Prince of Stone (Imperia)

by Gena Showalter

  “Are you having fun yet?” Katie whispered.

  “I am,” he replied, whispering, too. “Knowing your brothers will soon be drenched with your stinking concoction has put me in a very forgiving mood.”

  Another smile bloomed, this one full wattage. Then she faced her siblings. “Well.” She placed her hands on her hips. “Are you going to greet me or not?”

  In a snap, they rushed over, enfolding her in one sweaty embrace after another until she laughed and cried, “Enough.”

  “Glad you came,” Gray told her before kissing her cheek.

  “Don’t smother the girl,” her father barked. “No wonder she lives alone and refuses to marry a decent man. You’ve taught her to expect the worst. Also, you smell like a locker room!”

  “Now, now. Don’t go getting worked up about my unofficial singleness.” Katie wagged a finger in the direction of his chest. “It’s not good for your bum ticker.”

  “Well,” the detective blustered.

  “Besides,” she said, fluffing her hair, “the James brothers can’t help themselves. I’m irresistible.”

  “That you are,” Jorlan whispered, then he nipped her earlobe.

  In the sudden silence, everyone overheard his proclamation. Gray rolled his eyes and Nick chuckled.

  Her father watched them with something akin to irritation. “Who’s ready to finish the game?” He collected the ball from the ground. “Katie, go sit by Denver. He brought a friend, too. You gals can cheer for me. Jorland, why don’t you be on Nick’s team?”

  “It’s Jorlan, without a d,” Katie told him. “Pronounced Jore-lane.”

  For the first time, Jorlan noticed the lone woman perched beneath a bright yellow umbrella. Dark brown hair spilled around her shoulders. She wore a strappy dress made of light blue fabric, and seemed unaffected by the crackling heat.

  “Jorlan doesn’t know how to play basketball.” Katie swiped her sweat-beaded brow with the back of her hand.

  “What red-blooded American doesn’t know how to play basketball?” her father roared.

  “He’s not American.”

  “Doesn’t matter. He’s red-blooded, isn’t he?”

  “Um….” Katie peered at Jorlan with wide eyes.

  “He is,” Jorlan said. “And he knows the game. Over the spans I have observed many such events. I am happy to play, as long as Katie plays, as well.”

  “No way. She could get hurt.” This was, of course, said by her father.

  Anger sparked. How dare anyone exclude her from anything!

  He expected fury from her. She shocked him, simply arching a brow and deadpanning, “I’m your sixth son, Detective Dad. I can take anything you dish.”

  “Fine.” Ryan threw his arms in the air, as if he’d been pushed past his tolerance. “But we won’t play a typical game. We’ll take turns shooting from the line.”

  “Oh, I like that.” Nick rubbed his hands together. “Miss a shot, and you have to tell everyone your best pickup line. Maybe this way, Gray will finally learn how to approach women.”

  Gray slugged Nick’s shoulder. “I do just fine.”

  Katie rolled her eyes. “First, pickup lines are the only way to win a woman’s attention. Always use them. Second, I think I’ll sit this game out. I’d rather watch Jorlan get sweaty.” She skipped to the table under the umbrella’s shade and introduced herself to Denver’s guest. “Hi. I’m Katie. The one and only sister.”

  “I’m Madison.” The female wore big sunglasses that covered half her face. She had dark hair, flawless pale skin and the delicate beauty Jorlan had once preferred. Until Katie. She had changed him in a thousand different ways.

  “Come on, Jorleigh,” Gray called. “I’m ready to kick your ass. All I ask is that you stop yourself from curling into a fetal ball and sobbing for your mother.”

  “You gonna trash-talk or play?” Katie called back.

  “Why can’t I do both?” Gray replied.

  As her brothers summoned him over with more “trash talk,” Jorlan considered his tasks for the day. Win over her family. Win Katie’s heart. Figure out how to be with her, live on two different worlds with two different passages of time and live happily ever after.

  * * *

  SHADING HER EYES with her hand, Katie plopped into the seat next to Madison. “So, how long have you and Denver been dating?”

  “A few weeks.” Madison used a frosty tone and offered no more information.

