The Stone Prince

SIX

EVERY MAN POSSESSED one fear, a fear that consumed him, could drive him to the brink of madness. Jorlan had just discovered his. Being trapped on this forsaken world for all eternity frightened him to the marrow of his bones. He’d known the possibility existed since the beginning of his curse. Yet now the realization weighed him down, more potent than ever before because he was finally free.

Free, but yet, not free.

He couldn’t go home until he won Katie’s love; that he accepted. He had only thirteen more days to win her; that he accepted, as well. But what he could not accept, did not want to accept, was the fact that no true sorcerer might dwell here, that there might be no means to return home when the time came.

He stood outside the false mystic’s dwelling, his legs braced apart, his arms locked behind his back and his muscles clenched. It was a warrior’s stance, one normally used just before battle as plans and strategies were formed.

This seemed the greatest battle of his life.

His first instinct had been correct. No magic resided in the House of Mysticism. He had known it before stepping inside, and he’d known it after. Yet he had foolishly clung to hope. Now he was forced to face the truth.

What manner of mystic studied a man’s hand to open a vortex? One without any true magic or ability, he answered darkly. The irony was that the fraud inside that shabby building had actually spoken some truth. He should possess enough power to take himself home. Magic dwelled inside him, so much magic—but ’twas a force he could not control, therefore, ’twas a force he could not reply upon. Curse it! A simple spell was all that was needed. A simple spell, yet hopelessly beyond his grasp.

He tried again, anyway. He closed his eyes, raised his arms high in the air, and uttered the needed words. As he spoke, the air around him swirled, swirled around and around, faster and faster, and then…stopped. He tried again. Nothing. Again. Nothing.

Each of his failures—with Katie, the psychic and his own powers—weighed heavily upon his shoulders. His arms dropped to his sides. Why did the magic and spells that came so easily to his mother’s people prove so difficult and oftentimes disastrous for him? Why? Did he possess too much physical strength, mayhap? Did his supernatural ability to hunt and destroy his enemies somehow weaken his magical ability? If so, he would gladly relinquish the gift, for what good did it do him when he could not even initiate battle with his greatest enemy?

Jorlan’s teeth ground together, and his breath scalded his throat. Pride demanded he at last avenge his loss of time, companionship and pleasure. Pride demanded…and yet still he could do nothing.

He uttered a dark, humorless laugh. The curse welcomed his frustration like an angry storm cloud welcomed a raving wind, both ever ready to unleash a torrent of sorrow and pain. Fists clenched, he fought for some measure of inner peace. One minute stretched to another, yet his struggle proved fruitless. He needed an outlet, something, anything to soothe the razor-sharp edges of his emotions.

A soft, gentle hand touched his shoulder. “Are you okay?” an even gentler voice asked. “I know that didn’t go the way you planned, and I’m sorry I brought you here, but we’ll find someone else. There were tons of names in the phone book, and I promise we’ll visit another psychic in the morning. I would take you now, but I’m afraid another failure would…” Katie’s words drifted to quiet. “I just think it would be better to wait until morning.”

He gazed down at her beautifully tapered fingers, at her pale skin against his own deeply tanned. For one raw moment, that touch made him feel as if he’d harbored his hate and resentment too long, as if he had nothing to fear. Yet he still craved an outlet, and she had just provided him with one. He drank in her loveliness, letting it soothe his inner wounds like a caress. “I warned you of the consequences did you touch me, katya,” he said, his tone deceptively soft.

She snatched her hand to her side. “Wh-what do you mean?”

“Touch me first, and I have the right to touch you in return. That you agreed upon.”

“You looked so upset—I didn’t mean—that was not an invitation!”

“Wasn’t it?” He spun to face her, took her forearms in his hands and hauled her to him. Chest to chest. Hardness to softness.

“Let go of me,” she told him heatedly, but she made no move to pull away. Nay, she sank more snugly into him. “Let me go,” she said again, this time with breathless surrender.

He didn’t want to let her go; he wanted to hold her so tightly against him she could only part her lips and cry out his name. She must have sensed his needs, for her gaze collided with his, amber eyes locked with blue. Neither glanced away.

