Forbidden Craving
Two unforgettable fan-favorite novels from the biggest stars of paranormal romance
The Nymph King Gena Showalter
Includes all-new scenes!
Females young and old, beautiful and plain crave Valerian’s touch. None can resist his blatant sensuality and potent allure—until he steals Shaye Holling from a Florida beach and holds her prisoner in his underwater kingdom. Now Valerian must fight for the privilege of claiming her as his own. Because there’s one thing Shaye doesn’t know...when a nymph discovers his true mate, she’s his for life.
The Beautiful Ashes Jeaniene Frost
With her sister missing, Ivy discovers a startling truth—the disturbing, otherworldly hallucinations she’s always had are real, and her sister is trapped in a demon realm. The one person who can help her is the dangerously attractive rebel who’s bound by an ancient legacy to betray her. Adrian and Ivy must battle their desires if they’re to save her sister, but Adrian knows the truth about Ivy’s destiny, and sooner or later, it will be Ivy on one side, Adrian on the other and nothing but ashes in between...
Praise for New York Times bestselling author Gena Showalter
“A world of myth, mayhem and love under the sea!”
—#1 New York Times bestselling author J.R. Ward
“The Showalter name on a book means guaranteed entertainment.”
—RT Book Reviews
“One of the premier authors of paranormal romance. Gena Showalter delivers an utterly spell-binding story!”
—#1 New York Times bestselling author Kresley Cole
Praise for New York Times bestselling author Jeaniene Frost
“Jeaniene Frost brings her signature wit, sizzle, and extraordinary imagination to this epic new series. I was addicted from page one.”
—#1 New York Times bestselling author Jennifer L. Armentrout
“Frost’s fast-paced paranormal romantic thriller is a pure stunner...”
—Publishers Weekly (starred review)
“Jeaniene Frost is blessed with a creative soul.”
—#1 New York Times bestselling author Sherrilyn Kenyon
Forbidden Craving
Gena Showalter & Jeaniene Frost
www.millsandboon.co.uk
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Table of Contents
Cover
Back Cover Text
Praise
Title Page
THE NYMPH KING BY GENA SHOWALTER
Dedication
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
EPILOGUE
THE BEAUTIFUL ASHES BY JEANIENE FROST
Dedication
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
EPILOGUE
Acknowledgments
Extract
Copyright
THE NYMPH KING
Gena Showalter
To Jeaniene Frost—what an honor and dream come true to be in a duology with you!
CHAPTER ONE
Atlantis
VALERIAN, KING OF THE NYMPHS, lover extraordinaire and greatest leader of the greatest army in the history of Atlantis, untangled from the naked, slumbering woman beside him...only to discover his legs were entwined with two other naked, slumbering women.
He truly thought to leave this paradise?
With a sleep-rough chuckle, he abandoned all efforts to escape and relaxed against the softness of the bed. Satisfaction hummed inside him.
The females curled closer to him, soft tendrils of hair—a delightful mix of black, brown and red—cascading across the muscle and sinew he worked hard to maintain.
Did life get any better than this?
Had he known what awaited him in this massive palace, he would have fought the dragon shape-shifter army for rights to it years ago rather than mere weeks.
Nymphs, once touted eternal wanderers, had desired a permanent home almost as desperately as they desired sex.
Sex was like air to nymphs. Without it, they suffered, and they died.
They’d won the palace with only minor losses, expecting to charm and seduce the female dragon shape-shifters still in residence. Within minutes of victory, however, the entire enclosure had emptied, leaving no one to wine, dine and recline.
Until yesterday.
Beneath the palace were catacombs. There, Valerian discovered a strange, upright pool—or rather, a portal leading into another world. The human world. Earth, it was called.
All his life he’d heard rumors about the portal and the topside world. Everyone inside Atlantis had heard, considering there were humans scattered among them. But Valerian had never dreamed he would become the gatekeeper.
He’d watched, dumbfounded, as the trio of femininity currently occupying his bed stumbled through the pool. A sleek black beauty, a plump redhead and brown-skinned goddess.
At first, they’d looked at him and panicked.
“Where are we? Who are you?”
“What happened?”
