Prince of Stone (Imperia)

by Gena Showalter

  “I don’t like hair ribbons, or frilly dresses with bows. I don’t like long fingernails because they’re a nuisance. I do like tools and football games, fast cars and sweatpants. I will eat chicken wings with the guys while tossing back beers.” She drew in a deep breath. “When my truck breaks down, I don’t have to take it to a mechanic. I do the repairs myself.”

  There. Now he knew all of her “unfeminine” attributes. Well, the Imperian idea of feminine and unfeminine anyway. And yeah, Earth, too.

  She waited for him to laugh, to crack a joke at her expense.

  He didn’t.

  “Come closer,” he said. He tugged her to her feet and ushered her to the body-length mirror on her right wall. He moved behind her, his palms on her shoulders.

  Blushing, she tried to pull away. He held her firmly in place.

  “Look, katya. See what I see.”

  She didn’t want to look. How embarrassing! She didn’t want to study her flaws while he watched. “No.”

  “Look,” he beseeched. “Look.”

  Because he’d asked so sweetly, she did.

  “Do you see how graceful your legs are? How pink and pretty your nipples are? The curve of your hips excites me every time I gaze at you.” Each place he named, he touched. A featherlight touch that caused her breath to hitch, her belly to quiver and her legs to shake. He whispered all sorts of things in her ear. Hot things that made her ache. Erotic things that made her blush. Sweet endearments that almost made her weep.

  Then he began speaking in his native tongue. A lilting language that flowed over her, arousing her to a fever pitch. He explored her cures, cupping her breasts, circling her navel and playing at the apex of her thighs. Things he’d done before, but this time she got to watch.

  I’m officially a voyeur now.

  “What do you feel when I touch you?” he asked, pinching her nipples.

  “Fire,” she said, panting. “Need. Ecstasy.”

  “’Tis the same for me. Why would learning about you change this for me?” He lightly kicked one of her ankles, forcing her legs to part. With a hand on her nape, he urged her to lean forward and grip the sides of the mirror.

  “Are we having sex?” she asked, breathless.

  In lieu of an answer, he dropped to his knees, gripped her hips, and tongued her clitoris, making her cry out in bliss.

  I am falling deeply and irrevocably in love with this man…and I’m days away from losing him.

  What was she going to do?

  How was she supposed to live without him?

  * * *

  HEATHER MERCER LAY on a small twin bed, frozen to the bone and shivering. The thin, ragged blanket that covered her did little to warm her up. Enveloped by tepid night air laden with summery scents, there was no reason for her to feel so chilled. But lately, nothing warmed her. Not coffee or hot chicken noodle soup. Not thick flannel jackets or leather gloves. The coldness came from too deep within her.

  Trying to distract herself from the discomfort, she concentrated on her new job. Tomorrow she would begin working for Katie James, a prospect Heather loathed almost as much as she celebrated. She needed the money, but the thought of spending hour after hour with the too-perfect woman who’d experience no real hardships in life made her stomach knot, wringing out acid.

  Some people were blessed with happy, normal lives. Some people were not.

  Katie’s success made Heather feel dirty, like a cheap piece of furniture in a room full of glorious antiques. The bitch had everything. Money. Talent. Love. Jorlan looked at her as if she were a pot of gold. Plus, Katie had brothers—bodyguards—who considered her a treasure.

  Perhaps if Heather had ever had a brother, he would have protected her from her father. Would have protected her from the long string of men who’d used her over the years as she searched for someone, anyone, to make her whole again.

  Rolling to her side, she hugged a pillow, pretending the soft down was a loving man who lived and breathed for her happiness. To him, she was more important than the portal to sexual release between her legs.

  After a while, darkness descended over her mind. She drifted off…

  Wake up!

  The shout came from her deepest self-perseveration instincts. Heather blinked open her eyes. Though she was toasty warm at last, panic set in. A male’s voice penetrated her awareness. He chanted quietly in her ear.

  Her first thought: not again.

  Her second: he isn’t my father, and I’m not a child. Who is he, and why is he here?