“You will thank me for my refusal in just a moment.” He didn’t give her time to deny him. His fingers journeyed upward and tangled in her hair; he tugged her closer until not a breath of air separated them. Then he ravaged her there in the morning sunlight where anyone could see them, where anyone could hear them. Over and over he pushed his tongue past Katie’s teeth, stroked inside, took. Demanded.

For a moment, he thought she meant to resist, but Katie surprised him by uttering a low and needy moan. She opened for him completely, then moaned again. The sound washed over his body, fueling his need. Her ragged breath fanned his nose and his cheek as their tongues danced and sparred. The carnal fragrance of her filled his head, and he thought to hold her in his arms for all the days of his life.

Last eve he had wondered at her taste, and now he knew she tasted sweet and female, part soothing balm, part kindling. Would she taste the same between her legs? Just the thought of laving her there caused the fire inside him to rage—a fire that had nothing to do with his pain, his sorrow or his duty. Nay, he burned only for Katie, for her passion. Burned to take her breasts in his hands. Burned to suck her nipples into his mouth.

“This is what I wanted last eve,” he whispered hotly. “This is what I craved while I lay upon your floor, tightening my hand upon my cock, all the while imagining your touch instead.”

She whimpered.

He placed his hands upon her buttocks and lifted. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pressing her woman’s place against his erection. Up. Down. Up, he urged her, mimicking the motions of sex. She willingly arched back and forth. He ached to shove her drocs down and push deep inside her. He ached to feel her inner walls clench as she searched for release. He ached so fiercely, in fact, he decided not to wait, to take her now, inside the enchanted transportation. Aye, he had to feel her body surge with pleasure, had to watch her face light, watch her lips part. Give her one peak after the other.

Her tongue moved against his in sync with the motions of their bodies. He was shaking, oh, how he was shaking. His control was tethered on the brink of elimination. He’d never experienced anything quite like this, never experienced anything quite so intense. Jorlan told himself it didn’t matter that she affected him so strongly, but he was not foolish. Something was happening between them, growing. Something he needed to deny, but could not.

“I don’t think I’m ready for this,” she muttered into his lips. “But you feel so good it’s hard to think clearly.”

“If you must think,” he said, maneuvering them both to the vehicle, and tugging at her shirt all the while, “then think of how much pleasure I can give you.”

“I have,” she whispered. “I really have. I tried not to, but last night…”

“I’ve imagined, too. In my mind I pictured your nipples pink as little berries. Pictured the soft, pale curls that guard your essence.” As he spoke, he played with the areas in question.

“Jorlan, I—” Katie paused. Closed her eyes. Opened them.

In an instant of time, a mere heartbeat, the passionate haze evaporated from her features, leaving an expression that read: I’d rather burn in the fires of Hel la Fir than continue.

“No,” she said, pushing away. Her breath was ragged and unsteady. “No. We have to stop.”

Sweat beaded on his brow. “Is that truly what you want?” He knew it wasn’t and reached for her. One more kiss, one more touch, and he could send them both through the corridors of paradise.

With a squeal, she swatted his hands away. “Stop. We have to stop.” There was still a breathless, husky quality to her tone. “We’re outside in full view of the world, for God’s sake.”

He flashed his teeth in a scowl. “Did I not please you?” he demanded. “Did I not make your body hunger for more?”

Instead of answering his question, she said, “I’m sorry, but I’m not ready for this.”

“Give me two minutes, and I will make you ready.” He let his voice drop to a seductive whisper, a feat that required his full concentration. “Let me, katya. Let me have you, and I swear to Elliea you will enjoy every moment of it.” He’d never begged for anything in his life, but he was perilously close to dropping to his knees and pleading with her to accept him.

“I know I’ll enjoy every moment,” she breathed. “Believe me, I do.”

He thought he had her then; he even reached out and wrapped his palms around her waist, but she shook her head, darted away, and said gently, “No.” Then with more force, “No. Not here. And not now.”

He cursed under his breath. “Why do you fight so hard against what you feel?”

She glanced away. “I don’t think you truly want to hear my answer.”

“You will tell me anyway.”

“You want to know. Fine.” Anger sparked in her eyes, and she faced him again. “I’m not sure I even like you. You’re bossy and arrogant, and you refuse to answer the simplest questions about yourself unless I nag you.”

