Gena Showalter Bundle: The Stone Prince / The Pleasure Slave / Heart of the Dragon

And that was just so much better, she thought dryly. “You’re a romantic at heart, Jordie. You truly are. And now I’m done with this conversation.” Katie strode to her coffee table and jabbed the play button on her answering machine.

“Hey, sis. I’m going out of town for a few days and wanted to know if I could borrow your—”

Her brother’s voice jammed to a halt when Jorlan leapt across the room and pounded the little black box into a thousand tiny pieces.

“Joorlann,” she drew out. “Why did you do that?”

“I sensed no magic from the box and yet it spoke.” He stared down at the shattered box as if expecting the pieces to somehow reattach themselves and attack. “The device must be mighty indeed to hide such power.”

“Voice recording isn’t magical.”

He made no reply, no body movement to indicate that he’d heard her.

“From now on, if you don’t understand something, ask me about it.”

Now he gave her a you-silly-little-girl frown. “Taking time to ask questions can give the enemy an opportunity to attack.”

“My answering machine is not your enemy!”

“Not anymore,” he answered smugly.

“Damn it, Jorlan. You can’t just destroy my things. You have to—damn it,” she said again. “You made me cuss.” Katie reached inside her pocket and handed him two quarters. At his questioning eyebrow lift, she explained her quest to speak more like a lady.

He chuckled. “You owe me more than this.” He pinched the change between his fingers and held it up for inspection. “Since the moment you first kissed me, your many expletives have nigh singed my ears.”

Do not think about kissing him. Do not think about kissing him. “Anything I said in the garden doesn’t count. I was in the middle of a crisis situation.”

“Crisis situation or no, I still recall your words to me, just before you wrapped your palm around my—”

“That’s enough.” He wasn’t speaking of curses now; he was speaking about her midnight confession. Damn it, you’ve invaded my fantasies, is what she believed she’d said. “I’m sure you misheard. And for your information, touching your…Well, it was an accident.” Before he could add anything else, she said, “Look how late it’s gotten.” Katie pretended to study her wristwatch, only to realize she wasn’t wearing a watch. “Are you ready for bed?” Wrong question.

“I have been ready for some time.” His gaze raked over her with enough heat to incinerate her. “I am still ready.”

Yes, you are, she thought with a sigh. But this situation called for direct negation, not you-have-a-beautiful-body-and-I-could-lick-you-all-over remembrances. Before she could make a caustic remark, Jorlan spoke again.

“I would like to bathe ere I…sleep.” He hesitated over the word “sleep” long enough to make her anticipate “make love to you.”

Gulping, Katie led Jorlan to the bathroom and showed him how to work the knobs. “Place a small drop of shampoo into your hand and lather the bubbles through your hair. If you get it into your eyes…” Her voice tapered to a close, for as she spoke Jorlan gripped the hem of his shirt and pulled the material over his head. “Uh, don’t get any suds in your eyes or they’ll burn so badly you’ll want me to pluck them out. And I might just accommodate you.”

The shirt whooshed to the floor.

She’d seen his chest before—and a whole lot more—but that didn’t seem to matter. Each time she saw his beautifully tanned skin, she had the same reaction. Heat. Fiery heat that erupted into flames. Self-preservation kicked into gear this time and kept her hormones under control.

I have to stop reacting to him like this.

“I would willingly place these suds in my eyes,” he said low and honeyed, “if I knew you would kiss away the pain.”

“And I will forcefully put suds in your eyes if you don’t stop that.”

His chuckle swam over her like a caress, soft and wonderfully erotic. “This I might allow did you press your body against me to do it.”

She ignored that comment, as well as the fluttering in her stomach. “When you’re finished, turn the water off and put your sweats back on. And if you didn’t understand that, let me put it another way. Do not leave this bathroom without getting redressed.” All the basics covered, she raced to the door.

“You do not have my permission to leave.” With the stealth of a trained military man, he moved in front of her, halting her just before escape.

Her back went ramrod-straight. “I don’t need your permission for anything.”

“You are a woman,” he explained.

“You’re very observant, aren’t you?”

He sighed. “You must wash my back.”

