Gena Showalter Bundle: The Stone Prince / The Pleasure Slave / Heart of the Dragon
She tentatively reached out and touched the largest globe, surprised to find the sphere firm and warm. At the moment of contact, vivid pictures flashed in her mind like the click of a camera. She gasped. Crystal castles stretched to the violet-and-pink skyline. Majestic, dragonlike creatures soared from cloud to cloud. Trees arched in every direction, heavy with brilliant sapphire and diamond-colored fruit. Most beautiful of all were the blankets of white grass that billowed with a gentle, dew-kissed breeze.
His expression tightened, as if he were using every ounce of his strength to maintain the image above his palm, but the globes began to waver, then disappeared altogether. His hand dropped to his side.
Oh. My. God. He’d been telling the truth. Magic. A cold shiver raked her, freezing her limbs. No mortal man could conjure such a wondrous apparition. And no earthly man could change from stone to flesh in less than a heartbeat.
“You have magic powers, and you’re an alien.” She blinked, then blinked again. Images of spaceships and bedlam danced through her head. “You’re an alien, and you have magic powers.” Maybe if she said it a thousand times, her shock would melt away. “You’re an alien. An alien with magic powers.”
When he didn’t respond, she added, “You don’t look like a creature from another planet.” Really, what else could she say? Her mind had yet to return from hiatus.
“Just what does a creature from another planet look like?” he asked.
“Green skin, a long, slimy body and large black eyes that look at you as if you need to be laid out flat on a table with a probe slowly working its way toward parts of your body that don’t bear mentioning.”
“I have encountered one race who looks as you’ve described.” He shrugged. “They travel from world to world searching for knowledge and enlightenment.”
“On spaceships?”
“Aye.”
She shivered, never wanting to come face-to-face with the “enlightened” race. But Lord, had she ever thought to come in contact with any otherworldly being? NO! “How did you travel here?” Katie mentally patted herself on the back. Here she was, conversing quite rationally with an alien, not lying on the ground in a dead faint.
His lips thinned. “My mother sought to aid me,” he replied tightly, “and opened a vortex that sent me from my world to yours.”
Her gaze darted around the maze, cataloging the other statues. Had they all been sent from another world? Were they all aliens just waiting for her kiss so that they could come alive?
The warrior in front of her chuckled, as if hearing her unspoken question. Or maybe she’d spoken it aloud. At this point, Katie wasn’t sure what she was doing, saying or thinking.
“I am the only one,” he assured her. “The others are merely stone.”
Her shoulders slumped with relief. Lord knew her body systems couldn’t take another male like—She drew a blank. “What’s your name?”
“I am Jorlan en Sarr. Once the first in command of Great-Lord Gui-en Sarr’s army.” With a proud tilt of his chin, he crossed his arms over the solid wall of his chest.
“Well, I’m Katie James, first in command of James Real Estate.”
“Katie.” He said her name differently than she’d ever heard it, halting over each syllable and prolonging the a and e. Kaay-tee. He nodded with approval. “Similar to katya. Such a name well suits you.”
For some insane reason, she was pleased that he thought so.
Just then, a night wind drifted by, causing his nipples to pebble. Katie was proud of herself for noticing because that meant she hadn’t been looking down south.
“You know,” she said, “it’s just occurred to me that we can continue this conversation inside the house. You must be cold.” The best thing about going inside was that she could cover his nakedness with a sheet. That, in turn, would stifle her growing attraction to him.
Good God, she was lusting after an alien.
At least he isn’t a psycho killer, whispered beneath her thoughts.
“You are not cold,” he said, “and yet you are wearing practically nothing.”
“I’m wearing a tank top and jean shorts. Perfectly decent attire.”
“I am attired as Elliea intended.”
“But—”
“Lest you forget, I would have your word that you will help me locate a sorcerer at tomorrow’s dawning.”
Another breeze blew by, and this time she was looking down south. Her cheeks heated.
“Well?” Jorlan asked. Obviously patience was not one of his virtues.
“It’s hard to concentrate when you’re—” she searched her mind for the proper word “—waving around like that. For God’s sake cover yourself.”