“Whatever you wish to know about me, I will gladly tell you. After.”

“No! Yesterday I was a necessary burden to you, and now I’m supposed to melt at your feet because you’re a great kisser? No!”

Jorlan shoved a hand through his hair. Women had their place. And this one belonged directly under him. Katie might deny her attraction to him, but he would spend every one of the next thirteen days overcoming such false resistance. And false it was, he had no doubt. The woman came alive in his arms, like a molten river erupting from a mountain.

But by the holy laws, such a contrary female annoyed him. Why couldn’t she be like the complacent, unassuming women he was used to? A woman who rarely strayed from what she was told? Jorlan knew how to deal with that type of female. But this one…

“You want me, katya. Think you I cannot smell your desire?”

Her jaw dropped. Closed with a snap. “What you’re smelling is last night’s turkey sandwich,” she growled. Then her face flushed with embarrassment, as if she couldn’t quite believe what she’d just said.

“If you use your tongue as expertly in bed as you do to turn me away, a man would die quite happily in your arms.” With barely a breath, he added crossly, “You do realize, do you not, that your stubbornness punishes us both?”

The golden amber of her eyes hardened with anger. “I could very easily toss you on your ass. Again! How’s that for punishment?”

“You are most welcome to try and fight me.” He almost wished she would, so that he could allow her to win. The thought of her standing over him, chest heaving…He sliced that image to a close, knowing it would do him no good now.

“Look,” she said, rubbing her temples. “I haven’t had my protein shake this morning, so I’m in a bad mood. Let’s just forget this ever happened and go eat breakfast. Like I said, we’ll find you another psychic tomorrow.”

Forget? Long would the image of her passion-glazed features remain in his mind. Long would the sweet taste of her linger in his mouth. Forgetting their kiss wasn’t an option for him, and it infuriated him that the little witch thought she could so easily push him from her thoughts. He almost ripped the clothes from her body then and there so that he could brand his touch upon her as she had done him—an eternal brand that would haunt her long after he’d left her.

“Nay,” he finally said. “We will search for another sorcerer now.”

“If you give me another day, I can do some research and hopefully we’ll bypass all the frauds.”

He watched her through lowered lids for a long while. “Very well. I will go with you to find nourishment, but do not think for one moment that I am finished with you. Next time, I will not release you until we are both weak with pleasure.”

UNTIL I’M ALONE, I will not think about our kiss. I will not think about our kiss.

Katie made her way through the restaurant, muttering those words under her breath with every step. Crackling voices and the tantalizing aroma of fresh, gourmet coffee wafted around her. Lights were dimmed for effect and the walls were painted a rich toffee brown.

She’d discovered the place the day she closed on the Victorian. She’d come here every morning since. The food was decent, the protein shakes divine and the employees entertaining.

She adored the place.

Frances, a middle-aged waitress who liked to bash the male species with anyone who would listen, was Katie’s favorite.

“Hey, doll,” Frances called when she noticed her. “I’ll be right with you.”

Katie slid into the only available booth. The shiny purple vinyl squeaked with the movement. Jorlan folded his long legs beside her, and scooted until their sides were touching. His weapon—aka: the spatula—had to be digging into his skin, but he was too entranced with the goings-on around him to notice the discomfort.

A family of four sat to their right, arguing over the need for chocolate this early in the morning. Katie agreed with the kids; there was never a bad time for chocolate. A silver-headed man was just in front of her, trying to eat his eggs and read his paper at the same time. It wasn’t working. To her left was a young woman who was a regular patron of the place. The girl was in her early twenties, had rumpled red hair, two dimples in her cheeks and breasts the size of watermelons. Katie’s own sun-ripe tomatoes paled in comparison, and she resisted the urge to slump her shoulders.

Today the girl wore a pair of baggy jeans and a plain, oversized T-shirt. Every couple of seconds, she shivered as if a block of ice surrounded her. Delicate and pretty, she should have radiated happiness. She didn’t. The lines of fatigue and sadness around her eyes and mouth made her appear ancient.