“Wash your own back.” Katie inched forward another step. Another. And another. Almost there. If he would just move out of the way…

“As it is clear to me that you do not understand, I will explain another way. My muscles are still stiff from my confinement and require the gentle touch of a female.”

“I’m not touching your back for any reason because I know you’ll consider that part of your rule adjustment. I’ll find myself naked and in the tub with you.”

His long, spiky lashes swept down in a slow, alluring appraisal. “Would that be so bad?”

“Yes!”

He leaned against the door frame and smiled. “I can promise you that you will enjoy every moment.”

“I’m sure you can, but I’m still not interested.” She pushed past him and closed the door firmly behind her. Alone in the hall, she tried not to imagine all that glorious skin covered with glistening soap bubbles.

She failed.

He emerged half an hour later on a cloud of steam. A clean and fresh floral scent enveloped him. Fortunately, he was wearing his pants. Unfortunately, he was not wearing his shirt, and he was, without a doubt, one hundred percent pure Imperian beef. Droplets of water trickled from his hair and down his rippled chest, pooling in his navel. Her mouth went dry, and she wanted so desperately to lick the moisture from his skin.

Lord, when had she become such a sexual creature?

“All of your ‘shampoo’ was scented for a woman,” he accused.

And for seduction, she silently added, “Are you still hungry?” The words emerged as a croak.

He perked up. “You will feed me?”

“Sure. Why not?” They adjourned to the kitchen, and Katie used that time to cool her mounting desire. All the while doing subtle, deep breathing exercises, she gathered the necessary items for a turkey sandwich. She knew how to cook, very nicely, too. But she hadn’t actually baked a meal since leaving her father’s home at the age of eighteen. A small rebellion, she supposed, for all the years she had slaved over breakfast, lunch and dinner for the men of the house.

“I’m not your personal chef,” she told Jorlan, “so pay attention. Next time, you’re on your own. Are you watching?” Before he could answer, she began, working as she spoke. “Bread. Mayonnaise. Cheese. Turkey. Lettuce. Tomato. Bread. Got it?”

He nodded, and she handed him the sandwich. He ate the blasted thing as if he had never tasted anything so delicious in all his life. Definitely not a nibbler. In fact, he somehow made the simple act of chewing a passionate feat. His strong jaw moved quickly. Potent and intense.

Damn it! She needed to find something about him that turned her off. First Date Syndrome was preferable to Obsession Disease.

Jorlan fixed himself three more sandwiches.

“What are the houses in your world like?” she asked, sitting beside him.

He spoke in between bites, his eyes warm with remembrances. “They are much bigger than those offered here. The stones are more colorful, the chambers open and easily accessible. At times, it seems the sky dusts the floor.” He drained half a carton of milk, then leaned back in his chair with a satisfied grunt.

“Sounds beautiful.”

“’Tis indeed.”

“Come on. I’ll show you where you’ll be sleeping. Alone.”

“Your continued rejection humbles me.” The wry comment was delivered with an equally wry grin.

“Something needs to,” she muttered.

Walking through the hall, a sweet vanilla scent drifted to her nostrils. That was the only thing she liked about the place. The smell. Decorated with a contemporary slant, the interior was too bold, too modern, and lacked character. Instead of wood, the walls were trimmed with silver metal. Instead of carpet or paneling, the floors were covered with mosaic tile. Ceramic animal paws showcased all the light fixtures. She would have preferred a chandelier lit by hundreds of crystal prisms.

Katie knew she’d bought this home for all the wrong reasons. Her dad, who would have a fit if he knew a strange alien male was staying the night with her, believed only men could earn a living as home renovators—or anything else, for that matter. She’d wanted to prove to him that she, a woman, was a success at her business.

To this day, he refused to believe she earned her money on her own and hadn’t borrowed from her brothers.

Ryan James had been raised by the “old school” of thought. Men worked and earned money while women baked cookies, raised the kids and devoted their entire lives to pleasing their husbands. (Much like Jorlan’s perceptions.) Maybe that was why, sixteen years after becoming a widower, her dad still had yet to remarry. No sane woman would take him. He barked orders like a drill sergeant and expected total compliance from those around him.

