. Then she grated, “If I’m going to consider this bargain thing, I need to know a few things first.”
“Anything.”
She arched a brow. “Be honest. Do you want to wear my skin?”
“Pardon?”
“Yes or no? I have to know how deep this stalker slash creeper thing goes.”
“No?”
“Do you want to hump my eyeballs?”
“Interesting, but no.”
She drew in a deep breath, held it and released it. “A month,” she said. “I’ll stay a month.”
A month. A mere four weeks. Or thirty days. Or 720 hours. Or 43,200 minutes. Or 2,592,000 seconds.
Not. Long. Enough.
Could he win her in the allotted time frame? With anyone else, he would have said yes. With Shaye...
“Well?” she prompted.
Two of his warriors strode into the room, saving him from having to reply.
Both men sported wide, toothy smiles. Unlike the day before, each sported a relaxed posture. Strength radiated from them, so strong it was nearly tangible.
“Shaye, meet Broderick and Dorian.”
Broderick had an arm slung around Dorian’s shoulders. They smiled at Shaye.
They wore gilded breastplates, black pants and jewel-studded armbands, ready to train.
“Good morning, great king.” Broderick patted him on the back. “This promises to be a pleasurable day.”
“Highly pleasurable,” Dorian agreed.
The males whistled as they circled the table and heaped their plates with food. They must have worked up hearty appetites.
Valerian glared at them, actually...envious? Yes. Yes, he was. A first for him. Another blow to his pride.
Shivawn entered the room. He wasn’t smiling or relaxed but stiff; he glowered at everyone. He slammed himself onto the bench beside Valerian, the beads in his hair rattling, and silently filled his plate.
“Problems?” Valerian asked him.
“Maybe one or two. My woman vomited when we reached my room,” Shivawn muttered.
“Did you touch her?” Shaye asked, inserting herself into the conversation. “Fair warning. Your next words dictate my next actions.”
“No,” Shivawn snapped. “I obeyed orders.”
“Well, you just saved yourself a painful forking.” She set the fork in question beside her plate. “Let’s discuss the fact that you’ve decided to act like a child and pout.” She shook her fists in front of her face. “Boo hoo. Poor you. Now you’ll actually have to work at a relationship before having sex. Oh, the travesty!”
“Women love me,” the warrior grated.
“Wrong. They love your pheromone.” Her gaze slid to the others. “There’s a big difference, guys. Huge. Without that magic drug—and it’s a drug, I don’t care what your king says—I wonder if anyone would ever want any of you. You’ve got A-plus looks, sure, but after last night’s ceremony? You’ve got solid F-minus personalities.”
Having been on the receiving end of her sharp tongue more than once, Valerian sat back and enjoyed the show—enjoyed her.
She was born to be a queen.
And really, her words made him think. He’d never before taken the time to discuss his life—past, present or future—with any of his bedmates. He hadn’t cared to discuss his secrets, and they hadn’t cared to ask.
He wanted Shaye to know him. All of him. The good, the bad and the ugly. He wanted to tell her about himself and gauge her reaction, hear her thoughts.
He wanted to know her. All of her. No detail was too small. He wanted to know what had given her joy, what had pained her. He wanted to know about the men she’d dated.
Had she favored scholars? Warriors? How had the men treated her?
Had she ever been in love?
Valerian’s hands clenched on the arms of the chair, nearly snapping the wood. A need to maim, destroy and kill any man who’d once held this woman’s affections consumed him, hotter than a dragon’s fire. Her passion—his. Her affections—his.
Her heart—his!
He yearned to brand his very essence into her. She would know no scent but his. Would feel no touch but his. Would crave him, only him, as he craved her, only her.
He wanted her to feel the same way about any woman who’d come before her. He wanted her to brand him.
“My personality is as delightful as the rest of me,” Dorian said, cutting into his thoughts.
Broderick nodded. “As is mine. I’ve never gotten a single complaint.”
“What do you think I’ve been doing?” she asked. “Complaining.”
Both males looked to Valerian. He hiked his shoulders in a shrug, all what can I do?
“Get to know the women,” Shaye said. “You might be surprised by what you learn. Like, maybe they’re right for you but maybe they aren’t. And give them a chance to get to know you, to like you without any kind of chemical interference. Hey, here’s a thought. Maybe even go a step further and gift them with something special—prove they are special to you. And I’m not talking about the supposed gift between your legs.”
Mumbling under his breath, Shivawn swiped up his plate and stalked from the room.
Everyone watched him leave, each with a different reaction. Broderick laughed. Dorian frowned,