  He stood at the side of the bed, bathed in shadows, yet she had no problem cataloging his features. He was so beautiful, his features strong and chiseled. Classic perfection had always unnerved her; she didn’t like perfect. Outward beauty tended to mask inner ugliness.

  Her panic spiked into pure terror. She tried to kick him and roll away, tried to cry out, but he chanted something else, and a sense of relaxation stole through her, everything around her becoming hazy and distant. Like a new, wondrous reality. Peace settled over her, her breathing slowing.

  “You are dreaming,” he whispered. “Only dreaming.”

  Yes, of course. She was dreaming. A glorious dream she never wanted to end. Hadn’t she just wished for a loving man to warm her? And here he was. An apparition strangely familiar to her.

  Was he the source of her peace?

  “Who are you?” she asked, and she sounded drugged.

  “I am Percen.” The low timbre of his voice made her shiver with feminine awareness. But his accent…a match for Jorlan’s.

  “Percen,” she repeated. A name she’d never heard before. Percy, yes. Percen, no. “Why are you here?”

  “I have come for you, Heather.”

  “Me?” Her eyes widened with surprise. “I don’t understand.”

  “You belong to me.” His blue eyes bored into her, sending new currents of heat racing inside her veins. “Only me. Never again will you belong to Jorlan. Say it.”

  “Never again,” she parroted. Yes, she’d wanted Jorlan at first, maybe to hurt Katie, or maybe because she’d thought Jorlan was someone who could help her overcome her past. But she felt nothing for him, and she certainly didn’t belong to him. But this man…

  She might not mind belonging to him. She’d been many things in her twenty-four years, but never a woman who belonged with another. A companion. A comforter, supporter and provider.

  “What do you want to do with me?” she found herself asking.

  He remained silent for a long while, as if debating the best answer within himself. “Tonight, I will simply hold you. Do you want me to hold you?”

  “Oh, yes. Please. Hold me and never let me go.” She could trust a dream man not to harm her.

  In a blink, he lay at her side, her head resting in the hollow of his neck, one of her legs already draped across his thighs. His arm rested against her nape. Warmth inundated her.

  “Soon we will make love,” he said, somehow confident and nervous at the same time. “What think you of that?”

  “I think… I’ve never been happier,” she said, and it was the truth. The peace, she’d never experienced anything like it.

  He reached out to reverently trace the curve of her cheek, then slid his finger up and over her eyebrow. She didn’t cringe as she usually did upon contact with another person. Nightmares didn’t plague her. No, she felt cherished. Worshipped.

  “Promise me you’ll stay with me forever,” she whispered. “Please.” She rested her head on his chest, praying this heavenly dream would last all through the night. “I need you.”

  “Worry not, angel. I will stay you. Anyone who attempts to take you from me will die screaming.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  MIDMORNING SUNLIGHT FILTERED through the curtains, bright and luminescent. Jorlan lay flat on his back, one hand bracing his neck as he stared up at the ceiling. Katie was asleep, nestled deep in the crook of his arm. He’d meant to leave her alone this dawning, giving her body time t
o heal, but she’d had other ideas. She’d reminded him of their conversation about orgasm denial, and he’d heard the wanting in her voice.

  He grinned. Hearing her beg for release…

  Pride puffed his chest. My katya loves her pleasures.

  And I love giving her those pleasures.

  Never had a tupping been so fun and playful. Or so moving. So intense. He’d taken her gently, and he’d taken her fiercely. He’d felt raw inside but better than ever. He felt wholly carnal, wrapped up in sensation….and wholly grounded, wrapped up in logic. He’d felt complete and incomplete, hungry and sated, certain and uncertain.

  What he’d experienced with Katie had been as all-consuming as a third-season wind whirl. Unstoppable! And by Elliea, he yearned to experience it again and again.

  The pleasure he felt with her was staggering, and no sooner had his pulse calmed than he’d gone back to war with the nagging, constant need to possess her again. He hadn’t known he could get that hard that often or that quickly.