As a child, that type of ideology could have easily crushed her spirit. Yet her brothers had sought to protect her from their father’s low expectations. They’d made her one of the boys, helped her don jeans and tennis shoes instead of lace and bows. She’d trailed their every step. She’d helped them catch frogs, stood by their sides and fished in a nearby pond, and held her own as they wrestled in the mud.

She and Jorlan reached the guest bedroom. “This is it,” she said, flipping the light switch. The room instantly brightened. “The bathroom, or chamber pot, or whatever you call it, is through the side door. It’s nothing as grand as what you described, but it’s comfortable and private.”

Entranced by the origin of light, Jorlan barely registered her words. With the tip of his finger, he lowered the silver switch. Darkness flooded the small area. When he raised the switch, light once again sprang from the overhead source.

“Again I sense no magic, and yet…” Up, down, up, down he continued to move the switch. “I would not have guessed your world capable of such things. First a talking box and now instant lighting.”

Katie chuckled, charmed by his bedazzlement with technology. “What does your world use for light?”

“Lamori gems.”

“Are they magic?”

“Nay, they are alive.”

She did not even want to contemplate living stones.

“Even on Imperia, a world of highly developed mystical abilities, no one has yet mastered magical lighting.”

“We haven’t either. We rely on electricity.”

“I am unfamiliar with this word.” He flipped the light switch several more times.

How best to explain…“Electricity is a fundamental entity of nature consisting of negative and positive kinds composed respectively of electrons and protons.” She spouted Webster’s definition with ease. “This is observable in the attraction and repulsion of bodies electrified by friction and in natural phenomena.” Wires and power circuits were part of her business, after all, and God knows how many classes she’d taken on the subject.

On and off the light went.

“Does the room meet with your approval?”

“It will suffice. For now.” Jorlan released the little switch and surveyed his new chamber. The room offered ample space, but better yet, it provided the most important item in a man’s life beside his talon, his horri and his food. A bed—a bed Katie did not plan on making use of in the way Elliea had intended, he thought dryly, but a bed all the same.

“What do you mean ‘for now’?” she demanded.

He hid his amusement behind a bland expression. He had expected such a reply from this woman who continued to refuse all pleasures; he simply had not expected the reply delivered with such force. What a little vixen she continued to be, commanding and impudent.

Puzzling, too.

Since reaching his fourteenth season, women of every age, size and color had flocked to his bed, ready and willing to please him. Almost all had offered him their love, something he had humbly accepted without actually giving any of himself. Nay, he realized, that was a falsehood. He’d given Maylyn everything he had to give, including his heart. He’d been entranced with her dark, mesmerizing beauty, her willingness to please. Only later had he learned that she felt nothing for him in return, that she had merely done his brother’s bidding.

Still, Jorlan had always understood what drove Maylyn. Katie, he did not. Why did she grow more and more skittish each time he drew near? Too many possibilities sprang to mind.

A former unpleasant lover?

Misplaced modesty?

A need for commitment?

Which of these applied to Katie? All? None? If he knew, he could figure out how best to approach her. As it was, he was making no progress, and his body’s desire for contact, any feminine contact, was growing by the second, growing intense and all-consuming. All of his long repressed needs, needs that had nothing to do with at last breaking the curse, were hammering through him.

The smart thing to do would be to satisfy his body’s demands on his own, then pursue Katie. Mayhap he should even cease all talk of bed sport and concentrate this night on winning her friendship. He could always drown himself in a bevy of available female bodies once he returned to Imperia, a place where women were accommodating and willing to give of themselves without qualm. Willing to strip him naked and take him into their mouths and bodies while their own pleasure mounted.

His gaze slid down the length of Katie’s curves. In the chamber’s glorious light, her creamy skin glowed with health and vitality. Her shoulders sloped with captivating elegance, and her hips swelled with tempting allure. Nay, he decided. The way to win her was to pleasure her as he’d originally planned. Besides, he did not want to experience his release alone. He did not want to wait until reaching Imperia to have a woman. Right now, he wanted this woman, from this world. This night. Having all of Katie’s warriorlike passion at his disposal would nigh burn him alive, and he longed to burn. Burn, burn, burn.

Mayhap he could convince her to sleep beside him, for no female could resist the silent, seductive presence of a man during twilight. He grinned with anticipation. Just how would Katie respond to an accidental touch, a caress of warm breath, or a whisper of erotic promises?

