"I have finished my task," he said, his pride in his accomplishment evident.
She faced him. He had removed his shirt, and she saw that sweat beaded his forehead and chest. Several scratches from the sharp-edged rock marred his abdomen. Dirt streaked his brow. He looked like a primitive god, strong and confident and oh, so delicious. Knowing she was soon going to have all that strength above her and inside of her made her mouth water.
"What would you have me do next?" he asked.
"Why don't we talk?" she suggested.
His chin tilted to the side, and he watched her for one protracted moment. Satisfaction flittered through the depths of his eyes. He nodded. "We will talk."
Suddenly nervous--she didn't know why--she set her tools aside and pulled her knees up to her chest. "Have a seat. Please."
He eased down in front of her until they were eye to eye. Getting comfortable, he removed the weapons strapped to his body and set them at his side.
"I'd--I'd like us to get to know each other," she confessed.
Whatever reaction she'd expected, he didn't give it to her. He nodded calmly, assuredly, as if he'd known all along she would capitulate. "Why do you not begin?" he said. "Tell me about--"
"No!" Katie hadn't meant to shout the word, but she'd suddenly been overcome with a single fear. What if she told Jorlan about herself, and he didn't like what he learned? She wasn't like most other women; she was lacking in so many of the feminine graces. "I'd rather hear about you. Tell me about your family, about your past. If you want to, I mean."
"I will tell you anything you wish to know, katya." He stared at the wall just above her left shoulder, perhaps seeing through it, through the passage of time and galaxies to his "other" life. "Where should I begin?"
"At the beginning, of course."
"I thought as much." He sighed. His muscles smoothed beneath his skin, and he settled his back against the wall. "My father, Great-Lord Gui-en Sarr, a king, you would say, died a few spans before my confinement. He--"
"Your father was a king?" she demanded, incredulous. No wonder Jorlan expected his commands to be instantly obeyed. He was freaking royalty.
"Aye, but the throne will never be mine."
"Why not?"
"I was not chosen."
Her brow puckered with confusion.
"An Imperian great-lord is chosen by the Kyi-en-Tra Crystal," he explained. "Upon the death of the current lord, men journey from all over the world to touch the ancient stone, for whoever makes the crystal burn bright with crimson is known as the one true king until his death."
She could just imagine the impatient hopefuls standing in line, awaiting their turn to touch the stone. "So you didn't give the crystal color?"
He chuckled. "Do not look so sad for me, katya. My father's brother, Challann, took the throne. He was a good and just man. The people adored him, as did I."
"You would have made a spectacular king or lord or whatever."
A negligent shrug lifted his shoulders. "The people would not have agreed. To them, my sorcerer's bloodline tainted my royalty."
"That's discrimination."
"But the truth all the same."
Looking away from him, she tinkered with the scraps of linoleum scattered around her. "If you're thought tainted, why do you want to go back so badly?"
"'Tis my home," he said simply. Then shrugged again. "In Imperia, I may not be a great-lord, but I am a man of consequence, a warrior of great ability and power. Here I am only a man who must rely on a woman to see to my needs."
Yes, she could see how that would eat away at his pride.
Stretching out her long legs, Katie leaned back against the wall. Cool tile seeped through the thin material of her shirt. She felt as though there was something she was forgetting, something she wanted to tell him. When she realized what it was, her eyes widened, and she silently cursed herself for getting so caught up in his story of kings and princes that she hadn't said these words sooner. "I'm so sorry about your father's death."
He nodded to acknowledge her empathy.
"How did he die?" she asked gently.
Jorlan propped his elbow on his bent knee and hesitated only a moment before answering. "He was murdered. I commissioned several sorcerers to aid me in my search for the culprit, yet no one was able to divine the truth."
"Were there any suspects?"
"Many believed my half brother responsible, but Percen did not have the strength to rise from bed that eve, much less thrust a talon into a man's chest."
"How do you know?" She tried to keep her tone light and easy, not wanting him to see how sad she was for him, how she longed to wrap her arms around his neck and take all of his past pain away. "Your brother could have been faking his injury to give himself an alibi."