  He knew how rare and special his encounter with Katie was. Did she? His little witch had no basis for comparison. And he wasn’t complaining. The knowledge that no other man had possessed her body awed and humbled him. His possessiveness defied reason, for virginity was not prized or expected in Imperia. Females reveled in their lovers just as males. In fact, the more lovers a female took, the more prized she became, her knowledge of heightening a partner’s pleasure greatly increased.

  Before Katie, everyone he’d ever tupped had years of experience. Some, like Maylyn, had even possessed more experience than Jorlan.

  Katie was so different from anyone he’d ever known. His desire for her went beyond the physical, and now, more than ever, he wanted her to belong to him, with him. Forever my bride.

  He could deny her importance to him no longer. Importance that did not stem from her role in the curse. It might have started that way, but things had changed.

  He had changed.

  Once, he’d wanted her on a temporary basis. An idea he now found abhorrent. Aye, she was mortal and he had the blood of sorcerers; they would age at different speeds…unless they wed and bonded, as he’d considered doing. He could not tolerate life without Katie at his side.

  He cared for her far more than he’d previously realized. He admired her greatly. The way she stood her ground. The way she raised her chin before forging ahead to complete a difficult task. The way she overcame every challenge thrown at her. The way her convictions never wavered; the way she fought for what she wanted. Her courage. She always faced him head-on, and never flinched. She was strong, capable and courageous. The woman had a backbone of steel. Her bravery far surpassed that of any warrior he’d battled against or beside. She did not need a keeper, protector or a man to find her happiness; she was independent. She stayed with Jorlan because she wanted him, a much better reason.

  Careful not to disturb her, he shifted and propped himself up on his elbow to gaze down at his bedmate. So beautiful. She was naked, her pale, glossy locks tangled and splayed over the pillow.

  As he stroked the curve of her cheekbone, she muttered something unintelligible. Contentment filled him, so subtle yet so compelling and a long time in coming.

  What were her feelings for him, now that they’d spent a night making love?

  He’d thought he could win her heart in bed, but he’d come closer to relinquishing his own. Had her feelings for him deepened at all? He prayed that it was so. He had a week to win her, or he would return to stone.

  Fighting panic, he focused on her lips. Pink, pretty and slightly swollen from his kisses. The tension drained from him. His beard stubble had left scratches on her breasts, stomach and thighs. He hadn’t been able to get enough of her, just as she hadn’t gotten enough of him. One seductive touch would ignite a blaze inside her.

  As if she knew the direction of his thoughts, she stirred in his arms, slowly cracking open her eyes. Magnificent gold, rimmed with bronze. Seconds ticked by before the sleepy mist in her irises evaporated. Rosy color bloomed in her cheeks, memories most likely flooding her mind.

  She looked well-loved and tousled, as though she’d just experienced a vigorous bout of loving. Which she had. It was a look he hoped she wore at every new dawning.

  And afternoon.

  And evening.

  Even now, he wanted her again. Having a woman had never felt so important. So necessary. But he needed a declaration of love versus a showing of it. Would he get one?

  “Good morning,” she said, her voice raspier than usual.

  “Aye.” He smiled at her, hopeful but also dreading what was to come. “’Tis indeed a good dawning.” With the capacity to be better. Or worse.

  “Are you hungry?” she asked. “I can make breakfast.”

  His heart drummed in his chest. “Unless death is imminent, I would rather stay here with you awhile longer.”

  “Okay. What should we do, then?” She traced a fingertip up his chest. “Have anything in mind?”

  He studied her sparkling gaze t through her fan of thick, spiky lashes. “You are too sore for penetration, but we can do other things.”

  “I’m sore, but never too sore. I doubt I’ll be able to jog today, so I gotta have some sort of workout. And I’ve been wondering…” Sweet and innocent, she blinked up at him. “How crazy can I make you with orgasm denial?”

  “Beyond.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” A wicked glint lit her eyes. “So let’s get started, shall we?”

  * * *

  AN HOUR LATER, Katie sat at her kitchen counter, drinking a protein shake to recharge. I’m a wildcat, she thought happily. If she and Jorlan hadn’t been making love last night, they’d been cuddling or chatting.