He glanced down at his nude form and shrugged, completely unabashed. “The male body is nothing to be ashamed of, katya. Best you become used to mine very quickly.”
Just what was he implying? That he would never wear clothes in her presence? Or that he planned to make hot, dirty monkey love to her whether she granted permission or not, so she should become accustomed to his size? Either way, he would damn well put on some clothes!
“I give you my word I’ll take you to a psychic tomorrow. Happy now?”
“Nay.” His chin tilted to the side, and he worried one hand over his jawbone. His eyes were guarded, waiting. He resembled a man about to encounter a dangerous storm. “Women cannot be trusted to honor their word.”
Katie snorted. She wanted to ask him why he’d sought her promise at all since he never intended to believe her. She rolled her eyes instead. “You’re lucky I’m feeling gracious, Jordie. I’m going to allow you to live after making such a chauvinistic remark.”
He frowned.
She grinned. “Now let’s hustle inside. Unless, of course, you plan to break your word.”
“Only a dishonorable man would do so. Not I,” he ground out, his tone iron-hard.
“Really? Well, I believe the deal was that if I gave you my solemn oath to take you to a sorcerer tomorrow…which I did…you would go inside…but there you stand. Hmm, what can that mean?”
His frown became a fierce scowl.
Good. She’d made her point, though why she was goading him, she didn’t know. She did know she was beginning to feel safe in his presence. Odd, but true.
“After you.” She waved him ahead, partly to watch the way his butt moved as he walked, and partly because she didn’t want him behind her. Although, as she followed behind him, she realized she didn’t like the submissive implication that scenario provided.
He threw her a glance over his shoulder, a wicked gleam darkening his irises to a smoky blue. “Mayhap next time you can return the favor and stroll naked in front of me.”
Not even if he was dying and that was the only way to save him.
The closer they came to the house, the more she realized this man was her responsibility. He might taste sweeter than chocolate ice cream on a sizzling hot day. He might be planning to seduce her so she would learn her “proper place.” (That one still had the power to infuriate her.) And he might be a warrior used to control. But she had kissed him. She had set him free, and that meant his well-being, for a while, at least, fell on her shoulders.
Inside, she watched Jorlan dart about, inspecting the splintered wood, wallpaper samples and tools that were scattered throughout. Katie snatched a paint-splattered sheet from the floor and wrapped it around his shoulders. He didn’t acknowledge her action. Fortunately, his lack of attention didn’t dislodge the sheet. Unfortunately, the colorful linen did little to detract from his masculinity. He could have held a box of tampons in one hand and a purse in the other and still she would not doubt his virility.
“If we’re from different worlds,” she asked, “how do you know my language?”
“Think you I could not conquer your primitive language whilst I whiled away the last few centuries?” He sounded angry, offended and amused all at once.
She opened her mouth to explain she hadn’t doubted his intelligence, that she’d merely wondered if that, too, was through magic, but she said instead, “If you’re smart enough to learn an entire language, what kind of mental block kept you from learning about women’s liberation?”
“I learned about equal rights and other such nonsense, but what I learned was not what you would like. I learned that your world order began to decline the moment your men lost their warrior instincts.”
“Well, maybe you just didn’t have the right teachers.” Her fists clenched. “Let’s go into the living room and I’ll teach you a thing or two about feminine power.”
At last he turned those startling blue eyes to her. “When I go into this ‘living room’ with you, it will not be for conversation.”
Change of plan. “Are you thirsty?” she rushed out, then didn’t wait for his answer when she said, “Of course you are. You’ve been unable to drink since the Stone Age. I’ll get you something. I have a cooler in my truck.” With that, she raced into the cool night air.
He softly chuckled, and his whispered words, “There is no escape from me this eve,” followed her the entire way to her vehicle.
CHAPTER THREE
JORLAN EN SARR FELT his lips kick up in a smile as he watched the little witch scamper away. And she was a witch, whether she denied it or not, for she had heard his voice, had felt his urgency, while he resided inside the stone—something no other woman had done during his thousand spans of confinement.
