Prince of Stone (Imperia)

by Gena Showalter

  He shut the fridge door and took a step in her direction. “For women, bodily pleasure often leads to love.”

  “Hate to break it to you, but anyone, no matter their gender, can bang and bail. Happens all the time.”

  “Not with me.”

  “You mean every woman you’ve slept with has proclaimed her love for you?”

  “Aye,” he said with a nod. And it wasn’t a smug nod, either. He’d stated a fact rather than a brag.

  “So, either you have a magic penis, or a lot of money. Which is it?”

  He winged up a brow. “Why can’t it be both?”

  Fair enough.

  Tone guarded, he asked, “Did you not fall for any of your past lovers?”

  Uh-oh. Was he leading up to The Talk about how many people they’d slept with?

  Surprise! My big number is zero because the few men who asked me out had hoped to brag about banging the she-giant or they were too afraid of my brothers. Talk about humiliating! No, thanks.

  “’Tis not your concern,” she said, mocking him. “Besides, I’m not interested in falling in love with you, only to say goodbye when you return home later that same day.”

  “I can make the pleasure worth it.”

  Could he really? No, no. Don’t go there. “Nevertheless.”

  “I can’t give up,” he croaked.

  “I understand.” And she did. Truly. “You know,” she said, deciding to change the subject to lighten the mounting tension, “you’re going to need a little bit of magic to sharpen that knife you stole. It’s used for cooking not combat.”

  “It was not used for combat before. And I did not steal from you. I borrowed the blades and…other things.”

  Cold fingers of dread crept down her spine. “What else did you borrow?”

  He showed off a pair of Gray’s shoes, a pair of scissors he’d strapped to his left ankle, a steak knife he’d strapped to his right ankle, a metal spatula tucked inside his sweats, alongside a rolling pin.

  “What are you going to do with all that?” She motioned to the rolling pin with a wave of her hand. “Chop someone up for a nice human stew?”

  “If the talons fail me, I will beat my enemy into submission.”

  Lord help us. “You can’t just go beating people here, or you’ll get arrested and locked inside a cell. Just…put everything back.”

  “Nay.” A hard glint sparked to life in his eyes, and he shook his head. “In this I will not relent. When entering an unknown situation, a warrior is always prepared for the worst.”

  He wasn’t wrong. “You can carry everything but the blades.” To be honest, letting him carry the other kitchen utensils wasn’t any kind of worst-case scenario. One, she never used them. And two, he was an alien in an unfamiliar world. If a spatula made him feel safer, great.

  Silence filled the room as he considered her proposal. Finally, he nodded. “I will heed your wishes.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Do you not see how reasonable I can be, little witch?”

  She almost laughed. So predictable, her Jorlan.

  My Jorlan?

  Well, yeah. She’d kissed him and set him free. Mine.

  Anyway. He’d just revealed his plan. Seduce her with kindness. “Mmm,” she purred. “Your reasonableness makes me want to do things…”

  He perked up.

  “Like give you a hearty handshake and a pat on the back,” she finished, and he man-pouted. “Did you find anything good to eat?”

  “Some good, some bad.” He opened the fridge and withdrew a bottle of mustard and a bottle of mayo, both with a shattered cap. “Bad.” Next, he withdrew a Ziploc bag that used to be stuffed with shredded cheese and now had only remnants. “Good.”

  Katie stood and padded to his side, put the condiments back in the fridge and claimed the bag. Their palms brushed, just for a second, but a jolt of electricity shot up her arm. Shaky now, she tossed the plastic in the trash. “If you’re still hungry, I’ll take you to my favorite café. It’s only fifteen minutes away, so we can be in and out in less than an hour.”

  “Afterward we will visit a psychic? I am eager to meet the one who will take me home.”

  “If we succeed, you’ll go home today? Even though I haven’t fallen in love with you?”

  “Nay. I will wait until I’ve won you. And I will win you, katya. Doubt it not.” His tone possessed an ominous edge, daring her to contradict him. “I will stop at nothing.”

  Her pulse fluttered, and her belly quivered. If he kept up this smolder, yeah, he’d win no problem.

