Prince of Stone (Imperia)

by Gena Showalter

  “I do not need your predictions.” His irritation overcame his sadness and obliterated his hope. “I need to know if you can open a vortex into another world.”

  Hollybeth’s brows furrowed together. “Why do you need someone else to open a vortex? You have the power within yourself to go wherever you wish.”

  Huh. The fact that the woman had responded as if Jorlan wasn’t a total whack job, well, she had to be the real deal. Or super committed to her persona.

  I’m leaning toward committed.

  Jorlan glared at her. “The power I have is unstable. Unusable. Try again.”

  “You are wrong. If properly nourished, can gain control.”

  His hope revived, glowing in his eyes once again. “How do I nourish my power?”

  “I have a powerful elixir able to—”

  “Let me stop you there.” Katie had heard enough. There was no way Jorlan would be drinking anything this con woman had prepared. “What you’re looking for isn’t here, Jorlan. Trust me. Please.”

  His only answer was a slight, almost undetectable nod.

  “Now, wait a sec—” Hollybeth began.

  Katie smacked the table, the loud boom silencing her. “I’ve had enough bull shi—crap, thanks. You’re a fake. A phony. You can’t help him any more than a Keebler Elf could. Just admit it.” Katie didn’t mean to sound so harsh, but damn it, she hated that Jorlan was so upset.

  Hollybeth’s lips thinned, the upper one curling in. Her weathered cheeks bloomed with color. From embarrassment or anger, Katie didn’t know. “Everything I said is true,” the psychic ground out. “Only the heart can guide a man home. With the help of my potion, of course.”

  Argh! Katie jolted up, fist clutched tightly. “You can take your potion and stuff it.”

  Another sigh from Jorlan. “We are done here.”

  Katie and Hollybeth quieted. Never had he used such a sad tone.

  Head high, he pushed to his feet and strode out of the room, out of the building, the bell tinkling.

  Tossing a twenty on the table, Katie said, “Thanks for nothing.”

  Hollybeth shrugged, unconcerned. “The price is usually fifty, but I’m feeling generous.” Holly tucked the bill inside her bra. “So generous I’ll even give you a freebie. It doesn’t take a seer to know that one is a heartbreak waiting to happen. If I were you, I’d run and never look back.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  FEAR HAD NO PREJUDICE. It attacked male and female, young and old, without distinction. Today, it attacked Jorlan. He felt as if he stood at the brink of madness. If he failed to break the cure, if he failed to find a way home, he would be trapped in stone, trapped in this world—forever. He’d known the possibility existed, aye, but now it seemed likely.

  He had a mere thirteen days of freedom left, which meant he was free but imprisoned.

  The sun warmed his face as he stood outside the “psychic’s” dwelling, his legs braced apart, his arms locked behind his back and his muscles clenched. The stance of a warrior before battle, as plans and strategies were cemented.

  This was the greatest battle of his life.

  His first instinct had been correct. No magic had resided in the House of Mysticism. Yet he’d foolishly clung to hope with the vise-grip of a desperate man. He’d clung all the way to the end, when Hollybeth had offered the elixir. The Druinn did not use elixirs. Nor did they use potions, toxins or poisons. Unlike sorcerers, who did, the Druinn preferred to derive their power from the stars.

  Now the truth could not be denied. All Earth psychics might be as fake as Katie suspected.

  The irony was that the fraud inside this shabby building had actually spoken a kernel of truth. He should have the power to go home. Magic dwelled inside him, so much magic, but how could he tame it after all this time?

  Curse this world! And curse himself! He need only cast a simple spell anyone with magic tendencies learned as a child.

  As he waited for Katie, Jorlan decided to try to open a portal. Mayhap this particular skill had been honed over time?

  He closed his eyes, raised his arms, and uttered the necessary words. Air swirled around him, faster and faster. It was working! Just a few more—

  The wind died down, and his hopes crashed. Still, he tried again. Nothing. Again. Nothing.