She must have sensed the direction of his thoughts because she blurted out, “I have another rule!”

His hands tightened into fists. These rules were going to be the death of him. “You cannot add rules at your convenience, woman.”

“I can and I will. I’m in charge here.”

“That is debatable.”

“No, it isn’t.”

She glared up at him.

He glared in return. “I have decided to hear this new rule. You may speak.”

Katie absolutely did not like him when he used that I-am-male-therefore-I-decide-the-fate-of-the-world tone. She obeyed anyway and spoke. “Rule number four: no sharing beds.”

Surprisingly, he didn’t balk. Instead, he crossed his arms over his bronzed chest and said, “My adjustment to this rule is simple. I will not share your bed, but I will slumber in your room. And if this is not agreeable, I will simply knock down your door and share your bed without your permission.”

Argh! Far from being frightened by his threat, or even intimidated, Katie was infuriated—and just a bit aroused. “I’m not comfortable sharing a room with you.”

“Nevertheless, you will.” He arched a dark brow in challenge. “Or are you afraid of your reactions to me?”

Her eyes narrowed to tiny slits, and she stared at him, unflinching. “I’m not afraid of anything.”

“Then why not allow me inside your chamber?”

“Because I don’t trust you to stay on the floor!”

His shoulders puffed with indignation. “I have given you my word.”

“Well, I want a blood oath.”

Scowling, he ground out, “I vow to you here and now that I will not join you under the bedcovers this night. That does not mean you cannot join me on the floor.”

Why did he have to go and put such an idea into her head? She pointed a finger at his chest. “Do you swear by all that is holy that you won’t try anything?”

His nostrils flared, but his tone was quiet. Too quiet. “This I have already answered.”

No, he hadn’t. Not really. He’d promised only to stay on the floor. An image of his glorious body splayed out on her bedroom carpet filled her mind. Would she feel his heat? Hear the soft whoosh of his breath? Smell the clean scent of his skin?

She had lied to him a moment ago. She was afraid of her reactions to him. Very afraid. But despite her fear, she was going to let him stay in her room. Lord, she was. She was going to let him stay in her room.

Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, her brother Erik always said. Jorlan might not be her enemy, but he was damn sure on his way up her hit list. The man wouldn’t climb into her bed, but he’d issued a brilliantly orchestrated invitation: Join me.

If he thought for one minute she was giving in to that invitation, he’d soon find out that his erection was the last thing on her mind. Well, almost the last. Okay, she couldn’t stop thinking about the damn thing. It was huge.

I’m an idiot, she thought. “Just in case you get any ideas, know that I’ll be sleeping with a can of Mace in one hand and pepper spray in the other.”

His expression turned mocking. “Just in case you get any ideas, know that I’ll be sleeping with a feather in one hand and massage oil in the other.”

With those words ringing in her ears, Katie knew she wasn’t going to get much sleep. She massaged her temples in a vain effort to ward off the oncoming ache.

I’m in more trouble than I realized.

CHAPTER FIVE

“I’M IMAGINING EVERYTHING I long to do to you, katya. Are you imagining what you long to do to me?”

Oh, yes. Yes, she most definitely was imagining.

“In my mind I see my hands cupping your breasts and gently squeezing while my tongue lightly traces a path from one waiting nipple to the other.”

As it had for the past hour, Jorlan’s husky voice slid like a rasp of silk, low, sleek and honeyed, touching Katie in the darkness, leaving a sultry haven in its wake. Toasty warm, she lay in bed, a thick, downy comforter covering her. But it was the man sprawled on her floor that was responsible for her overheated blood, not her covers.

Katie tried to recall why she was so determined to resist him. She did have reasons, right? She just didn’t know anymore, and she wasn’t sure how much more she could take before she locked caution inside her panty drawer and caved. Jorlan’s passionate assault, which had begun long before he’d ever spoken to her, was quickly eradicating all of her defenses.

“Would you like to feel the heat of my tongue?”

To keep herself from blurting out YES!, she pursed her lips together so tightly she probably incurred permanent wrinkles. Why had she let Jorlan inside her room, anyway? And why for the love of God was she still in bed and not on the floor with him?