His smile continued to grow as he imagined her doing to his flesh what she’d done to his stone casing. He was a male, after all. A healthy, lusty male, at that, and it had been too long since his last coupling. But then, suddenly, his amusement faltered. His expression went flat. As distracting as little Katie was with her flashing amber eyes and touch me/do not touch me demeanor, she could not overshadow his primary focus: total, complete freedom. Total, complete vengeance.
Many centuries had passed since the eve his curse had been spoken into existence, yet his need to rid the galaxies of Percen de Locke, to punish his brother in the most painful way possible, had only grown and festered until it became a bone-deep wound. Over the spans Jorlan had stroked the wound like a lover, embracing his need for vengeance with single-minded intent. Release.
He did not care why his brother, the most powerful sorcerer in all of Imperia, had cursed him to a life of misery and desolation. Nay, he cared only about striking the bastard down. Under the right circumstances, a sorcerer could live for eternity, sustained by magic. Jorlan’s own mother was a former priestess of the Druinn and had seen over fourteen centuries.
Besides that, time flowed differently upon each world. A thousand years had passed here, yet how many eves, seasons, or spans had passed on Imperia?
It didn’t matter. De Locke was still alive. Jorlan knew it, felt it.
Vengeance would be his.
Just thinking about the cries of mercy he would incite and ignore brought a sense of anticipation that released his muscles from their viselike clasp. Even more than the joy of revenge, however, was the joy of returning home. Tomorrow Katie would lead him to a sorcerer—psychic, her world called them—and he would use that person’s power to send himself through the cosmos. Home. By Elliea, had he ever thought to return a free man? Dreamed, aye. But never had he truly believed. Until now.
Upon first realizing the stone had dissipated, Jorlan had forgotten all thoughts but those of home and had attempted a spell to open a vortex. That spell had promptly failed, for his powers were, and had always been, unstable. He was glad, though, that he was still here, for he had yet to accomplish the second requirement of his brother’s spell. Katie might have set him free with her kiss, but his freedom lasted only a short while. Only fourteen days. Unless and until he made her fall in love with him. ’Twas a cruelty on his brother’s part, and the only way to forever free himself.
I will not return to stone, he vowed darkly. Nay, he would do whatever was necessary to prevent the curse from claiming him once again. Even seduce and leave the lovely Katie, for how else to win a woman’s heart than to bed her?
Jorlan knew Katie desired him, and he did not think it would take more than this one night to woo her. He would simply give her the greatest sensual pleasure she’d ever known. No woman, save those with no heart to give, could guard themselves against such an assault. He had experience with the heartless variety, and knew from watching Katie these last cycles that she was nothing like Maylyn, a heartless wench to be sure, and the only woman he’d ever been foolish enough to love.
Drawing in a deep breath, he imagined the air laden with the majestic scents of Imperia. There was no other land that branded its essence onto a man’s innermost being, almost as if the very foundation was an old, dear friend. There was no other land that filled the void inside him. No other ruled by mystical principles, where magic was lauded and male domination accepted.
In that moment, Jorlan was filled with a sense of desperation, of longing more intense than a bolt of lightning. No doubt this night would stretch the length of eternity. Scowling now, he whipped away the cloth that draped his shoulders. The soft material whooshed to the floor. Using physical activity as an outlet for his emotions, he worked the lingering stiffness from his limbs. At first his movements were clipped and unsure. But as blood rushed through his veins, reminding him that he truly lived, his riotous emotions calmed, as did his gestures.
“I’m back,” Katie called a bit later, her tone hesitant, yet laden with forced gaiety. She marched into the unfurnished chamber holding two red containers.
Jorlan stilled. Through half-lowered lids he watched her legs close the remaining distance between them. She had the legs of a warrior maiden: long, slender, firm, the kind that wrapped around a man’s waist and held on till the end of the ride. The thought caused every inch of him to harden. Seducing her would be no burden. In fact, he was more than ready, more than willing, to begin. Human contact had been denied him for far too long.
When Katie had strolled in the garden for the first time, he hadn’t been curious enough about her to truly notice her. Aye, he had desired her kiss to set him free, yet he hadn’t cared about the woman herself. Too many females had passed and ignored him for him to place any hope on another. But this one hadn’t ignored him, and he realized now that he was all too interested in the woman herself. She truly was a vision, and as he continued to study her, something long forgotten stirred within him. Something…tender.
