Prince of Stone (Imperia)

by Gena Showalter

  A cursed warrior crosses paths with a woman unlucky in love in this sizzling, significantly updated classic from New York Times bestselling author Gena Showalter, originally published as The Stone Prince in 2004.

  A statuesque beauty unlucky in love…

  With five older brothers, Katie James grew up a tomboy. Now, the six-foot-tall home renovator has never made it past a first date. When she begins restoration on an old Victorian, she never dreamed the gorgeous marble statue in the garden would come to life with a kiss. But, suddenly, a very real, very naked warrior is standing before her, demanding she surrender her heart.

  A cursed alien prince with everything to lose…

  Jorlan en Sarr hails from the distant planet Imperia. Thanks to his brother’s curse, he’s been entombed in stone for centuries, awaiting a fair maiden to set him free. Yet the goddess-like female with a will of iron and kisses like flame is nothing like the subservient damsels of his homeland. And though Katie affects him as no other, Jorlan must guard his heart while winning hers—all in two weeks! If he fails, he’ll be turned back to stone… forever.

  Originally published in 2004

  Prince of Stone

  Gena Showalter

  Dear Reader,

  As I write this, I’m in total shock. I mean, I’m seriously reeling! I just looked at the original publication date of PRINCE OF STONE, my very first published book (formerly titled THE STONE PRINCE). Guys. It came out in 2004. That is SIXTEEN FREAKING YEARS AGO.

  Let’s face it. If the book were my real-life child rather than my page baby, it’d be driving my car, stealing cash from my purse, and telling me I’m the worst mom in the history of ever.

  In the years since my first release—did I mention this happened 16 years ago???—I’ve published around 70 books. Uh-oh. I’m reeling again. The girl rightfully voted “Worst Employee Ever” at her own mother’s business wrote SEVENTY books? I think I just fell in love with myself.

  Over the years, I’ve learned a ton about the craft of writing (though “lay” and “lie” still get me). I couldn’t wait to dive back into this book, update the pop culture references, add to the scenes and the world-building, nix extraneous text, and do the occasional, uh, tweak (i.e. rewrite a ton of stuff). I hope you enjoy the end result!

  For all of you who have been on this journey with me since the beginning—thank you! For all of you who have read and loved any of my books over the years—thank you! For all of you trying my books out for the first time—thank you! I am blessed beyond measure. I appreciate you, and all you do to help spread the word about my books.

  Wishing you the very best,

  Gena Showalter

  CONTENTS

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Epilogue

  CHAPTER ONE

  KATIE JAMES COASTED her fingertips across the muscular chest before her. Mmm. Cool to the touch and wonderfully rigid. Warmth tingled in her veins, more intoxicating than a moonlit kiss. Not that she’d ever experienced a moonlit kiss, but she’d seen one in a movie, so, same thing. Right? Right. Anyway. Images of silk sheets, entwined bodies and slow caresses filled her mind, a wispy catch of breath parting her lips.

  How could this man affect her so powerfully? How could he affect her at all when he’d never spoken a word to her? Or anyone!

  Because he was beauty personified? How shallow of her. In the game of life, physical beauty was a momentary blip, there and gone; it meant nothing.

  To maintain a romantic relationship, a couple, any couple needed something beyond a stunning outward appearance. But…

  Even knowing the absolute foolishness of this forbidden attraction, she couldn’t think past this guy’s incredible physique.

  Her wild side whisper, So why not embrace it?

  Katie moved her gaze over him slooowly. He was tall and cut with muscle, his shoulders broad and his abdomen ridged in sinew. A thick mane of hair framed the face of a warrior-angel.

  Though he stood outside, surrounded by a brilliant bouquet of pink and blue azaleas, he was the absolute essence of masculinity, and she could not get enough. Gimme!

  He belonged in a gladiator arena, with an arsenal of weapons at his disposal. Or a bed with an arsenal of toys.