  A secretive grin curved her lips as she shifted in her seat. Ow! She grimaced. Muscles she hadn’t known she possessed were sore after the night of excess. But she didn’t regret a single experience. No, she rejoiced. She’d plunged headlong into an odyssey of bliss.

  She took another sip of the shake, closing her eyes in surrender. Perhaps the constant orgasms had chased away a fog, the world suddenly clearer. Her senses suddenly stronger. Food had never tasted so sweet, and the air had never smelled so delectable. Her clothing had never felt so soft.

  If only she could have spent the entire day abed, making memories with Jorlan. A pang cut through her chest. What kind of life would she lead once Jorlan returned to Imperia?

  Inner shake. No lazing abed, and no mooning about what could, would or should be. She had way too much to do. The Victorian needed to be painted inside and out, well, yesterday. Yet she hadn’t even begun.

  Jorlan sauntered into the kitchen, shirtless, his only garment a pair of sweatpants.

  He looked good. Better than good. He also looked magnificently horny, an erection tenting the pants.

  If Earth men had been so lusty, women would never want to leave the bedroom. Or the kitchen. Or the living room.

  “Something smells wonderful, and I’m hungry for her,” he said, winking at her.

  Her heart fluttered. He’d taken a shower, his hair damp. “Good thing. Breakfast is ready, and I don’t just mean the buffet of feminine delights I cart around every second of every day.”

  For the first time in years, she’d cooked for a man. Something she’d sworn never to do again. In the past, when she’d cooked three freaking meals a day for her dad and brothers, she’d felt like an unpaid servant. With Jorlan, she’d felt like a woman taking care of her man, and she’d loved it.

  He moved behind her, leaned down and nuzzled his cheek against hers. The tickle of stubble made her laugh. “Perhaps the first course can be that buffet of feminine delights you mentioned, and the second course can be….”

  “Pancakes, eggs over medium, hash browns and cinnamon rolls.”

  “A feast for a king. I thank you, katya. Perhaps the buffet of feminine delights could be the second course instead?”

  She preened, a wave of tendern
ess sweeping through her. Her father had never thanked her. Her brothers had thanked her occasionally, but only in passing and only after mentioning what she needed to do better next time.

  Needs more salt, Kit Kat. Oh, and thanks for the grub.

  Can you make my eggs less runny? Thanks, K, appreciate it.

  Don’t worry, Kat, I can cut the burnt parts off my toast. Thanks!

  She swiveled her chair, facing Jorlan. “I have something for you to taste.”

  “Very well. You changed my mind again. Buffet first, food second.” He leaned down to nibble on her earlobe.

  She laughed and swatted him away. “Open your mouth.”

  Though he hesitated, he did as she’d instructed. While cooking, she’d found a Hershey’s bar. Now she snapped off a square and placed it onto his tongue.

  “Close,” she said.

  He did. Only a second later, his eyes widened, the sweetness registering. “Katya,” he breathed, his tone reverent. “We must cover your entire body with this magnificent concoction.”

  “Agreed.”

  Three hours, much chocolate and loving, breakfast and a shower later, they drove to the Victorian. Frances and Heather were already there, waiting on the porch. Had she known the pair planned to start early, she wouldn’t have allowed Jorlan to seduce her again. Well, she wouldn’t have allowed him to seduce her so slowly.

  “Good afternoon,” she said.

  Frances gave her an eager smile, shaving ten years off her age. “Good afternoon, yourself.”

  “I hope you haven’t been waiting long. Jorlan and I were…unexpectedly delayed.” As she spoke, she blushed, telling them exactly what she’d been busy doing.

  Frances patted her shoulder, as if she’d just lost a loved one. “Maybe you’ll have a better day tomorrow.” She patted Heather’s shoulder next. “We’re ready to start, right, baby?”

  Heather leaned against the porch wall, her eyes faraway and dreamy. The tension she’d carried around only yesterday had vanished. She looked like an ad for tranquility.