  “Give me a few minutes.” Grumbling under her breath, she retrieved the old cell phone she’d charged overnight, then returned to the kitchen to google. “You know, there’s a chance you could give me a million orgasms and I still wouldn’t fall in love with you. For your own sake, you might want to rethink your strategy.”

  “The only way to know for sure is to let me give you one million orgasms.”

  Shivers. Heat. Without glancing up, she answered, “I’ll think about it.” Truth. She doubted she’d be able to think about anything else. It wasn’t like she had to part with her virginity to get those orgasms. They could pleasure each other in different ways, do things she’d longed to try for an eternity.

  “Thank you, Katie.” He rushed over to plant a swift kiss on her cheek.

  They both stilled.

  Air caught in her throat. He ceased breathing mid-inhale.

  Awareness arced between them, crisp and hot.

  Little aches and pangs spread throughout her body. She wanted…she needed… Strip him. Taste him. Make him come. Let him strip and taste you.

  No. No! She would not be humped and dumped, and that’s all Jorlan promised.

  “We have time to visit one psychic,” she told him, looking away. But not before she caught a glimpse of abject disappointment. “If this one isn’t legit, you’re out of luck until tomorrow. I have work to do.”

  * * *

  ONCE UPON A TIME, Jorlan considered challenges fun. Here, now, with Katie? Challenges were the worst! Her continued rejection had made mincemeat of his ego, and he’d begun to wonder if the women of his world had only pretended to love him because of his wealth and title, just as the human had suggested.

  Would he actually have to improve his personality to succeed without wealth or a title?

  Mayhap he wasn’t as perfect as his mother used to tell him?

  Nonsense! He had many, many great qualities. Or some. A handful. Or a few. Possibly only two. His strength, and his… So he had one great quality, but it might be enough to win. For a moment, Katie had been entranced by him, her eyes soft, her lips parted—ready.

  He clung to hope.

  If only he wanted her simply because of the curse. But the more time he spent in her presence, the more he liked her as a woman. No, as a person. She was unlike any woman—or man!—he’d ever known. Smart, witty, strong in her own right, sometimes sweet, sometimes stern. Mysterious. Fun. He could not predict what she would do or say.

  Did she wield some sort of seduction magic he could not sense? Mayhap. Aye, mayhap. ’Twould explain many of his feelings for her.

  Curse it, he’d thought his defenses were firmly in place, both magically and emotionally. Yet here he stood, hungry for her and her alone, needing her as he’d never needed another.

  He could not let himself soften any more. But how could he fight against her allure and win her over?

  “Here’s one,” Katie said, her honey-rich voice cutting into his thoughts. “The House of Mysticism, where one’s deepest desires are realized.” She paused. “Sounds like a hoax to me, but you’re the expert. It’s only five miles away, and the ad says the owner possesses the ancient power of the Druids.”

  “Druids?” Jorlan’s back straightened in a snap. “Are they related to the Druinn?”

  “I don’t—”

  He snatched the small black device from her hand and searched the screen. While he had not lear
ned to read Katie’s language, the letters were similar to the ones used in Imperia.

  How was this possible? Unless…

  What if Imperians and Earthlings were related? One group could have left their world to populate another.

  He noticed the swirling symbols next to the word Druid, and sucked in a breath, excited. “This.” He pointed. “This means magic in Druinn.”

  “What are Druinn?”

  “My mother’s people,” he replied, fighting the urge to hug the device and the symbol to his chest.

  Katie peered up at him through the thick shield of her lashes, her features softening, tension melting away. “You must miss your family.”

  “I do. More than I can ever articulate,” he said, his voice ragged. A sense of urgency settled over him. “Let us waste no more time. We will leave immediately and postpone the…” What had she called it? Oh, aye. “The calf-fay.”

  “Oh, we will, will we?” she asked, drumming her nails against the counter. “You’re one hundred percent in charge now?”

  She isn’t like other females, remember? What was more, she’d saved his life. Because of Katie, he’d shed centuries of despair and gained the most glorious hope.