As if sensing her scrutiny, she sparked a glance in Katie’s direction. Their gazes collided. Dark-brown eyes narrowed a split second before the girl looked away. Then that chocolate gaze swung back to Katie, this time with purpose, and moved pointedly on to Jorlan. Something exotic and knowing flashed in the girl’s eyes, making her appear fresher and utterly beautiful. A foreign emotion swam through Katie as she turned in time to see Jorlan return the silent greeting.

Katie fisted her hands and stayed the urge to launch over the table, a catapult of kicking legs and swinging arms. Deep breath in; deep breath out. This isn’t jealousy, she assured herself. Jorlan was her responsibility, and she had to look out for his best interests.

“Do you know her?” Jorlan asked, indicating the brown-eyed girl.

“No. Why do you ask?” Katie’s hands flexed more tightly. A muscle cramp, nothing more.

Jorlan scratched a hand over the dark stubble covering his jaw. “She seems unhappy. Lost, even. I was thinking that mayhap she is in need of a good pummeling.” He paused, then glanced back at Katie. “What think you of that?”

Katie stiffened as though her entire body had turned to stone. “You can get those thoughts out of your head,” she snapped. “For all you know that girl charges a fee to get naked and pummeled.” Which Katie highly doubted, but still!

Intrigued, Jorlan looked from the girl to Katie, from Katie to the girl, and then back to Katie. “How much do you think she charges?” he asked, continuing to stroke his chin as if he were picturing the scenario and liking it.

“How much doesn’t matter, you pervert. You have no money, and I’m not giving you any. Besides, I said she might be a hooker, not that she actually is.”

Instead of sputtering with indignity as she’d hoped, he chuckled. “You sound jealous, katya.”

“Jealous?” She snorted, doing her best impression of a carefree woman with hundreds of lovers. “I’m not jealous. Jealousy is for those who actually care romantically about the other person. What I feel for you is similar to what I feel for my brothers.”

Jorlan’s quirky, confident smile faded. His features grew hard and cold, like ice freezing the ocean. “I am not, nor will I ever be, your sibling. And if you think otherwise, ’tis time we finished what we started this morn. You do care for me romantically, and I can prove it in front of all these people. You usually require proof, do you not, katya?”

Those words were all too true. True enough to make her shiver with a mixture of fear and anticipation. Yet his confidence in her capitulation annoyed her. He acted as if he had only to touch her and she would sink into him. Well, she might have allowed him a few liberties during that moment that she wasn’t thinking about until she was alone, but that wouldn’t happen again anytime soon.

“You want your usual, doll?” a gruff female voice asked, preventing Katie from tossing Jorlan a stinging retort. She settled for giving him a this-isn’t-finished glare then turned her attention to the waitress. “Yes, thank you. I’ll have my usual.”

Frances set two glasses of water on the table with a clang. Her black slacks and tailored white blouse hugged her generous curves. Her sherry-colored hair, which had probably come from a bottle, was twisted in a bun atop her head. “What about the big guy? He want a protein shake and an omelet, too?”

“The big guy can speak for himself,” Jorlan growled.

Far from being intimidated, Frances rolled her eyes and gave Katie a get-rid-of-this-one look. “So what’ll it be? I’m just dying to hear what you want.” Her droll tone stamped over Jorlan’s stiff shoulders.

Frowning, he raised the menu and studied the words. A minute passed, then another. Impatient, Francis tapped her shoe. (She wasn’t a favorite with the male patrons. But her boss was female, which was the only reason she still had a job.) “Sometime today, big guy.”

With a kingly, I-am-too-good-for-this air, he dropped the menu onto the table. “I have decided Katie will choose for me.”

Katie almost laughed. She did sigh. The man didn’t know how to read her language, but he refused to admit such a weakness aloud. Such an action almost made him seem—dare she think it? — vulnerable.

“Let’s see…” She grabbed up the menu. Besides Tupperware and turkey sandwiches, what did extra large aliens eat for breakfast? “He’ll have the mushroom omelet with peppers and ham. Two bagels with strawberry cream cheese, an English muffin and three blueberry tarts.”

Frances looked up from her notepad, wearing an incredulous expression. “Anything else?”

“Yes. A pecan waffle.”