  With a dreamy sigh, she rested her cheek against his shoulder. She could almost imagine his breath fanning her crown. “If only you were real…”

  But he wasn’t real. He was formed entirely of smooth, gray stone. A beautiful statue, nothing more. And what an irony of fate. The first man to captivate her belonged in a museum, not her life.

  Straightening reluctantly, she traced his bottom lip with the pad of her thumb. His eyes of stone seemed to project a message: Kiss me.

  Yes, yes. No!

  Gah! Maybe she had a previously unrealized statue fetish? Why was she surprised by her infatuation with a beautiful, silent, unreal man, anyway? Having grown up with five older brothers, she knew just how annoying real men could be. Forget how they drank out of communal cartons, burped and scratched their junk, their derogatory jokes and irritating bro code. How many men enjoyed charming the pants off an unsuspecting conquest, then lost interest and moved on?

  Too many! It didn’t help that the few men who’d asked Katie out on a date had quickly proven to be uninterested in getting to know her outside of her likes and dislikes in the bedroom. Of course, they’d stopped caring about bedding her as soon as they’d gotten a taste of her abrasive personality, all spice without sugar, and her “no sex until we’re in love” policy.

  So. Yeah. She’d never actually been in love, which meant she’d never actually had sex. And she hadn’t been—wasn’t—keen on waiting, either. She just wanted to know the guy she chose would be willing to stick around.

  The current tally? Zero. She liked to imagine she was a comic book superheroine, with anti-dating superpowers. It’s not a bird. It’s not a plane. It’s Cock Block Katie, able to deflate a man’s erection in ten seconds flat!

  A wave of depression crashed over Katie. “Why can’t you be real?” she asked the statue. Unlike her dates, he wouldn’t ditch her, hoping to find someone better. He couldn’t. He was permanently mounted to a marble base in her garden. “I’d date you so hard.”

  Kiss him. Kiss him now.

  The thought whispered through her mind, as tempting as a pot of gold. Fighting a primitive urge to surrender to temptation, just one time, she expelled another sigh. Maybe, for a little while, she could pretend she’d found someone of quality, who made her feel cherished.

  I want to feel cherished.

  Kiss him.

  “Well. Someone has a one-track mind, and it’s me,” she muttered.

  The chilly Dallas breeze failed to cool her ardor, and with each passing second the stone warrior’s unwavering stare unraveled more of her resistance. Why not kiss him?

  What would it hurt?

  Would she look like a (bigger) fool and a weird pervert? Only if someone lurked nearby and watched. In this spot, she was hidden by walls of foliage.

  Katie caressed his jawbone, marvel
ing. The artist deserved an award. His jaw had a rough exterior, like sandpaper, to mimic morning beard stubble.

  Next, she traced the outline of his ears, his neck…shoulders…chest and even his small, puckered nipples. Fiery heat rippled across her nerve endings and—nope, no way. He had not uttered a soft moan. Her grade A imagination was running wild, that was all.

  Deep breath in, out. Good, that was good. She—

  Gravel crunched in the distance, jolting her from her thoughts. Someone had just driven up her driveway.

  Katie scrambled off the dais and darted past the foliage just in time to watch a black sedan park in front of her dilapidated Victorian-style mansion. Her eldest brother’s sedan.

  Though her cheeks burned with mortification, she marched across the “pleasure garden.” Naked sculptures littered the entire enclosure, similar to the warrior she wasn’t going to think about ever again.

  As her brother emerged from the car, the cool breeze died down, the sun glaring with more vigor. Those bright golden rays loved him, turning his pale hair platinum, making his blue eyes sparkle and his tanned skin glisten.

  She called, “Dam—darn it, Gray. What are you doing here?” Ugh. Gross. Had she really just gone fully granny and used the word darn? What was next? Drats?