  He owed her, something he’d forgotten amid the excitement of gaining his freedom.

  Well, well. What was this? Looked like his personality had gotten tweaked already. Now that he’d acclimated to his new circumstances, he could see past his desperation to finally break the curse—somewhat—and admit a harsh truth.

  As he’d watched the world around him, unable to participate, he’d seen wonders and horrors. Acts of love and acts of hate. Genuine kindnesses and great selfishness. He’d realized the Jorlan pre-curse had been more selfish than anyone he’d observed. He’d been self-involved, the contributions of others unimportant to him.

  He’d realized he’d always selected lovers based on outward appearance, nothing more. In fact, he’d fallen for Maylyn’s face rather than Maylyn herself. Never again.

  His future would be different from his past. And Katie…she would be, what? The woman he’d pleasured and abandoned after she’d saved him, or would she be—could she be—something more?

  * * *

  KATIE THREW IN the towel, waved the white flag, caved. Whatever the saying, she accepted that the day was only going to get worse.

  Currently, she stood in front of an old, crumbly building with a neon pink sign that read YES, I KNEW YOU WERE COMING.

  Sunlight glared at the peeling yellow, blue and gold paint that covered the splintered wood. Parts of the roof were shingle-less, and weeds filled the front lawn. Such an atrocity!

  Given enough time and cash, she could flip this place into a dream, and rid the world of a visual blemish.

  “Maybe we should pick a different shop?” she said to Jorlan, who towered at her side. She loved standing next to him so freaking much. “Or do you sense magic?”

  He scanned the perimeter, no doubt taking in every detail. “No, but the most powerful of the Druinn can disguise and hide their power.”

  Great! “All right, then. Inside we go,” she said, pushing open the door. A bell tinkled.

  He hesitated, different emotions playing over his features. Hope. Doubt. Determination. Worry.

  Now she released the door, letting it close with a whoosh. What worried Jorlan most? Failure—or success? He probably feared his family’s reaction to his return. Would they welcome him with open arms or look upon as a stranger? What if they’d all died during his absence?

  How much time had passed on Imperia? How many of his friends had passed away? How many still lived?

  Her chest tightened with sympathy. Poor Jorlan. He wanted to go home, and she couldn’t blame him. Were the situation reversed, she’d want the same thing, would do anything, use anyone, to get it.

  “I’ll be with you the entire time,” Katie told him. “If this psychic isn’t able to get you home, we’ll find another one, I promise. We won’t stop until we succeed.”

  He met her gaze and shared a warm half smile. “A man could get lost in the sensual web you weave, witch, forgetting he has any troubles.”

  That was…that…he… That was the sweetest thing anyone had ever said to her and dang him, if he’d said it simply to get into her pants, she would reach into his mouth and rip out his tongue.

  “Jorlan.” What to say? What to do?

  He shifted from one foot to the other and muttered, “Mayhap I’ll take you with me, and make love to you while we are enveloped by the mystical mists of Imperia.” As soon as the words left him, he frowned. Hadn’t meant to speak out loud, huh?

  She recognized the words for what they were—an easily dismissible thought. An idea he would entertain and discard. So, she wouldn’t let herself ponder it.

  “I will never leave my brothers,” she said. They were bastards to be sure, but they were her bastards. “Let’s do this.”

  Once again, she pushed open the door. The bell tinkled again. When she took a step inside, Jorlan latched on to her arm, stopping her.

  “I will go first and ensure you are not walking into danger.” He didn’t give her time to argue. He marched inside.

  She knew she wore a stupid grin as she followed him. Instead of portraits or sconces, the walls boasted incense holders. Jasmine-tinged smoke curled from one of them, scenting the air. Soft, lyrical music played in the background.

  Plush burgundy carpet cushioned her sandaled feet. Katie had never been a fan of carpet, but even she had to admit this was a major luxury when compared to the shop’s exterior.

  Jorlan prowled through the small, dim lobby. There were a couple chairs, and a coffee table scattered with magazines and crystals. No other furnishings, and zero clients. No receptionist, either. No one rushed out to greet them.