Though neither woman spared him a glance, Jorlan said, “Two pecan waffles.”

“You’re gonna have to roll him out of here. You know that, don’t you?” Just then, a devilish light entered Frances’s hazel eyes. She smiled, crinkling the wrinkles around her eyes, and clasped the menu in one hand. “I got a new one for you, doll. Heard it just this morning.”

Katie opened her mouth to tell Francis she’d listen to the joke some other time— Lord knew how a chauvinist like Jorlan would react to man bashing—but Frances continued before she could stop her.

“A young couple was in their honeymoon suite the night of their wedding. As they undressed for bed, the husband, who was a big, burly man—” this was said with a pointed glance to Jorlan “—tossed his pants to his bride, and said, ‘Here, put these on.’though the wife was confused by his request, she put them on. The waist was twice the size of her body. ‘I can’t wear your pants,’ she told her husband, ‘they’re too big.’ ‘That’s right,’the husband said, ‘and don’t you forget it. I’m the man who wears the pants in this family!’”

Frances took a deep breath and continued. “The wife whipped off her panties and flipped them to her husband. ‘Try these on,’she said. Knowing he needed to pacify her if he hoped to get lucky, the husband did as she demanded. He tried the panties on and found that he could only get the lacy material up as far as his kneecap. He said, ‘Hell, I can’t get into your panties.’ And the wife said, ‘That’s right, and that’s the way it’s gonna be until you change your damn attitude.’”

Katie choked on her water.

Jorlan frowned.

When her air passage cleared, Katie smiled up at Frances. “I’ll have to tell that one to my brothers.”

“I thought you’d like it.”

“If you ever need a break from the café,” Katie said, still grinning, “come talk to me. I’m restoring the old house on Gossamer Lane and could use the help. And the entertainment.”

“Really? Seriously?”

“Absolutely.” Katie usually hired outside help for renovation and restoration when she purchased a new house. For some reason, she’d been reluctant to hire anyone for the Victorian, wanting instead to do the work herself. But the sheer elation in Frances’s eyes convinced her to stick with her usual method. “You could start anytime.”

“I might take you up on that.” Frances beamed. Then, with another meaningful glance to Jorlan, she sauntered away, leaving behind the echo of her happy whistle.

Jorlan’s features darkened with ire. “That woman needs a keeper.”

“You think every woman needs a keeper,” Katie replied dryly. Her gaze flicked to him, observant and narrowed. “Did you ever consider the possibility that your men-are-superior views are stupid?”

“Nay.” He answered with absolutely no hesitation.

“Figures.” She had anticipated such an answer, yet had hoped he would surprise her. “Look, some men are not honorable and often mentally and physically abuse a woman in an attempt to break her will. Is that the kind of keeper you would have for Frances?” Caught up in her speech, Katie leaned into him, even pointed a finger in his chest. “Just because a woman has spirit, does not mean she needs a man to guide her.”

“Aye, it does.” Jorlan, too, leaned forward. Their noses touched, sending a jolt of awareness through her system. He grabbed her finger and held the appendage captive in the warmth of his hand. “If a woman pushes a man beyond his control, she risks physical injury.”

“And a guardian would keep her safe?”

“Aye.”

Katie let out her breath sharply. “Even from himself?”

“Aye. Even from himself.” The blue of his eyes clouded with silver and gray. “A warrior trained in the art of battle will save a woman from the very danger she herself creates.”

The noise of the café faded from her ears as she concentrated on the man before her. “But, Jorlan, with your logic, a woman wouldn’t need a keeper if a warrior simply controlled himself.”

Jorlan paused, considering her words. When their meal was delivered, Katie’s voice still echoed in his mind. A woman wouldn’t need a keeper if a warrior simply controlled himself. There was truth to what she’d said, though such ideology contradicted the entire Imperian way of life, a way of life that suggested men were men and women were weak.

He had much to think on.

A wondrous aroma drifted into his nostrils. Frances, the aging servant, tossed numerous plates in his direction. Several pieces of food flopped to the table. His stomach rumbled. Ravenous, he made short work of every bite, nibble and crumb, relishing the taste, texture and color. The light-brown squares filled with dark-blue spheres were his favorite. Katie, he noticed, ate only a plain omelet and drank a mug of light green, clumpy liquid. With each gulp, she closed her eyes and uttered a wordless exclamation of ecstasy. He considered dousing his body in the murky-looking concoction.

