She hesitated a moment. The idea appealed to her. No denying that. Most of her problems would die with her ex. His continued threats. Her fear of every shadow and unexplained noise. Her inability to date another man, certain her ex would harm him out of spite. Not that she wanted to date. But how could she justify such an action?
Killing Ethan would be an act of hate. Would make her as despicable as he was.
So. She forced herself to shake her head.
"Power is good," he said, his voice nothing but smoke and gravel. "Hurting a woman is not." His eyelids drifted closed...
He pried them open. Determined to stay awake?
She didn't know whether he believed what he'd said or not. Either way, he struck her as someone who would be uncontrollable in the midst of a rage. After today's sword fight...
"What's your name?" he asked.
"Brenna."
"Brenna," he said, as if he savored the sound on his tongue. An instant later, his mouth pulled tight in a grim line. Fury darkened his eyes, churning like a violent sea. "Where is Shivawn?"
She found herself rising from the bed, trembling. In the blink of an eye, he'd become angry. Why? What had she done?
He frowned as his eyelids dipped shut once more. "Why are you backing away from me, woman? Are you going back to your lover?" The last was said with a sneer.
Before he could rise from the bed to grab her, she turned and fled the room, unsure where to go. Only knowing she had to leave this place. Had to leave him.
"FOLLOW HER," JOACHIM commanded. "Make sure she arrives at her destination safely."
"You had best watch who you order about," the warrior posted at his door growled-before doing as commanded and taking off after Brenna.
He cursed. He'd never felt so powerless, and the feeling infuriated him. He didn't want her to be with Shivawn. He wanted her here. With him. Wanted her to talk to him and touch his brow again.
Had he been able, he would have vaulted from the bed and forced her to return. He was master here.
You are master of no one. You can't even govern yourself.
He'd let anger drive her away before he could comfort her for the horrors of her past. Before he'd thanked her properly for taking such good care of him.
She had feared his anger. He'd seen it in her eyes.
Now Shivawn would have the privilege of comforting her.
Joachim wanted to blame Valerian for this predicament, but he couldn't. He'd issued the challenge, and his cousin had beaten him fairly. As a man who valued power above all else, he respected Valerian's win.
And, at the moment, he understood his cousin's need for the pale woman...understood his willingness to do anything to keep her.
Just then, Joachim would have done anything to have Brenna.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
DESIRE PLAGUED VALERIAN as he stormed into the dining hall. The worst desire of his life. And the best. Wooing was hard. Literally! But he'd made progress with Shaye. He knew it. They'd talked, gotten to know each other better-her primary objection to his courtship would soon be obliterated entirely-and even flirted with each other. She'd laughed. She'd enjoyed his company.
There at the end, she'd forgotten to keep him at a distance. She'd opened up and let him in. At least emotionally.
Soon she would trust him fully. Physically. Until then, he just had to survive. And he would. Because she would kiss him again.
Their kiss...
She'd erupted, become a living spark. She hadn't hidden her desire but had reveled in it. Her body had burned for his, desperate for him to quench her sexual thirst.
Only thing to do now was drink himself into oblivion.
He halted when he spied Shivawn at the table, a different flask in each hand. The man already possessed red, glassy eyes and wobbled in his chair.
Shivawn was young, nearing one hundred years of age. A babe, really, when compared to Valerian's six hundred three. Shivawn was a strong warrior, though, and swift on his feet. He'd never hesitated to render a deathblow when necessary. In fact, whenever an enemy required torturing, Shivawn had often volunteered for the job.
Good man, that.
However, Shivawn could be impulsive, allowing his emotions to lead him.
Emotions were unreliable. They changed often and rarely offered a clear-or truthful-picture about circumstances.
Perhaps Shivawn preferred emotion to logic because his father had been as cold as ice, utterly without emotion. Very much like Valerian's own father.
Both males had died while battling demons who'd claimed to be allies, only to change their minds directly after peace talks; they'd slaughtered every nymph present.
Such was the way with demons.
While nymphs strengthened through sex-pleasure-demons strengthened through death-sorrow.
Babe that Valerian had been, he'd rallied the army and attacked the demon camp the very next day. Rivers of blood had spilled. Demon blood.