  Hint taken. Katie also realized that Madison was the usual type of female Denver dated. Someone who needed icicles surgically removed from her veins. When would her brother find someone at least partially thawed?

  Without another word, she turned her attention to the men. They lined up in front of the goal, then took turns shooting the ball. When Jorlan’s turn arrived, he studied the goal and weighed the ball in his hands before shooting.

  The ball swooshed through the net, and Katie jumped up to cheer. The exuberant reaction pleased him, she could tell.

  Five rounds later, Nick was the first to miss.

  “Let’s hear your best pickup line. You guys were right. I need to learn…what not to say,” Gray finished with a laugh.

  Nick snickered. “I prefer a direct approach. Something like this.” Waggling his brows, he said, “Nice legs. What time do they open?”

  Madison gasped, scandalized.

  Katie chuckled, appreciative.

  Everyone else burst into laughter, Jorlan included. Her heart warmed at the sight. Why, why, why couldn’t she keep him and her family and her home?

  Her amusement drained in an instant. Life was so unfair.

  The game resumed, with Erik being the next to miss a shot. His line? “You’ve got two hundred bones in your body. How about one more?”

  Again, Madison gasped. “That’s gross,” she said, her nose scrunched with distaste.

  “That’s hilarious.” Katie tipped an invisible hat to Erik.

  On and on the game went. Jorlan had yet to miss. But he did get to hear gems like “I’d love to see how you look when I’m naked.” And “If I were you, I’d totally have sex with me.” And “Wanna play army? I’ll lie down, and you can blow the hell out of me.”

  Madison spewed her glass of water over that one.

  Finally, Jorlan missed a shot. Everyone stared at him in expectation. Just what constituted an Imperian come-on?

  His eyes crinkled at the sides, his irises merry. He was having fun. Spreading his arms, he said, “Here I am. What are your other two magic wishes?”

  Chuckles abounded, some a deep tenor, others a husky baritone. No one but Katie knew he meant “magic wishes” literally.

  “I’m starved,” Gray announced. He dropped the ball, letting it roll onto the grass. “Someone get into the kitchen and make me a sandwich.”

  Half a dozen sets of eyes shifted to her and Madison. “I am not fixing anyone anything,” Katie retorted, popping to her feet.

  “Don’t look at me,” Madison said, raising her hands, palms out.

  “Katie,” her father began. “While we’ve been working up a sweat, you’ve been sitting, enjoying your day. Fixing us lunch is the least you can do.”

  Words she’d heard throughout her entire life. “I was invited to a luncheon, not invited to prepare a luncheon. And guess what? We have this argument every time I come over. It’s one of the reasons I don’t come over.” When her mother had been alive, hamburgers, hotdogs, casseroles and fresh fruit punch had been served at every gathering. “You’re a big boy, and you’re well able to cook for us or order a pizza—and pay for it. The choice is yours.”

  Jorlan came to her and wound an arm around her waist. His sandalwood scent filled her nostrils, and her body reacted accordingly. Her blood heated, raw and primal need pooling between her legs.

  “No woman of mine serves others, much less ingrates,” he announced.

  Everyone stilled, awaiting an explosion from the detective. Katie grinned.

  “Ingrates!�
�� Ryan roared. “I’ll have you know—”

  “I’ll order that pizza,” Erik interrupted, clasping his dad’s shoulder.

  Katie barely acknowledged her brother. She was too busy reeling over Jorlan’s pronouncement. He wasn’t demanding she obey or stick to her place; he was supporting her, helping her. Caring for her. An undeniable sense of peace and rightness settled deep inside her.

  * * *

  JORLAN READ THE disbelief on Katie’s face, and felt shamed. Only days ago, he had expected her to see to his every need, catering to his every whim. Now these males were doing the same and…

  He. Did. Not. Like. It.

  Her family acted as if she were a second-class citizen, less important than everyone else. Did they not see she possessed the fire of a warrior? The courage? The boldness? She belonged at a man’s side, not at his back.

  “Can I speak with you a moment?” Ryan locked his hands behind his back and braced his feet apart. A battle position. He set his mouth in a firm but grim line. “In private.”