“Now that one need is satisfied, I need only a nice, leisurely pummeling to feel complete,” he said. “Mayhap the girl would be interested.”

Katie scowled.

He almost laughed. ’Twas the action of a possessive woman, and one that filled him with hope. Soon…oh, aye, soon Katie’s love would belong to him.

“Keep in mind,” Katie bit out, “that you have no money. Women do not sleep with poor men.”

“Then I shall acquire riches.”

“As if it’s that easy! First of all, no one but me will hire you. Second, any money you make belongs to me to reimburse me for your food and shelter. I’m not a woman who will support a man while he does nothing except watch TV, lay on the couch and drink beer.”

“So you wish to hire me?”

“Yes,” she said after a moment’s hesitation.

“Do you, by chance, wish me to labor in the bedchamber?”

She threw her hands into the air. “No! The work I’m offering you has nothing to do with being naked, getting naked, or getting each other naked.”

Her dictate left many wonderful possibilities, for at times, clothing offered just as much, if not more, stimulation than flesh. Aye, he could very well imagine her with a long, shimmery blue gown draped over her curves, covering every inch of her. Slowly he would raise the gown’s hem. Higher. Higher still. Not ever making her naked, but slowly revealing the succulent skin of her calves, her thighs, and then her —

“You can get that perverted gleam out of your eyes,” she ground out, slapping her hand onto the table with a thump. Glasses clanged together. “You’ll paint, put up siding, lay tile, shingle or whatever I happen to need done. To the house,” she added, “not to me. And I don’t want to hear any complaints.”

Complain? About physical labor? When his body already hummed with excitement, vibrated with too much energy? “Exercising my muscles holds great appeal, katya. I will do whatever needs to be done, no matter that you are impudent in the asking of it.”

For a long while, she said nothing. Then she sighed, a long drawn-out sigh. “Look, I don’t mean to be so snappy, Jorlan. I really don’t. I just don’t know what to do about you.” She tossed green paper onto the table surface. “Come on. We’ve got a lot of work to do today.” She slid across the seat and stood.

He pushed easily to his feet.

Their gazes locked for one heartbeat before she turned away and headed for the exit. Jorlan had only taken four steps when someone grabbed his forearm. He spun, clutching the weapon at his waist without actually removing it.

The redhead smiled up at him.

He relaxed his warrior stance.

“Hey,” she said, her voice throaty and seductive. “I’m Heather.”

’Twas the type of reception he was used to receiving. He returned her smile. “’Tis my pleasure to meet you, Heather. I am called—”

“I know who you are. You’re Hunter Rains, the self-help guy. Twelve steps to a better you, and all that. I recognized you the moment I saw you.” She looked down at her feet, suddenly shy. “Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that I’ve read your book and I know you’re from Australia. I’d be glad to show you around Dallas. I’m —”

Katie had spun around at Heather’s first words and now stood directly beside Jorlan. Her eyes went molten, then icy. “He’s not available.”

Heather never even glanced Katie’s way; she just blinked up at Jorlan. “Are you? Unavailable, I mean?”

He didn’t answer right away. Too much did he enjoy Katie’s jealousy.

“I’ll be waiting in the truck,” Katie snapped. She swirled on her heel and strode outside.

Jorlan faced the little redhead again. Here was a woman like those of his world. Willing to please. More than likely, she would do whatever he asked if he showed the slightest bit of interest. Yet he felt nothing, not even a faint stirring of lust.

“Though I may come to regret these words,” he said when his body failed to respond to the girl’s nearness, “I am indeed unavailable.”

“But the woman you’re with is so…tall and plain.”

“Plain?” He chuckled. “Her beauty is endless.”

Heather gave a disappointed shrug of her shoulders. “It was worth a try, I guess.”

With nothing left to say, he followed the path Katie had taken. As she’d said, she was waiting for him inside the belly of her transportation. Her limbs were stiff, her expression cold.

He slowly grinned. The day was indeed ripe with promise.