“Your back arches, a silent plea for my touch between your legs,” he continued mercilessly. “But I do not touch you there with my fingers. Nay, I kiss my way down your stomach and taste you with my mouth, letting my tongue flick left and right, then circle around, creating a hot, wet friction.”

“You promised you wouldn’t try anything!”

“I never promised I wouldn’t speak or imagine. And what I’m imagining right now is so very naughty. You’re lying—”

Dropping her can of Mace and pepper spray onto the mattress—which, in actuality, were a can of hairspray and a water bottle—she placed her palms over her ears, muffling his voice. She began snoring like an old man with a foghorn stuck in his throat. All the while she pictured bathroom tile and drying grout—anything to keep her mind from thinking about naked bodies and potent pleasures.

You never give me what I want, her body complained, and I want Jorlan.

Shut up, her mind demanded. You’ve gotten us in enough trouble!

Tile. Grout. Tile. Grout. With Jorlan’s voice blocked and her mind picturing drying tile grout, slowly, so slowly, her overly sensitized nerves calmed. The tingles of anticipation faded. When she felt enough time had lapsed, she let her snores taper off and removed her hands from her ears.

Blessed silence greeted her.

Then, as if he was acutely attuned to her every action, every feeling, every thought, Jorlan said, “Just say the words, katya. Say the words and I will give us both release.”

“I’ll say the words, all right.” Her nails dug deeply into the sides of her legs, leaving half moon crescents. “I’ll say shut up or get out. Please! We have to get up early, and it’s two in the morning already. After I take you to the psychic, I have to go to work. I need to rest.”

Five. Ten. Fifteen minutes passed. He didn’t speak again. She didn’t even hear him breathe.

In the mounting silence, Katie’s eyelids began to grow heavy. She gripped her hairspray once again, ready to leap off the bed and whack him over the head with it if he so much as whistled through his nose. After a while, her grip relaxed, and she rolled to her side. The last thought to drift through her mind before she ultimately succumbed to darkness was That man needs a muzzle, and I need a bare-assed spanking for letting him in here.

MORNING DAWNED bright and early. “Way too early,” Katie muttered. Then she groaned. Her eyes burned, and her head throbbed. She needed a protein shake or she would soon sink into a take-me-to-the-hospital-for-a-caffeine-IV coma.

Normally she jogged five miles a morning. Today, however, she was going to make an exception. At the moment, she couldn’t have jogged to the bathroom if her bladder depended on it.

The sheets and blankets were tangled around her like a butterfly’s cocoon. She grumbled under her breath as she battled her way free. Something thudded to the floor, but it wasn’t a protein shake, so she didn’t bend down to retrieve it. Rubbing her eyes, she stumbled into the bathroom.

She washed her face then brushed her teeth and hair. The features that looked at her from the mirror were glazed with…something. Tired. Very tired. Hoping hot, steamy water would help, she climbed into the shower. When she emerged, she tugged on her robe, feeling less groggy, but still craving a sweet fruity shake. Once her veins ran with enough B-12 to energize the retirees at Shady Meadows, she would be alert enough to deal with Jorlan.

Jorlan!

Katie’s eyes widened with dismay. How could she have forgotten about the sexy, six-foot-six-inch alien sleeping in her room? Heart pounding, white terry-cloth robe flying, she darted out of the bathroom; her gaze scanned the floor, but she saw only a can of hairspray.

Jorlan was gone.

The only reminder of his presence was the rumpled pillow and blanket tangled together in a heap at the foot of her bed. She grabbed some clothes from the closet and hastily pulled them on as she raced out of the room. She’d barely managed to zip her jeans when she stepped into the living room. No sign of her alien.

What if the mother ship had beamed him up? Worse, what if he was still here, in her house, going through her things? Katie’s stomach knotted as she envisioned laundry strewn across the floor and broken knickknacks scattered about. Through the dining room she went, as if hot coals simmered under her feet.

Then she saw him.

He stood in the kitchen, humming a song she didn’t recognize. His back was to her as he rifled through the contents of her fridge. A sigh of relief pushed past her lips when she noticed he was wearing the clothes she’d given him last night. Except now the shirt looked lumpy, and the pants were hanging low on his waist, teasing her, tantalizing her, because a slight brush of air might slip them to the floor….