"'Tis not a possibility. He was recovering from a talon wound. A wound I inflicted."
His words elicited images of blood and war, a side of Jorlan she knew existed but didn't want to contemplate. She preferred instead to think of him as the charming, sexy man before her. A man who was a prince and should have been king. "If you had decided to challenge your uncle for the crown, could you have done it?"
"Why?" His gaze grew cold, like pools of ice in the winter. "Do you have hopes that I will take you back with me and make you my queen?"
"No," she assured him, a little offended that he thought so little of her. "I'm curious, is all. Your mother was--is--a sorceress, yet her bloodline didn't prevent her from becoming queen."
The coldness remained in his eyes, but it was no longer directed at Katie. He seemed lost in his memories. "My mother was never truly accepted. Her sovereignty and the authority it brings were ignored."
"That's awful."
"A marriage between a sorcerer and mortal has always been forbidden." He pushed out a breath and jerked a hand down his face. "Both my mother and my father knew this and accepted the consequences."
"Why is such a union forbidden?"
"Because mortal and immortal have different life spans. While a sorcerer can live forever, a mortal cannot. My mother watched my father grow old, while she remained young. Every day she became increasingly aware that my father was dying, that there was nothing she could do to save him. And then, suddenly, he truly was dead."
Compassion shimmered in Katie's gaze, and it affected Jorlan more than it should have, warming him all over. He had stepped inside this chamber thinking he was guarded against her allure. Yet as he spoke, sharing a part of his life he'd never shared with another, he was somehow making the connection between them grow stronger.
"Did your mother take another husband?" she asked, her tone as gentle as a fifth season breeze.
"Nay. She loved my father with all of her heart, and claims the heart can only love so greatly but one time. Besides, she abandoned her people to be with him; she even abandoned her first son, my half brother. No man of the Druinn would have her, and I doubt another mortal man would have her, either."
"Even though she is a former queen and high priestess?"
"Even then. The Druinn are loyal to Percen now, and would not wish to anger him." Percen...His image flashed in Jorlan's mind. As a child, Jorlan had prayed for a chance to meet his brother. He'd wanted someone to play with, someone to teach him the ways of magic. Yet his mother had always refused to introduce them, saying Percen belonged with his own people and needed no reminder of his mortal ties.
On the eve of his eighth span, Jorlan finally decided to visit his brother on his own. While his parents were too consumed with celebration details to notice his absence, he had sneaked away from the palace. For three hours he traveled, imagining the blessed meeting with every step. Percen's face would light with happiness, and he would take Jorlan in his arms and swing him around with joyful abandon.
His imaginings died a quick death when he entered the white sands of Druinn.
Percen recognized him instantly. Instead of happiness, a dark cloud of hatred had descended upon his brother. Percen
had pushed him, ridiculed him, spat on him, all the while destroying his boyhood dreams. Jorlan had never gone back, nor had he told his mother what had happened. He'd merely grieved in silence for the brother he would never know.
"I almost feel sorry for your brother," Katie said, her voice whisking away his bleak thoughts. "I mean, I ache for his loss. Losing a mother is difficult. Mine died of heart failure when I was nine years old, and I still miss her." Featherlight, her exhale swayed on the midday air. "I always knew she loved me. I don't know what I would have done if I'd thought she hated me."
That Katie could hurt for someone she'd never met--no matter that the person was his greatest enemy--touched Jorlan to the very core of his being. Not many people could be so understanding, so filled with empathy. Katie might strive for a hard, warriorlike demeanor, but she possessed the soft, caring heart of a woman.
Curse it. He didn't want to, but he liked this side of her.
Her lips began moving again, but he didn't catch the words. He was staring at her, Jorlan realized. Staring at her lush pink lips while the world around him ceased to exist. Unable to stop the images, his mind entertained pictures of those lips closing over his shaft, her pale hair spilling over his legs. Need uncurled inside of him like a lion awakening from an afternoon rest. His muscles clenched. If he did not distract himself, he would be ripping off her clothes, curse their talk and curse her resistance.