  “Still working on our cussing, I see.” Grinning, not the least put out by her brusque tone, he kicked the car door shut. Guess he’d gotten used to the tone over the years. “Well, bad news, Kit Kat. You owe me thirteen cents.”

  “I do not!” Because of a chronic potty mouth Katie gave a quarter to anyone who caught her saying a curse word. If alone, she put the quarter in a jar. “I stopped myself from finishing the curse.”

  “You did, yes. After you’d uttered the first half of the word.”

  “Fine!” Every morning she rounded up four quarters, just to be safe. Now she dug one from her pocket to lob at him. “Keep the change. Happy now? Why are you here, anyway? You never said.”

  He laughed. “I’m here to tour your newest acquisition. And earn a little extra cash.”

  “Ha-ha.” He’d come here to check on her, as usual. All five of her brothers considered her a delicate flower in need of twenty-four-hour, seven-days-a-week protection. So what that she was six feet tall and in top physical condition. So what that she’d attended numerous self-defense classes. So she’d taken self-defense classes and ran her own business. So what. “What’s the real reason you’re here? I already know the answer, but I’d like to hear you say it. Be honest.”

  “You know I’m always honest…when it suits me. Unfortunately for you, there’s only one truth I’m willing to admit at the moment. Your house is a massive dump.”

  “You’re a massive dump,” she retorted. For the past four years, she’d kicked butt flipping houses. A job she adored. She had an instinct for real estate, and she always made a profit.

  Again, Gray laughed. “You caught me. There’s another reason I’m here. Steven Harris is a new detective in my unit, and everyone likes him. He—”

  She groaned. Her brother meant well, he did, but she wasn’t going out with any more of his friends. It never worked out, and always ruined his relationship with the guy. “Not this again.”

  “He saw your picture on my desk and asked if you were single,” Gray continued despite her protest.

  “The last cop I dated spent the entire night discussing the way a bullet once pierced his chest cavity in minute detail. I’d rather be staked to an anthill while wearing a bologna bikini than endure such an experience again.”

  Her brother remained undeterred. “Are you seeing someone?”

  “You know I’m not. You also know I suffer from a severe case of First Date Syndrome.” No one had ever asked her out on a second one. The reasons varied. She was too tall, too brash, too prudish, too paranoid, too pushy—too everything.

  Katie did nothing halfway.

  “You’ve told me you want a guy who is trustworthy, loyal and kind, who won’t abuse kids, animals, the sick or the elderly. Or anyone!” Gray said, spreading his arms. “That’s what I’m giving you.”

  “Pass!” The fact that she had to add not abusive to a list of desired qualities in a mate was a sad commentary on the state of humanity.

  “Are you holding out for perfection?” he asked.

  “Please. My brothers taught me perfection is a myth.”

  “Smart-ass.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “So, do I get the official tour or not?”

  “You do…as soon as you pay for your ticket.” After blowing him a kiss with her middle finger.

  “Do I get the usual friends and family discount?”

  “You mean beer and pizza? Yes.”

  Grinning again, he opened the passenger door of his car to reveal a box of pizza and a six-pack of beer.

  Excitement bubbled up. She waved him over. “Come on. Since we’re outside, I’ll show you the garden first.” My pride and joy.

  They walked over while playfully arguing about whose morning had been worse. When they reached the first row of statues, three males and three females in different stages of self-gratification, Katie splayed her arms wide.

  “Welcome to my playground.”

  “Those statues are—” His eyes widened with a little shock and a lot of awe. “They’re getting off.”

  “I know,” she replied, trying not to snicker.

  Her favorite statue was just around the lush green thicket, unobservable from where they stood. He was the only one not positioned in a sexual pose. No doubt he was chosen because of his hard-on.

  What he offered a woman could not be covered by a fig leaf.

  Why am I thinking about him? Stop!

  “I take back my comment. This house is anything but a dump,” Gray said, approaching a female sculpture. He ran a hand along the curve of her spine. “I’d like to put in an offer to buy. A hundred million invisible dollars.”