“I can’t... I want to go...”
“Oh, wow. You’re hot. Take off your clothes.”
The pheromone Valerian exuded every day...hour...minute was the most powerful in the world and considered a potent aphrodisiac. Pair that aphrodisiac with his angelic face, and who could resist him?
In the back of his mind, he heard other immortals calling him conceited, narcissistic and boastful. He considered himself honest.
Besides, he’d never really cared about the reasons why women preferred him over other men. He’d simply enjoyed the end results. Again and again.
The trio of beauties had basically attacked him, kissing every inch of him while ripping at his clothes. He’d barely gotten the females into his bedroom with his nonexistent virtue in tact.
Between rounds one and five, he’d finally managed to question his lovers. One moment they’d been swimming in the ocean, the next they’d been sucked through a swirling black hole...the next they were inside the catacombs of the fortress.
Welcome to Atlantis. Home to creatures you’ve only ever considered myth.
Vampires, Minotaurs, griffins, Amazons, trolls, centaurs, winged horses, mermaids and more. The Greek gods had trapped the different immortal races in a dome under the sea. Less competition for human adoration, Valerian supposed.
Peering up at the ceiling, he braced his nape with one hand. The dome had been created with naturally grown crystals and had always protected the fortress from the elements. Now, light uncoiled from the sparkling minerals to caress the chamber he’d claimed as his own.
The master’s suite. An enormous space with luxuries beyond imagining. A unicorn pelt had been turned into a rug and draped in front of a marble hearth.
Valerian would rather the unicorn still lived, wild and free.
Never-ending fires crackled from bejeweled torches that hung along golden brick walls. A dresser forged from a massive diamond pressed against a vanity that had been cut from one of the last trees to grow in the Forest of Wisdom Eternal.
The bed occupied the center of an island cutout, with three separate bridges leading to and from the rest of the room. In the spaces between each bridge, a dark abyss loomed. One wrong step...
The perfect precaution against attack.
“Valerian.” The bronzed goddess stretched her arms above her head and arched her back, her expression soft from slumber. “You weren’t just a dream.”
“No. I’m very real.” He caught her hand and lifted her knuckles to his lips, licked. “And I’m very appreciative of your sweet sweetness.”
Warm breath fanned his pectorals as she chuckled. “I’ve never slept with a man after a two-second introduction, but I find I can’t regret my actions.”
“Regrets never do anyone any good,” he told her.
She giggled. “While multiple orgasms do a whole lot of good.”
She had no idea.
Need arose, and he considered going for round six. Problem was, good sex required half an hour, at the very least, and his men awaited him in the training arena. He could spare another five minutes, perhaps, but no more.
The surviving dragon shape-shifters would return and attack; they would be willing to do anything to regain ownership of the fortress.
He sighed. “I must go.”
Moans of disappointed erupted.
“Are you sure?” The black beauty wrapped her fingers around the base of his erection. “Because your body says I want to stay.”
Three sets of hands and breasts were suddenly all over him. Hot, greedy mouths sucked at him. Wet, needy female cores rubbed against him. The scent of desire enveloped him, and he gnashed his teeth, wanting, needing, to please.
The blessing and curse of a nymph.
“Ladies—” he began.
“Just being near you makes me desperate to come.” The plump redhead with her deliciously ample curves purred at him.
“I can’t get enough of you.”
“I’m addicted to you and pretty sure I’ll die without you.”
He ignored the fiery heat that ignited in his blood. At times, when the need overwhelmed him, he was reduced to an animalistic state, taking his lovers with a savage intensity better suited for the battlefield.
Valerian leaped from the bed and swept up his leathers. The women pouted as he dressed and strapped on his weapons.
“There are other warriors here,” he said. “Men just like me. You’re welcome to seduce anyone who catches your eye.”
He’d never had a problem sharing, and doubted he ever would.
“Dibs!” one said.
“On whom?” another asked.
The brown-skinned goddess fluffed her hair. “All of them.”
The black beauty punched the pillow. “Greed will be the death of you—because I’ll kill you dead!”
The nymph pheromone usually erased inhibitions to reveal true desire, but these humans struck him as particularly susceptible. Willing to kill for pleasure?
