CHAPTER ELEVEN

      TENSION AND TESTOSTERONE heated the air, burning Shaye’s lungs every time she inhaled. Fury sizzled and snapped between Valerian and Joachim, making everything worse; a raging inferno, barely banked, threatened to destroy, well, everyone.

      As a child, she’d lived with emotional people. How many tirades and fits of jealous rage had her mother thrown over the years? Countless. If a husband ever came home late, china was thrown at his head—right along with accusations of infidelity. If a birthday or anniversary was forgotten, tires were slashed.

      How many times had her different stepmothers raged?

      How often had her father and stepdads experienced mansteria for some silly reason or another?

      Shaye had usually hidden in her bedroom.

      But none of those people had ever looked as scary as Valerian. The need to kill had darkened his expression. His lips were thinned and pulled back from his teeth—an animalistic scowl.

      Until this point, he’d shown her desire, amusement and patience.

      “I have a bargain for you, Joachim.” His voice lashed like a barbed whip.

      Joachim gave no outward reaction. Although his eyes did bear the same trace of dissatisfaction as Valerian and Shivawn.

      “I’m listening.”

      “I’ll give you my sword,” Valerian said. “You may have it with my blessing, but you must renounce all claim to the girl.”

      Traded for a sword? Be still my heart.

      “Unacceptable.” Black brows winged into Joachim’s hairline in a display of arrogance. “If you want the girl, you’ll have to renounce your role as king.”

      Dorian and Broderick snarled like animals.

      Okay. Enough. Valerian had faults—a lot of faults—but judging by the things she’d seen so far, he was a good king. Most certainly, this black-haired man would be a merciless dictator.

      “No,” she said. “As acting queen, I refuse on Valerian’s behalf.”

      “You don’t have a voice in this,” Joachim snapped at her.

      “And you won’t speak to her in such a manner,” Valerian snapped right back at him.

      Shaye blew Mr. Dictator a kiss using her middle finger.

      Valerian rubbed the back of his neck. “I cannot simply make you king. You know that. My men would never follow someone who hadn’t proved himself worthy.”

      “That’s true,” Joachim agreed. “Which is why I’m willing to prove myself worthy.”

      Valerian hands flexed, as if he imagined holding a sword. “And just how do you plan to do that?”

      “Yeah,” Shaye said. “How do you?”

      “Yesterday you were willing to fight me.” Joachim lifted his chin. “Are you still?”

      A nod without hesitation. “Yes.”

      “Are you willing to relinquish your crown when I best you, thereby proving myself worthy?”

      A predatory stillness came over Valerian. He muttered, “I knew it.”

      She’d never seen him fight. She’d never seen either of them fight. Joachim possessed the same confidence as Valerian, and yet he also struck her as bloodthirsty.

      Could Valerian win?

      And what if he were injured?

      The thought...displeased her. Because she needed him to remain in charge so that he could escort her home. Not for any other reason. Really.

      “What about a game of chess?” she suggested. “Hey. Not that it matters, but are either of you good at chess?”

      Valerian’s eyes narrowed on her—and churned with more fury.

      “What did I do?” As many insults as she’d tossed at him, he’d only ever smiled at her. But a mention of chess pushed him over the edge?

      “You doubt my skill with a sword,” he barked. Then he looked away from her, as if he couldn’t stand her, and that was somehow far worse.

      “Such a thing has never been done,” he said to Joachim, his tone careful, even guarded.

      Joachim wrapped his fingers around his sword hilt. “Yet such a thing has often needed to be done.”

      Well. Shaye had thought tensions were already high. Wrong! The room pulsed with danger.

      If she didn’t do something, and quick, the two males would come to blows right here, right now. But what could she do?

      Flash her breasts? No, thanks.

      Dance a jig, hoping everyone would laugh at her? Bad idea. She had a feeling any dance would be considered a mating dance. No, thanks.

      Food fight?

      Not great, but not terrible, either. A girl had to make do.

      Shaye scooped a handful of the coconut-cream pudding and tossed it at Joachim. Success! The pudding splattered over his cheeks.

      As he blinked in surprise—and before she could talk herself out of it—she launched a handful at Valerian.

      His gaze returned to her, hot so very hot. And so much better than the fury.

      No, no. So much worse!

      He gathered as much cream as he could on his finger and licked it away. Her insides quivered.

      The reactions this man roused in her...

      A grinning Broderick and Dorian leaned toward her...hoping to get nailed, as well?

      She might never understand these nymphos. But. Mission accomplished, tensions reduced.

      “Why did you do that?” As Joachim straightened, his armor clinked ominously. “Never mind. The answer doesn’t matter. What say you, Valerian? Shall we fight, the winner awarded the woman and crowned king with all the rights the title entails?”

      She had to swallow a shout of denial.

      At first, Valerian offered him no response. He took her hand and brought her fingers to his mouth. Out came his tongue, licking the pudding on her skin.

      Oh, my stars, what have I done?

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