"Tell me about your life," he barked.
A look of panic darted across her expression, but was quickly replaced by determination. Silently, she watched him. He wondered what she was thinking. Heat soon grew in her gaze, hot and consuming, slowly cresting to the rest of her features.
She smiled seductively.
On her hands and knees she crawled to him, not stopping until her nose brushed his. "I was born November sixteenth. Blue is quickly becoming my favorite color, and when I die, I want it to be from pleasure." Then she planted her lips over his, took his tongue inside her mouth and sucked.
His body sprang to life immediately, and he groaned against her lips. Their tongues battled for control, thrusting, darting away, thrusting again. He wanted to howl when she eased back. She traced the seam of his mouth with her tongue, and he wrapped his arms around her waist, lest she decide to end the embrace altogether.
"Did you like that?" she asked instead.
"Aye."
"Want me to do it again?" In that instant, Katie wanted so badly to be naked, wanted Jorlan to be naked, as well. Without conscious thought--Lord, she couldn't think, only feel--she leaned into him, pressing herself more fully against him. Her nipples hardened, her lips tingled and her body came alive.
"Nay," he breathed.
"Nay?" She froze. She craved him with every ounce of her being and he didn't want her to do it again!
"This time," he said, "I want to do it to you."
As she sagged with relief, the pink tip of his tongue circled her lips, tasted every corner, nibbled every indentation. She twined her fingers in his hair, losing her breath completely when he shifted to lick her ear. "I want more." I need more.
"Then more you shall have."
"But just one more kiss," she whispered, recalling where they were. "One kiss and then we'll stop. If you still want me, we can start again later."
"I want you now, and I will want you later. So I will give you the one kiss you are asking for," he said, "but it will be a kiss that lasts all through the eve and requires our naked bodies to be entwined."
Before she could reply, his mouth reclaimed possession of hers. She opened for him, opened and cried out in pleasure at the same time. With each flick of his tongue, desire slammed into her forcefully, coaxing tremors from her. Hot and eager, mercilessly, he moved his mouth over hers. He slanted across her lips with a savage hunger that caused stars to twinkle behind her eyelids.
Their first kiss had been fiery and wonderful, but this was the essence of dreams. Soul-searing, erotic dreams. It made up for every second date she'd ever missed, every evening of bad company she'd ever endured, and every night she'd spent alone, wishing for someone to love.
Lost in his scent, his body, his maleness, she gave herself completely into the kiss, holding nothing back. Giving him every ounce of herself. Had other women ever experienced such bliss? A bliss that eclipsed reason and time? Movies and books lauded such passion, of course, but had anyone ever really tasted it as she was now?
How sad if they had not.
Her arms moved over Jorlan's muscled chest, feeling his skin, jagged in some places, smooth in others, but hot all over. She jerked the spatula from his waist and tossed it aside. His tongue continued to caress her mouth, bold and passionate. She pushed him down until he lay flat on his back. Her knees braced his sides, spreading her legs wide, and she arched her hips, thrusting slightly against his erection.
"Aye, just like that," he praised. "Again."
She arched once more. This time, the contact caused a ragged moan to slip from her throat because he arched, too, making the impact deeper. Stronger. Over and over they continued the motion. Then in one fluid motion, he tumbled her over, taking control and pressing himself between her open thighs. He trailed kisses of fire along her cheek. He swirled his tongue around her ear, dipped inside, pulled out, and dipped again. Had he stripped her naked just then, had he plunged into her body and buried his cock to the hilt, she would not have protested.
She would have thanked him.
This is the wild, wanton woman I've always longed to be, Katie realized. She felt utterly alive. So free. But reason tried to insert itself. You're lying on the bathroom floor. You've only known this man a few days. You wanted only one kiss.
Yes, she'd asked for only one kiss, and he was taking far more. In fact, he was ravishing her. The thought caused hot, heady moisture to pool between her thighs. How easily she pictured him holding her down and forcing her to face her desires. How easily she pictured...and how easily she wanted the fantasy to come true.