  Each of his failures—with Katie, the psychic and his own powers—weighed heavily upon his shoulders. So heavily he dropped his arms to his sides. Why did magic and spells come so easily to others yet prove so difficult and disastrous for him?

  He ground his teeth. White-hot breath scalded his nasal passages. Pride demanded he do as he’d set out to do, break the curse and return home, and kill Percen, avenging lost time, lack of companionship and unending misery.

  Pride demanded…and yet Jorlan could do nothing.

  He uttered a dark, humorless laugh, frustration eating him up inside. One minute stretched to another as he fought for some kind of inner peace. A fruitless battle. 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?” Katie’s voice caressed his ears and…aye, soothed him. “I know that didn’t go the way you planned,” she said, “but we’ll find someone else. Someone legit. I mean, before you appeared in my life, I considered magic a myth. Now here you are. So, there has to be a real psychic out there and I promise we’ll visit another place in the morning.”

  He gazed down at her blunt-tipped nails, 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 for far too long, and he should forgive and move on. As if he had nothing to fear. That everything would work out for his good. Yet still he required an outlet, and she had just provided him with one.

  He drank in her loveliness. Intoxicating. “I like this softer side of yours, katya.”

  She snatched her hand back. “Oh, uh. I wasn’t making a pass or anything.”

  “This, I know.” He clasped her forearms and hauled her to him. Chest to chest. Hardness to softness. “There’s still time to do so.”

  Twin pink circles painted her cheeks. “Why? Are you wanting to kiss me?” she asked, breathless, sinking more snugly into him. What had changed?

  “I always want to kiss you.” This was the most encouragement she’d given him. Though he knew he should wait until they were away from prying eyes, eagerness got the better of him. He wanted to hold her so tightly against him she could only part her lips and cry out his name.

  “Jorlan,” she whispered.

  Her carnal fragrance filled his head. He slid his hands up, up, and combed his fingers through her hair, fisting the strands at her nape. Drawn to her in a way he’d never been drawn to another, he tugged her closer until nothing separated their bodies.

  Her pupils expanded, and her color deepened.

  Can’t stop this. He lifted her to her toes and lowered his head. Their lips pressed together. She gasped, and he rolled his tongue against hers. So incredibly sweet.

  He hardened to the point of pain, every cell sizzling with lust. He burned for more. For everything.

  For her, and her alone.

  She would be just as sweet when he feasted between her legs, he knew it. Cannot wait.

  Uttering a low, needy moan, she thrust her tongue against his. Like throwing kindling on a fire.

  He palmed and kneaded one of her breasts, rolling the nipple between his fingers. “This is what I long to do to you every time I see you. Hear you. Sense you,” he whispered. “This is what I craved as I lay upon your floor. What I imagined as I stroked myself off while you slept.”

  She whimpered, the sound one of pure need. That need played havoc with his pace. Been without passion for far too long. Missed it. Need it.

  Need more.

  Frantic, frenzied, he moved his grip to her buttocks and lifted, allowing her to wrap her legs around his waist. With a spin, he pinned her against the brick wall.<
br />
  The apex of her thighs cradled his erection, both tantalizing and tormenting. The sensations… He’d never experienced anything so intense, but he instinctively knew he would need it forevermore.

  No, no. This didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but the pressure building inside him. Unable to remain still, he rolled his hips and ground against her. A mimic of sex.

  She shivered, plaintive moans leaving her faster and faster. Increasingly ragged whimpers, too. More moans. Groans. Sighs. Mewls and purrs. He marveled. With a simple kiss—liar! there’s nothing simple about it—he’d destroyed her inhibitions.

  “How wet are you?” How much do you want me, little witch?

  “No talking.” She ran his bottom lip between her teeth. “Feels so good. Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

  Pride swelled his chest. As she dragged her nails down his back, he ached to rip off her drocs, free his throbbing shaft and plunge deep inside her. He craved the clench of her inner walls as she chased her release.

  He would give anything, pay any price, to feel her erupt with pleasure, to watch her face light with wonder, to hear her scream his name as she hurled over the edge.