  Finally, an attractive woman in her midfifties, with hazel eyes and prominent cheekbones, stepped beyond an entrance covered with decorative fringe. She wore black slacks and a tailored white blouse nothing like Katie had imagined.

  “Hello,” the woman said. “I am Hollybeth. Welcome to my establishment.” She had the cultured accent of an English gentlewoman. “How may I help you?”

  Hollybeth ignored her, remaining focused on Jorlan.

  He dispensed with pleasantries. “Do you possess the power to—”

  Katie slammed a hand over Jorlan’s mouth. “Why don’t you tell us why we’re here.” Surely a self-professed “seer” could answer so simple a question.

  Jorlan pried her hand from his mouth, but didn’t release his grip. He kept her palm captured in the warmth of his own. “Next time you wish to silence me, katya,” he growled softly, the words meant only for her, “use your tongue.”

  “Ah, young love,” Hollybeth said with a sigh.

  He grinned. Katie frowned, her doubts increasing.

  The older woman gave her a faint smile, deepening the crinkles at the corners of her eyes. “You do not believe in the supernatural, do you, dear?”

  “I believe in facts,” Katie replied, doing her best to ignore the rightness of holding hands with Jorlan. There was just something so gratifying about having her fingers linked with his, a subtle reassurance and a tangible show of affection. Even though he felt nothing substantial for her, this made her feel needed.

  “I believe in facts, as well,” Hollybeth answered with a nod.

  “Then you’ll understand why I demand proof of your abilities.” Her alien knew nothing about Earth, or the scams people often attempted on unsuspecting, vulnerable individuals. If this woman truly was the kind of sorceress he sought, she was going to have to prove it.

  “Of course I understand. Sit, sit.” With a delicate wave of her hand, the Englishwoman waved them past the beads and into a bigger room with a table in back. “Would you like something to drink? Coffee? Tea? I even have a wonderful herbal elixir that promotes mental clarity.”

  Such as weed? “No, thanks,” Katie answered, shaking her head. She would not be consuming a
nything that had the power to screw with her head.

  Jorlan ushered her to the table. They sat side by side, even though he had to squeeze the long length of his legs underneath the too-short surface.

  Hollybeth claimed the seat just in front of them. “Give me your palm,” she said to Jorlan.

  He sliced his gaze to Katie. “Do all the women here command a warrior thusly?”

  “Oh, yeah. Now give her your hand, Jordie.”

  With the sigh of a man who carried all the world’s burdens, he did as instructed, offering his free hand while maintaining a tight hold on Katie.

  As Hollybeth hunched over his palm, she traced each line with a long, oval-tipped nail. “You wish to find a way home, but you cannot do it alone Am I correct?”

  The observation surprised Katie. Until she recalled the things she’d said outside, before entering the shop. If Hollybeth had mics out there, she could have listened to every word.

  “Aye,” Jorlan said, squeezing her fingers.

  “All you need is…a guide. Yes. Someone to guide you.” Hollybeth peeked over at him. “Do I still speak the truth?”

  A muscle ticked beneath his eye. “Aye.” The hardness of his tone made his voice an audible hammer, the single word like a physical blow. And yet, Katie’s toes curled. Such intensity. She imagined him poised above her, totally focused on her pleasure…

  Enough!

  As Jorlan and Hollybeth continued to interact, Katie forced herself to focus on the situation and not the man. Every time the Englishwoman spoke, Jorlan shifted uncomfortably in his chair and appeared both furious and sad. He’d already accepted that this wasn’t going to work, hadn’t he, but he was holding on anyway, just in case a miracle occurred.

  “There is someone who can help you,” Hollybeth said next. “Someone who will help you. Someone whose name is… I’m getting an impression of the letter K. Yes, yes. Someone whose name begins with the letter K. A woman. She will guide you home. Do you know someone whose name begins with K?”

  “Aye.” Hammer strike. Chair shift.

  Another thing the woman could have overheard, since Jorlan had called Katie katya.

  “Good, good.” The self-touted psychic continued to study his hand. “I predict much—”