He mentally cursed himself. By all that was holy, he would not feel anything tender for this woman. Nay, he would allow himself to feel nothing deeper than arousal. When a man allowed himself to feel anything more, he opened himself up to hurt and betrayal.
Looking nervous and unsure, Katie flipped her ponytail to one side. The action reminded him of how she’d tossed him to the ground as if he were an insignificant pest, a feat no other woman (or man, for that matter) had ever done. What skill she possessed! What strength. He imagined all that energy beneath him. Above him. Beside him. Around him. Yet she claimed she wanted nothing to do with him sexually. Well, he would just have to use every ounce of his seductive prowess to make her forget her misgivings. He grinned slowly. Her seduction, and subsequent avowal of love, was a much-needed challenge and would most assuredly help the night pass more quickly. Also, her seduction would aid him with his vengeance quest, for what man could think clearly when his cock begged for attention?
She came to a sudden halt, no longer appearing nervous. Nay, she appeared furious. “What are you staring at?”
“You.” And he continued to do so. She did not have the boyishly slender hips he’d seen on other women of her world. Katie’s body was curvy, sweetly rounded in all the right places, and inherently female. The succulent swells of her breasts and the generous curve of her waist fit perfectly with her unusual height.
“Stop that right now,” she demanded. “You’re staring at me like I’m a candy bar, and you haven’t eaten in a year.”
“I will stop when I am finished and not a moment sooner.” Right now she wore a thin top covering and a pair of cropped blue drocs—jean shorts, she had called them. The luscious skin of her neck, collarbone, arms and legs was left uncovered for his perusal, and peruse her—all of her—he did. So thoroughly, in fact, that he counted eighteen freckles atop each shoulder.
Did she have freckles hidden elsewhere?
Most of her hair was scraped back, yet a few pale tendrils spilled free like warm shimmers of sunlight. Not a single curl or wave marred the straight perfection of each strand. He suddenly longed to comb his fingers through the thick, silky mass, to spread its heaviness across his pillow.
Her features were not beautiful in a traditional sense. Nay, they were different, exotically sensual, carnally alluring. She had high cheekbones, a pert, up-tilted nose, and large amber-colored eyes framed by thick, sooty lashes. Those eyes slanted upward, giving her a permanent take-me-to-bed expression. And her lips…by Elliea, the more he studied them the more he imagined them all over his body. Her lips were lush, pink, and full enough to launch an army into war for a single kiss.
Just then that mouth parted with shock. She stepped directly in front of him, her face becoming a comical etching of incredulity, awe and embarrassment. “I thought you understood that you absolutely must wear the sheet.” Even her voice appealed to him, sweet and husky. “You can’t just go around naked. You’ll be arrested for indecent exposure.”
Unconcerned, he crossed his arms over his chest. The woman seemed to think it was her right, nay, her duty, to snap retorts and issue orders. While he applauded her spirit, he certainly resented her lack of respect. He was a warrior first and foremost, and a warrior did not take orders. A warrior gave them. “I am still waiting to hear you utter the word please.”
She surprised him by shouting, “Just put on the damn sheet before I drop you on the ground again!”
He scowled. Best she learn now with whom she dealt! “You will ask me nicely, woman, and mayhap if I am feeling gracious, I will wear the damn sheet. If I am not feeling gracious, there is no power strong enough to force me to wear it.” ’Twas not the way to seduce a woman, he knew, but it was becoming more and more clear to him that this particular woman was in dire need of masculine guidance—his guidance—before the actual loving could begin.
Surely the males of her world would thank him.
She bared her teeth in a scowl of her own. “I will not ask nicely. You will simply bend down, pick up the sheet, and wrap it around your waist because it is the polite thing to do. You are, after all, standing inside my home.”
He ignored her. She stomped her foot. He almost laughed aloud, then, for who would have thought an inability to manage him would cause such a purely feminine reaction in one so warriorlike? “I hope you enjoy the view, katya, for you will be seeing it all night.”
Silence.
Then, “Nicely,” she ground out.