  I will give her one peak after another.

  The heated thought torched what remained of his control. Get her to the car. Get inside her.

  Aye! He wrenched his mouth from hers and unhooked her legs from his waist. Panting, every inhalation singeing his airways, he released her and stepped back. Surely the most difficult task he’d ever completed.

  At least she panted just as forcefully. Lust crackled in her irises, and passion-fever bloomed in her cheeks.

  Was she flushed beneath her clothing?

  “Wasn’t ready to stop,” she muttered, reaching for him.

  “Not stopping. Only pausing.” He took her hand and hauled her toward the car.

  A tactical error he would not make again. By the time they arrived at their destination, she’d gone cold.

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

  In an instant, the passionate haze that enveloped them evaporated, and her expression changed. From Take me now to I’d rather burn in the fires of Hel la Fir than be with you.

  “I’m sorry,” she croaked.

  “Did I frighten you?” Sweat beaded on his brow. He’d never begged for anything; he hadn’t even begged Percen for mercy. But right now, Jorlan was perilously close to hitting his knees and pleading for one more kiss.

  “No, no. Nothing like that.” This time, she wrenched away from him. She stood several feet away, awash in golden sunlight. “I just…I want to be in love when I have sex.”

  “And I want you to love me, so I don’t see a problem.”

  She snapped, “I want the man to love me back. I want to know he respects me, and that he’ll stick around.”

  Tension stole through him. She wanted everything he couldn’t give her. I might…fail. “Katie—”

  “Being intimate will only complicate our relationship. I have no idea how I’ll react afterward. I haven’t…I mean I can’t…I mean I don’t know you well enough.”

  “From now on, I will gladly tell you whatever you wish to know about me.” As a young lad, he’d learned to keep certain information private. Anything you revealed to others could be used against you at a later date. Since he would only be here another thirteen days, if that, “a later date” hardly mattered.

  “No, you don’t understand.” Crisscrossing her arms across her middle, she said, “Right now, you want to share personal details because you think it’ll help you get into my pants. But I want a man who wants to share those kinds of details because he likes me. And he’ll want to learn more about me, too.”

  Jorlan could not fault her reasoning. “I like you very much when you kiss me.” Truth. “I like you when you make me sandwiches. I like you when you smile and laugh.”

  She began to soften, only to give a savage shake of her head.

  Disappointment clawed at him. “Why do you fight so hard against what you feel, katya?” Another lesson he’d received as a young lad—women were fragile creatures, and they could not handle the rougher truths about a warrior’s life. He’d never questioned the validity of such a mindset, until now.

  The woman had proven her strength every minute they’d spent together. She wouldn’t be a pretty decoration in some man’s bed; she would be a partner at his side.

  A concept Jorlan had never entertained before but…

  I am intrigued.

  Now she glanced away. To hide the emotion now glinting in her eyes? Because she feared whether or not he could handle the truth?

  Chest tightening, Jorlan settled two fingers beneath her chin and turned her head so that she faced him once again.

  In the amber of her eyes, he saw sadness, and it tore him up inside, guilt spreading through him like wildfire. She had saved him, yet he had brought her nothing but grief.

  “Let’s forget this ever happened and go eat breakfast, okay?” she said, rubbing her temples. “After work, I’ll do some research so we won’t end up visiting another fraud.”

  Forget? The image of her passion-glazed features had been seared into his mind. Long would the sweet taste of her linger in his mouth. If the little witch could easily push him from her thoughts…

  I must find a way to brand myself there.

  * * *

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

  Katie made her way through the café, chanting under her breath. The enticing aroma of fresh gourmet coffee enveloped her. Lights were dimmed for effect, the perfect contrast for the toffee-brown walls. A good-size crowd filled the tables and chairs, multiple conversations blending together.

  She’d discovered this place the same day she’d closed on Jorlan’s Victorian, and she’d come here every morning since. The food was good, the drinks divine and the employees entertaining.

