Gena Showalter - The Nymph King

Valerian responded in the same, clipped language.

What were they saying?

When he next spoke, the dark-headed man motioned to Shaye with a tilt of his chin.

Whatever Valerian's reply, it was not nice. His tone was hard, utterly unbending. Dripping with command. The warrior paused only a moment, shrugged and strode away.

"What was that about?" Trying not to panic again, Shaye angled her head and stared up at Valerian.

That proved to be a mistake. A big, fat chocolate-covered mistake. The moment their gazes locked, a wave of sexual energy sparked between them, stronger than before, undeniable and irresistible. He ate her up with his eyes, bit by devastating bit, mentally stripping her, already riding her. Hard. Fast.

Look away. Look away, damn it! Any more of that piercing, heady gaze and she'd come. Then and there, no physical stimulation required. Need coiled between her legs, pooling hot and wet, spiraling through her stomach, her nipples.

"Oh, God," she gasped out. Look away! The intense ache was too much. "What was that conversation about?" She didn't mean to shout, but the question ripped from her as she jerked her gaze to the ground.

"I am taking you to your new home," he answered. "You will live with me and see to my every need. Will you come willingly?"

"Hell, no." Her eyes narrowed on her sandals as she fought the urge to face him again. "I'm staying here. Do you hear me? I'm staying!"

He leaned down, his mouth teasing her ear. "I'm glad you said that, for now I get to carry you." Without another word, he spun her around and hefted her onto his shoulder as if she weighed nothing more than a bag of feathers.

"Idiot! Jackass! Moron!" She fought and kicked with all her might, and her knee slammed into his stomach. "Put me down. I'll make you miserable. I'll never stop fighting you. I won't see to your needs."

"You, love, will make me a well-satisfied man," he gritted out. "That I promise you." He strode past the line of women.

Even through her struggles, Shaye held her mom's watery stare until the tent flap was swept aside and Valerian carried her into the night. At least her mom wouldn't be forced to endure... whatever these men were going to make her and the others endure.

The rest of the men fell into pace beside Valerian. The young, single women followed blithely, happily, behind them. From inside the tent, the sound of feminine sobs echoed. "Take me with you," several called. "Please. I'm begging."

Shaye stilled. She rubbed her eyes, pinched the bridge of her nose. This is not happening. Surely this big, brawny, sinfully gorgeous warrior was not carrying her over his shoulder, striding toward the ocean, determined to take her to his home. Wherever that might be. What should she do? What could she do?

Valerian hesitated for a moment, as did the others. "Beautiful," he whispered, gazing at the velvety night sky, the pinpricks of starlight. "So beautiful." He spoke in English—for her benefit? "Now that we have our women, we can enjoy the sights."

"The heavens seem to go on forever," another said, awed. He, too, spoke in her native tongue, following Valerian's lead.

"I'd dreamed of this land, but never imagined such majesty."

"Are you sure we cannot stay here, my king? We could bring the rest of the army here and—"

Valerian shook his head, and the silky tendrils of his hair brushed her bare back. She shivered. "I am sure," he said. "Layel was very clear. To remain on the surface is to die on the surface. Let us tarry no longer." He started forward, expecting everyone to follow. They did.

"For the last time, put me down!" Shaye shouted. She slapped his butt. "Now!"

He slapped her butt in return, then surprised and excited her by massaging away the sting. His hand lingered and savored the feel of her backside. If her grass skirt parted any more...

She snarled low in her throat. Angry at him, angry at herself. Remaining cool and emotionless was not an option. "This is illegal. You're going to get caught. Criminals always get caught. At your trial I'm going to request the death penalty."

"As long as I have tasted you, I can die a happy man."

"Is that supposed to make me shut up?" She beat her fists into his back, watching sand kick at his feet. The echo of churning waves filled her ears. "Is it supposed to make me happy that you've got me trussed up like a sack of potatoes? And why the hell are you walking toward the water?"

"I told you. We are going to my home." His gait easy, he stepped over several of the scuba-clad men who were still lying motionless on the beach.

"Did you kill those men?" she demanded. "Who are they?"

"They were waiting at the portal and attacked, so I did not stop to seek an introduction. And no, we did not kill them. We simply made them sleep." Valerian entered the ocean. Cool waves lapped at his ankles... his knees... thighs. Salty droplets sprayed over her face, burning her eyes.

A gasp slipped from her lips. "Stop! Stop this instant. Put me down."

He kept moving, sinking deeper and deeper into the water.

"Idiot! What are you doing? You're going to drown me."

"I will never allow harm to befall you, little moonbeam." Still, he continued into the water. The other women followed merrily, each wearing a giddy smile. As if frolicking to their deaths was perfectly acceptable. Even fun.

Wait. No, not every woman followed happily. The one with dark curls was fighting her captor, struggling for freedom.

Shaye's heart pounded in her chest, an erratic drumbeat. A war beat. "You're going to kill us all, you overgrown G.I. Joe. You're going—umph." She swallowed a mouthful of salty water, and the next thing she knew, she was completely submerged. Her eyes burned. Her throat constricted. Hair floated around her face like strands of ivory ribbon.

The idiot man kept his strong arms locked around her, one at the bend of her knees, one at the small of her back. His palms were hot, so hot, a startling contrast against the chilly liquid. Silver-white hair continued to dance around her. Colorful fish swam past her line of vision. She wanted to scream. Oh, how she wanted to scream. But every time she opened her mouth, she swallowed more water.

Deeper, deeper he sank. She needed to breathe, damn it! Any minute her lungs were going to burst. Valerian was insane. A drowning murderer on a suicide mission.

She fought against his hold with all her strength, kicking, beating, scratching. Finally the ocean became so deep he couldn't remain upright. They tilted forward, and he began using his powerful legs to swim them even deeper. Deeper still.

I'm going to die, she realized. Truly die. Terror beat through her. Already her lungs shrieked for air. There were so many things she wanted to do, and dying wasn't one of them. She wanted to write a book, maybe a sappy romance where the heroine experienced the love Shaye had always denied herself. She wanted to get another tattoo, maybe a pretty flower this time. Her first tattoo, a skull and crossbones on her lower back, was something she'd gotten in an attempt to make her parents notice her.

Her mom had definitely noticed and still mailed her tattoo-removal coupons every few weeks. The coupons amused her, actually made her feel liked—if not loved.

Another thought tried to form, but her mind blanked, cutting it off and becoming as dark as the water. Breathe, she mentally shouted. Breathe before you pass out.

Suddenly the water cleared, so glassy she could see as perfectly as if she were on land. Even the salt dissipated, soothing her irritated eyes. Valerian tugged her forward until they were eye-to-eye. Automatically she tried to push herself away from him, but he held tight.

Maybe that was for the best. She didn't want to lose her single connection with life. And right now, Valerian was her only solid anchor—psychotic though he was.