His lips twitched. What an amusing little imp she was. “With such a sweet concession, how could I refuse?” He retrieved the linen and, just to provoke her, secured it low on his hips—low enough to hint at what stirred underneath.
“Here, drink your strawberry soda and shut up.” Mutinous, she tossed him a container.
He easily caught it, though he never removed his gaze from her. He had won their contest of wills, and yet she still issued commands. How was one supposed to react to such a tyrannical disposition in a female? If Katie were a man, he knew exactly how he’d react: talon slicing downward to silence the offender. “If you speak to me that way again, little witch, I will personally silence you—with my tongue.”
She gasped.
He nodded, satisfied she’d been properly intimidated. He thought now she would act as she ought. Mayhap he should have known better.
“That’s the second threat you’ve made about your tongue,” she growled. “Just so you know, if you come near me with it, I’ll bite it off.”
Instead of reprimanding her yet again, Jorlan remained silent, deciding instead to pretend she hadn’t spoken. She was obviously confused and upset by his sudden appearance in her life, and knew not how to handle her emotions. But this was absolutely the last time he would allow her to speak to him so insolently without punishment.
That decided, he scrutinized every angle of his “soda” thoughtfully. The metal was a shiny alloy unfamiliar to him. Not knowing how to drink from it, he waved his hand in a circle above the container and uttered a spell. “Open now, this you will. Open now, and be unsealed.”
Bang.
Katie screamed and clasped a hand over her heart. Red liquid rained upon them like a summer storm. Several droplets clung to his face and neck, while others latched onto the hairs under his navel. Most of the liquid splattered atop Katie’s head, streaking her hair.
“Why did you do that?” she demanded, running a hand through the now reddish-blond locks.
“I was thirsty.” Using the linen’s hem, he tamped down his irritation and quickly wiped away the evidence of his spell gone awry. All of his life, magic had swirled within him. However, he should know better than to attempt any type of spell, for he’d learned at an early age that he held no control over the force of his power—a fact that bothered him greatly and sorely bruised his pride.
“Next time ask me to help you, okay? My heart can’t take another scare tonight.” Katie popped the top of her container and handed it to him. “Here. You can have mine. I’m not really thirsty, anyway.”
He set his decimated beverage aside and accepted what she offered. Tentatively he sipped. The delicious elixir moved down his throat, and he relished the taste. “’Tis worthy enough for a king’s table,” he said, awed. “What other culinary wonders does this cursed world possess?”
“Lots of things.” She hooked errant strands of hair behind her ear. “Chocolate. French fries. Cheesecake.”
Jorlan’s stomach rumbled. He knew nothing about the items she had named, yet each one sounded like ambrosia to his overly starved body. Their lovemaking could come after he’d eaten. “You will prepare each item for me.”
Her sandy-colored eyebrows drew together. “Is that so?”
“Aye. ’Tisso.” He nodded to assure her he meant what he said.
“Well, guess what? I promised to take you to a psychic tomorrow, nothing else.”
“I am hungry, woman.”
She rolled her eyes, something she did often in his presence. “I’m really not in the mood for whine this evening, thank you very much, so just stop. I’m not your personal chef and that’s the end of it.”
“Seeing to a man’s needs—all of his needs—is a woman’s only purpose in life.”
“You’re kidding me, right?”
“Nay. I would never jest about a woman’s duties.”
“I’m just sure you wouldn’t.” She lost her look of amused tolerance, looking instead like a determined woman on a mission: death to every male within sniffing distance. “Let me explain something to you, Jordie. You’re—”
“Jorlan.” He did not like it when she shortened his name and used that impertinent tone, making “Jordie” sound like something she would call a bothersome child.
She continued on as if he hadn’t spoken. “You’re out of luck, Jordie, because I don’t cook, and even if I did, there are no supplies here.”
“You will provide me with a weapon to hunt our food, or you will provide me with your world’s cuisine. Nothing else is acceptable.”
Arms akimbo, she dug her fists into her sides.
She had to relent, he assured himself, for he, a fierce Imperian warrior, had just issued a direct order.
“How did you survive as stone if you couldn’t eat?” she asked calmly.
“’Tis no concern of yours.”