  Frances, the middle-aged owner with frizzy gray curls and a wealth of freckles liked to bash the male species with anyone willing (or unwilling) to listen. She’d been married three times, and now swore she’d die single. Katie adored her.

  “Hey, doll,” Frances called from behind the counter. “Have a seat, and I’ll be right with you.”

  Katie slid into the only available booth, the shiny purple vinyl squeaking. Jorlan folded his long legs in the spot beside her, ensuring their sides touched. His spatula/weapon had to be digging into his skin, but he seemed too entranced with the goings-on around him to notice any discomfort.

  A family of four sat to their right, arguing about consuming chocolate this early in the morning. Katie agreed with the kids; there was never a bad time for chocolate.

  To the left, an older gentleman ate an omelet while reading a newspaper. Next to him was a pretty businesswoman Katie had seen every visit; a redhead in her early twenties, short, no more than five-one or -two, with dimples in her cheeks, curves for days, and breasts the size of watermelons that strained the buttons of her snow-white blouse. Katie’s sun-ripe tomatoes paled in comparison, and she resisted the urge to slump her shoulders.

  As if sensing her scrutiny, Red glanced in Katie’s direction…before noticing Jorlan and staring, wide-eyed and openmouthed.

  Would the alien want the redhead?

  Something dark and hot surged through Katie. And it wasn’t jealousy or even pre-jealousy, just in case. Nope. Jorlan was her responsibility, that was all, and she had to look out for his best interests. He had a ton of work to do and couldn’t afford to be distracted by a beautiful redhead.

  Still, Katie unconsciously fisted her hands as she fought the urge to launch over the table, a catapult of kicking legs and swinging arms.

  Deep breath in; deep breath out.

  “Do you know her?” Jorlan asked, motioning to the redhead.

  “No. Why do you ask?” Hoping for an introduction?

  Jorlan scratched a hand over the dark stubble that shadowed his jaw. “You look as though you are o
n the verge of committing cold-blooded murder.”

  Katie sputtered for a moment. “Who? What? Murder? Me?” She faked a laugh, but it was too brittle to be believable.

  Intrigued, Jorlan looked from the girl to Katie, once, twice. “She reminds me of the females in Imperia,” he said, continuing to stroke his chin, all evil villainesque. “Delicate. Fragile, even, as if she will shatter at any second.”

  “Nothing like Katie the she-beast, huh?” she muttered.

  Jorlan frowned. “You think I prefer tempering my strength, never able to lose myself in the female for fear I will cause lasting harm? You think I am happy walking away only marginally satisfied?”

  Her heart thudded against her ribs, and her mind whirled. Had he lied, hoping to further Katie’s seduction, or had he told the truth?

  “You want your usual, doll?” The gruff female voice shattered the moment.

  Katie forced her gaze to leave Jorlan and focus on Frances, who stood beside the table with a notebook in hand. “Yes, thank you. I’ll have my usual.”

  Another waitress came over and set two glasses of water on the table, then raced away, never saying a word.

  “What about the big guy?” Frances asked. “He wants an egg white omelet and apple slices, too?”

  “The big guy can speak for himself,” Jorlan said, his tone snippy.

  “Well, la-di-da to you.” Frances rolled her eyes and gave Katie a “what’s his problem” look. “So? What’ll it be? I’m just dying to hear what you want.”

  Frowning, he raised the menu and studied the words. A minute passed, then another.

  Francis tapped her shoe. She had a big heart for anyone in need, and little patience for everyone else. “Sometime today, big guy. I got other tables.”

  With a kingly air, he dropped the menu onto the table. “I will have what Katie is having.”

  “No, he won’t,” Katie said with a shake of her head. He’d said warriors like him ate meat, so, she’d get him meat. Let’s see, let’s see. Besides mayo and mustard, what would an extra-large alien enjoy having for breakfast? “He’ll have the meat lovers skillet with a double portion of bacon, a bagel with strawberry cream cheese, biscuits and sausage gravy, cheesy grits and three blueberry tarts.”