The perfect females.
“There are hundreds of warriors here,” he said. “More than enough to sate each of you for months. Years.”
If they heard him, they gave no notice. They continued arguing among themselves...until the heat of anger morphed into the heat of desire. Lips kissed and hands wandered.
Well. I’d say my job here is done.
* * *
CLANG. WHOOSH. CLANG.
Sweat trickled down Valerian’s bare chest and back as he swung his sword. The heavy metal slammed into his opponent’s upraised weapon.
Broderick toppled, crash-landing, dirt flinging in every direction. Some of the grains sprinkled over Valerian’s freshly polished boots.
He waited for his friend to stand, but Broderick remained prone. “Get up, man.”
“Can’t,” was the panted reply. “Also, I don’t want to.”
Valerian frowned. Four times he’d put the fierce Broderick on the ground. In only one hour.
And Broderick wasn’t even the worst case!
If his men grew any weaker, the fortress would be lost the first time they were challenged. They needed sex. Today.
The humans would probably love a go at his nymphs, but they would have to choose one warrior, only one. The more nymphs they bedded, the more addicted to the pheromone they would become, until they lived and breathed for their next nymph lover. And yet, the second the females made their selection, fights would break out among his army.
“I hate this,” Broderick muttered, his voice strained. He sat up, head bent and anchored in place by his upraised hands, his golden hair shielding his eyes. “Weakness is for women, babies and the elderly.”
Nods throughout the room.
Valerian slashed his sword’s tip into the sand. A tip that had been shaped and honed into the image of a skull—a tip that inflicted irreparable damage to his opponents.
His gaze traveled the ranks of his army. Some of the men were sitting on a bench, sharpening their blades, while others leaned against a stone wall, their expressions lost, faraway. Only Theophilus appeared ready for anything more than a nap.
Well, that wasn’t quite true. Though Joachim was hunched over, his elbows resting on his knees, his head was tilted to the side as he gazed up at Valerian with undeniable sparks of fury.
What was his cousin angry about now?
“Line up,” Valerian commanded the entire group. “Now.” The sharpness of his voice finally snagged everyone’s attention.
The men stumbled into a clumsy zigzag formation. What he saw? Skin stretched tight with strain, shaky grips and unsteady legs. At this rate, Valerian would be the only one to offer any sort of resistance if the dragons attacked. And the dragons would attack. Darius the Heartless, their exalted king, wasn’t known for his forgiving nature.
“I need you ready for action.” His hands fisted at his sides. Defeat wasn’t something he allowed. Ever.
A warrior won. Always. Without exception.
Broderick sighed and scrubbed a hand down his grim features. “We need sex, Valerian, and we need it now.”
“I know.” He considered his options. There were few.
Possibility number one: he could send a handful of soldiers into the Outer City a few miles away. Sirens—women who seduced with their voices—lived there, and they could be convinced to move into the fortress.
First problem: sirens sided with dragons, and they could strike the nymphs while they were weak.
Second problem: sirens usually killed those they bedded, an impulse as fierce as a nymph’s need for sex.
Third problem: since the march to the fortress, the females of Atlantis had avoided nymphs as if they came with a side of plague.
Word had spread. Give yourself to a nymph, and you lose yourself to his dark, sexual hunger.
Possibility number two: rethink possibility number one.
“You’ve been with humans,” Dorian said. “I can smell them on you, and it’s destroying my ability to concentrate.” With his obsidian hair, godlike features and mischievous sense of humor, women of every race usually flocked to him. There was nothing mischievous about him right now; he radiated jealousy and resentment. “I almost—almost—want to have my wicked way with you.”
Guilt consumed Valerian. He’d taken care of his needs while neglecting those of his men. He had to make this right.
There was a third possibility: entering uncharted territory. Why the previous owner of the palace hadn’t thought of it, Valerian wasn’t sure and didn’t care.
No risk, no reward.
He studied his men. They were a range of heights and colors, from the palest ivory to the darkest onyx. Some were cut with muscle while others were stacked.
“I found the portal into the human world,” he said, bracing his hands behind his back. “A small group of us can venture there and convince whatever females we find to return to Atlantis with us.”