  Katie’s chuckle floated across the daylight, a herald for her brother’s cell phone.

  He checked the screen. In a heartbeat of time, his shoulders tensed and his facial features hardened. Her teasing older brother morphed into a seasoned detective. He was distanced and in control.

  Tone sardonic and hinting at terrible secrets, he said, “I’ve got to go. I’ll visit later this week, and you can give me the grand tour then.”

  They power-walked to his car, where he handed her the pizza and balanced the beer on top of the box. She barely had time to say thanks before he placed a swift kiss on her cheek, climbed behind the wheel and sped off.

  “Alone again,” Katie muttered.

  The scent of bread, cheese and tomato made her mouth water. Rather than return to the garden to eat close to her stone warrior, she strolled into the house. Thick cobwebs stretched from one corner to another. Dirt stained every wall, along with chipped paint and peeling wallpaper.

  As she moved into the kitchen, her shoes crunched on the broken remains of a once-magnificent chandelier. So much to repair and replace. The sheer enormity of the job threatened to overwhelm her.

  One task at a time. Earlier, she’d finished tiling the bathroom walls, leaving only one chore on today’s to-do list—stripping the kitchen floor.

  First she had to remove the carpet. Yes, someone had put carpet in the kitchen, on top of linoleum, which might cover hardwood.

  After two slices of pizza and just as many beers, Katie jabbed a button on her iPod dock. The soundtrack to a Jill Shalvis rom-com filled the room.

  Two hours ticked by, an ache in her back intensifying. By the halfway mark, she hated her body and the world.

  She hobbled to the crate she used as a table, situated in front of a large bay window, and dug inside her purse. Where was the Tylenol…there! She shook two pills in her hand. From this spot, she had a perfect view of the pleasure garden. For a moment, she couldn’t shake the feeling that someone watched her.

  Creeped out, she got back to work. But she had trouble concentrating and had
to stop, again, before she cut off a finger. She packed up her gear and drove home.

  One day passed. Two. Three. Every morning she returned to the Victorian to work, but she kept her distance from the garden. Even though the need to see her warrior continued to strengthen.

  On day four, her resistance broke.

  Once she’d completed her daily tasks, she ambled into the moonlit garden. Crickets sang and fireflies flickered, a chilly April breeze dancing strands of pale hair in front of her face.

  Should have worn a sweater. You never knew what kind of weather you’d get in Texas, the state with ten seasons. Winter, Fool’s Spring, Spring, Second Winter, First Summer, Seven Levels of Hell Summer, Premature Fall, Summer Redo, Fall and Summer’s Vengeance.

  The sucky thing? You could experience all ten seasons in a single day.

  The closer she came to the stone warrior, the faster her heart raced and the more her blood overheated. Up ahead, paper lanterns twinkled, their interior bulbs giving the illusion of actual flames. Crickets chirped a lazy tune. Colorful flowers bloomed in every corner, saturating the air with a sweet, floral fragrance.

  When she faced the object of her torment, she drew in a relieved breath. At last.

  He towered over her, making Katie feel wonderfully small in comparison. A sensation she’d craved for years, ever since her eighth-grade crush called her Stilts.

  He was so blatantly masculine, every little aspect of his form expertly detailed. His eyes seemed heavy lidded and sleepy, as if they forever beckoned a woman to bed. His mouthwatering lips were parted, as if forever begging for a kiss. There was a slight tracery of veins beneath the surface of his “skin.”

  If he were real…

  Would he have dark or light hair? What color were his eyes? Would he tell the truth, or lie? Was he kind? Did he have a temper? Did he love ’em and leave ’em or did he have staying power?

  “You have invaded every aspect of my life,” she told him. “My dreams. My work. And yeah, okay, I thought there’d be more than two things in a list about my life, but apparently not. I’m a workaholic. Anyway. How can I want to spend so much time with a freaking statue?”