  Jorlan nodded in agreement. Katie opened her mouth to protest, but he gave her a slight shake of his head. “I will speak with him.” Would the male warn him away, or show his support?

  She hugged him, rising on her tiptoes to whisper, “His health isn’t great, so try not to make him mad, okay?”

  “For you…anything.” Words he meant. He lifted her arm and placed a soft kiss upon the sensitive skin of her wrist, then followed the older man inside the house. A cool blast of air enveloped him, welcoming him and drying his sweat.

  They entered a small room with dark wood walls, a desk and bookshelves. As soon as Jorlan shut the door, Ryan rounded on him, saying, “Just what are your intentions toward my daughter? The boys tell me you’re leaving her soon.” His eyes were the same light amber-brown as Katie’s, but lacked her teasing warmth.

  Jorlan crossed his arms over his chest. “Katie asked me to be gentle with you, thus I will ignore the disrespectful tone you continue to use while addressing me.”

  Ryan stared at him in stunned disbelief. However, his expression eventually softened. He settled on the couch with a loud plop. “Are you still set on leaving or what?”

  “Mayhap.” He knew he wanted to stay with Katie; he could not abide the thought of being without her. But staying on Earth meant never seeing his mother again, never becoming king, if that was his destiny, and never aiding his people. Never studying with the Druinn to learn to control his magic. Never using magic, period.

  Ryan nodded. “Well. Make up your mind. There’s nothing worse than indecision.”

  “There is more to the decision than you understand.”

  “Son, there’s nothing to understand. You either do what it takes to stay, or you leave. Me personally? I hope you stay. You’re just what she needs. She runs roughshod over everyone else, but you, I think, will have a chance of corralling her.”

  “She needs no corralling.”

  Ryan smiled faintly. “She’s my only daughter, you know. My baby.”

  “Aye. I know.”

  “Looks just like her mother. A bit taller, though. She gets that from me.” Proud tone. Proud bearing.

  Jorlan chose not to respond. He remained quiet, thereby encouraging Ryan to get lost in his memories. Only when the male’s eyes glazed over did he say, “Tell me about young Katie.” Imagining her with chubby pink cheeks and pale hair wild and tangled as she chased after her brothers, he grinned. And ached with some mysterious emotion.

  “Katie’s always been such a stubborn girl. Likes to keep me on my toes.” The detective launched into a tale about a time Katie collected a family of frogs in a lunch box to sneak them inside her room. “Her mother had died only weeks before, and she hoped to ensure the frogs stayed together forever.”

  Little Katie, sad and lonely. Pang. “Why do you treat her as a servant?”

  Ryan lost his soft edge. “I have never mistreated my baby girl.”

  “Oh, but you do. You command her to serve you.”

  A lengthy pause ensued. Then, Ryan expelled a deep breath. “Maybe you’re right, but my intensions are good. I only wish to protect her. Women are gentle creatures and in need of protection, even from themselves.”

  Once, Jorlan would have agreed with him. After spending time with Katie, he readily admitted the wrongness of such a mindset. Gender had nothing to do with strength of mind or body.

  Jorlan decided to answer the detective’s initial question. “My intentions toward your daughter are honorable. I asked her to wed me, but she said no.”

  Ryan blinked with surprise. “Did she give you a reason for the refusal?”

  “Aye, but ’tis between Katie and me.”

  “Well, I recommend you keep asking until she changes her mind. That girl is crazy about you.” He pushed to his feet and slapped Jorlan on the shoulder. “Good luck, son. You’re going to need it.” He strolled off, only to pause in the doorway to say, “Oh, one last thing. If you hurt her, I will kill you and no one will ever find your body.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  HEATHER WENT TO BED early that night, as she had the last two nights, hoping for another visit from her dream man. She didn’t have to wait long. Just as he had the other times, Percen materialized at her side as soon as she flipped off the bedside lamp, as if he couldn’t wait to see her.

  She snuggled against him, his body heat enveloping her, and she could not deny the truth. She was wide-awake; she wasn’t dreaming, yet here he was. She’d suspected he was more than a figment of her imagination, but now she knew for sure.