A chorus of “Yes” immediately erupted. Smiles abounded.
“Thank you, great king.” A beaming Shivawn patted the shoulder of the man beside him.
“We can’t stay long.” Not with dragons foaming-at-the-mouth eager to reclaim the fortress.
“Perhaps I’ll find my mate,” someone called.
Everyone cheered.
Valerian nodded in agreement. When a nymph mated, he mated for life, no matter his age or circumstances. His body would never crave another; his heart would beat only for one. The one.
The very idea should have been terrifying to him. But just like the other warriors, Valerian wanted his mate more than he wanted...anything.
His twin brother had died years ago, leaving a hollow ache in his chest. An ache he prayed his mate would fill. He’d searched for her. For centuries. No stone in Atlantis had been left unturned. Eventually he’d begun to despair. What if I don’t have a mate?
I do. I must.
He wouldn’t give up hope.
His father had told him a nymph would know his “one” the moment he scented her, and she would, in turn, recognize him, choosing him above all others.
“I’ll lead five of you to the surface.” Valerian wondered what kind of world waited on the other side of the portal. Dangerous, no doubt. “We’ll go in, find as many women as possible as fast as possible and return with those who wish to follow us.”
Joachim’s dark brows knit. “Why don’t we simply take the women we want? Why must we give them a choice?”
“We aren’t dragons.” In other words, they weren’t barbarians.
“Well. My ravishment of you can be postponed, it seems.” The dryness of Dorian’s tone failed to mask his excitement.
Broderick frowned. “What if human females want nothing to do with us?”
Laughter erupted.
Grinning, Valerian patted him on the shoulder. “Good one.”
Broderick’s frown melted, revealing a smile. He snickered. “I thought so.”
“How will we decide who beds whom?” Shivawn asked.
“My elite will go first, from the highest ranked to the lowest.” The elite had fought in more wars, were stronger, faster and needed sex more than an average solider. “I have no need to choose, of course.”
Broderick rubbed his hands together. “How soon can we leave?”
There was no reason to wait and every reason to hurry. “We leave now.”
CHAPTER TWO
A BAREFOOT BAY destination wedding. Complete with a wide expanse of glistening beach, crashing cerulean waves, a magical pink-gold sunset and a warm, sultry breeze. White rose petals formed a line along the fine-grained sand; as the wind blew, a few of those petals danced and twirled away. The couple even now pledging their undying love stared deeply into each other’s eyes, their hands clutched tightly, their lips parted in expectation of the coming kiss.
They presented a beautiful sight—but Shaye Holling only wanted to gag.
However, she maintained her smile, brittle though it was, and fought the urge to adjust her ill-fitting seashell bikini top. The grass skirt itched her calves.
The more horrid-looking the bridesmaids, the more exquisite the bride, eh?
Thanks, Mom.
Yep. Her mother was the bride.
Shaye shifted uncomfortably, her shoulders burning. She’d been standing in the sunlight for only half an hour, but her ultrapale skin had already turned a lovely shade of lobster red.
In fact, the richly dressed crowd of onlookers no longer eyed the bride and groom. Instead, they stared at Shaye.
And why not? Red skin. White hair. Brown eyes. Blue seashells. Green skirt. I’m a freaking rainbow.
She shifted again and dang it, her seashells dipped, forcing her to adjust.
Silver lining: a new idea for her business, Anti-Cards, popped into her mind.
Thank you from the bottom of my heart. Because of you, I found religion. I finally believe in hell.
She sighed. Her mother’s long silvery-white hair—so like Shaye’s own—waved down her back, a perfect mimic of the creamy satin slip dress billowing at her ankles. Nowhere was there a woman more gorgeous than Tamara soon-to-be Waddell. No one more surgically enhanced. No one else who went through men like sexual Kleenex.
Okay. There was probably someone else who went through men like sexual Kleenex. But come on! This was her mom’s sixth marriage.
Tamara looked over at her and frowned. Back straight, Shaye, she mouthed. Smile.
A straight back displays your breasts to their best advantage, Shaye.
A smile is honey and men are flies, Shaye.