She wanted to be ravished.
"We have to stop kissing," she said, breathless. "We shouldn't be doing this."
"When you stop wanting my kisses, katya, then will I stop."
Oh, yes, my barbarian warrior. You're in control.
He pulled back a little, gazed down at her, his eyes smoldering to a fiery blue. He reached under her shirt, kneaded her breast, and decided the contact wasn't enough. He shoved her bra up, let his fingers roll her nipple, and then, suddenly, he froze. His growl echoed loud and long off the walls.
"With much regret do I recall our bargain." Dark emotion etched his expression. "I cannot give you pleasure unless you ask nicely. Or beg very prettily."
No, no, no. She wasn't supposed to beg for anything except mercy, and he wasn't supposed to be chivalrous! That wasn't how a man ravished a woman. He was supposed to take her, seduce her completely, damn the consequences. At this point she'd even settle for a "I know what's best for you, katya. I'm only doing this for you."
"This time, however," he half snarled, half moaned, "I will make an exception."
Oh, thank you. Thank you. She almost smiled. She did tighten her hold on his neck, ready for another mind-blowing kiss. Her elation was short-lived, however.
"You do not have to beg," he said. "You do not even have to ask. You only have to push me away if you wish me to stop. I will give you time to decide."
She didn't want time, damn it. She wanted his tongue in her mouth. Wanted his hands on her breasts. Now. But he was the ravisher, and she was the ravishee, and the fantasy wouldn't work if she forced herself on him.
"One, two three," he counted. "Time is up."
His mouth smothered hers.
Relieved, excited, she leaned up for his kiss. The silky heat of his tongue danced with hers. His body pushed against hers. He smelled so hot, so masculine. So delicious.
"What do you want me to do to you?" he demanded.
"I have no control over you," she breathed. "You'll do whateve
r you want, no matter what I say."
He jerked back, confused. "No, I--" Suddenly, comprehension dawned. He smiled wickedly. "That's right," he said, his tone heavy with authority. "I'll do whatever I want to you. Your protests mean nothing."
Hallelujah.
For what seemed hours, but could have only been minutes, he worked his hands over her body, learning her every curve, teasing her, tempting her, making her beg.
"Who is in control, katya?"
"You are," she whispered. "Only you."
"Do not forget."
"Never."
His big hands closed over her breasts. Intense pleasure rocked through her. He pinched her nipple at the exact moment he pressed his erection against her clitoris. Their clothes added to the friction, and she shot off like a Fourth of July rocket. Her moans became wild cries, a building crescendo, the force of which made her almost incoherent.
When she quieted, Jorlan held her for a long while, his shallow breaths in her ear. He pulled back, searching her face. "Katie," he said softly, "you have already--"
"I know. I'm sorry." How embarrassing. He was still primed and ready; she was all finished. But damn it, she hadn't been able to stop it, hadn't wanted to stop it. Her body had raced toward completion, heedless of anything else. "I truly am sorry. I just couldn't help myself."
"Do not apologize." His tone was reverent. "Simply do it again."
She slowly smiled. "Again? Really?"
"Most definitely. I command you." His lips claimed hers once more.
Her arms wound around his neck, holding him captive. Her ankles locked around his waist. He reached between them, grasped the neck of her shirt, and gave a sharp tug. The cotton split down the middle. She bit her bottom lip to keep from shouting her renewed excitement.
Jorlan was just reaching for her shorts, and she was just arching her back to give him better access, when a voice said from the doorway, "Uh, am I interrupting something?"
CHAPTER NINE
"NICK!"
Cheeks flaming, stomach filling with a sickening combination of dread, embarrassment and horror, Katie attempted to jump to her feet and disengage from Jorlan at the same time. Before she succeeded, he jolted to a battle position, his feet squared apart, his fists clenched, facing her brother with an expression that clearly read, "Prepare to die." The swift motion caused her alien's legs to pound against her knees.
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