  He was real.

  The realization should have frightened her, but didn’t. He was real, yes, but he was also peace.

  How could he—what was the word? Oh, yeah. Teleport.

  Whomever he was, whatever he was—a ghost? vampire?—she loved spending time with him.

  He’d told her she belonged to him, and Heather wanted those words to be true. She wanted to be his, totally and completely. He hadn’t made love to her yet, or touched her in a sexual way.

  Silently, she studied this man she’d known only a short time, who’d become one of the most important people in her life. As she took in each of his features, he frowned and stiffened.

  Wait a sec. His face…why did he look like he wore a mask? His usually flawless skin, up-tilted eyes and straight, even nose appeared…too perfect? He was as beautiful as ever, his skin wonderfully tanned, his muscles hard as stone, but something wasn’t right.

  Maybe he’d always looked this way, and she was only just noticing. Or maybe she’d never seen his true face? But…how was that possible? How was any of this possible?

  His gaze met hers before darting away, but not before she caught a glimpse of mortification and deeply ingrained vulnerability. In that moment, he reminded her of herself, wounded and weary, and she wondered if he possessed the same bone-deep hurts as her.

  “I’m glad you came back,” she whispered into the darkness.

  “As am I. I cannot stay away.”

  Happiness set in. “I can’t get you out of my mind,” she admitted. “Every moment I worked, every moment I breathed I thought about you, wishing you were next to me.”

  He paused, hope radiating from his pores. Each syllable emerged stilted and hesitant, he asked, “What were your thoughts?”

  “I thought of the way you hold me, and the way you warm me. How much I enjoy both.”

  At first, he didn’t respond. Nervousness got the better of her. What if he preferred hard-to-get women and liked the challenge of a chase? What if her easy surrender drove him away?

  Then he spoke. “I like that you think of me, angel, I truly do, but mayhap you should not. I am not a good man.” The admission came reluctantly, and she noticed that every muscle in his body was tense, as if he was prepared to bolt. “What’s more, you have never seen my true countenance. I am…not a handsome man.”

  Though she trembled, she reached up to trace the line of his jaw. He felt rea
l. “I don’t understand.”

  “What you perceive me to be is merely a mirage. A mask of the man I can never be.” His dark, gritty tone had an accusatory edge. “I cast a spell that causes you to see only what I want you to see.”

  Spell? “You’re a witch? I mean, a warlock?” Was that the correct term? “They refer to beings who use magic. Fictional beings. I used to believe magic was real but…”

  “Oh, magic is real, and I most definitely wield it. I am a sorcerer. The Druinn high priest.”

  As a teenager, she’d dabbled in the supernatural arts, hoping to escape the terror of her life. But nothing and no one had ever helped her. “I have never met a handsome man I liked, until you. I don’t care about your outward appearance. Whatever you are and whatever you can do, I feel safe with you. You’ve been good and decent to me.”

  He didn’t comment, just caressed her cheek. While his hand appeared smooth and unblemished, it felt rough with calluses and scars. Another mask? Either way, the sensation elicited tingles at the back of her neck.

  “Percen?”

  “Aye, Heather.”

  “Is a spell responsible for my reaction to you?”

  He seemed to stop breathing. “What is your reaction to me?”

  To tell the truth or keep quiet? In the end, she admitted, “Lust.”

  His eyes widened with astonishment. “Nay. The magic is not responsible.”

  “Then it is you and you alone who makes me feel so alive.” And I want to keep him. Not just at night, but during the days, as well. Every day. Every week, every month. How could she give up this warmth, now that she knew it existed?

  “I—I do not know what to say, angel.”

  Angel. Her all-time favorite endearment. “Say you’ll stay with me.” She cupped his cheek to urge his gaze to her face. “Say you will stay with me always.”

  Pain flittered over his expression. “Heather, I am… I cannot…” He punched the mattress. “You will not understand.”

  She fought a wave of panic. He was withdrawing from her mentally and emotionally. She needed him in her life; somehow, in only these three nights, he’d become the center of her existence. She wanted them to have a normal life together.