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