The Stone Prince

by Gena Showalter

  Oh, she felt so unbelievably wonderful. The things she'd done, the things she'd said, didn't embarrass her. She reveled in them and the power they had over such a dominating man. Outside her window the stars twinkled brightly, like little diamonds scattered across black velvet. The world seemed to have slowed down. Everything, including the air and the softly chirping crickets, was quiet with the reverence of the moment.

  Her fingers stroked Jorlan's chest, rising and falling with the ridges of his muscles. On each side of his ribs, four parallel welts slashed downward. She liked that she had put them there, a subtle reminder of her presence. She sighed, a breathy sound that rumpled what little chest hair he possessed. For the rest of her life, she would recall this night. Recall every sound, every scent, every sensation. Lord, she already craved more of the orgasms, the intimacy, and the afterglow. They were everything she'd never known she needed, and they were branded inside her memory in a way that no other man would ever compare.

  Forget First Date Syndrome. She now suffered from Comparison Disease.

  Katie couldn't summon the energy needed to worry about it, though. Lying in his arms was weaving a slumberous spell around her brain. Jorlan's heat seeped into her, drugging, comforting.

  Her eyes had just closed completely when Jorlan said, "Now, little witch, we will talk."

  "About what?" Her voice was raspy and lethargic, and she didn't open her eyes.

  He rolled her onto her back and stared down at her. "About why you did not mention your untried state."

  Her eyelids popped open. She absolutely did not want to have this conversation, but he seemed so intent, she realized there was no way he'd leave her alone until she confessed. "At what moment was I supposed to blurt out that I was a virgin?"

  "After our first kiss. After we almost made love on the bathing chamber floor. During our trip to see Mon Graig."

  "Okay, so I had the opportunity."

  "Aye, you did."

  "I just didn't want to seem inexperienced."

  He nodded his understanding. "But why me?"

  "I'd never met the right man until you."

  His expression became thoughtful. "That is part of the answer, I think, but not the whole."

  He was too perceptive, damn him.

  "Has no man of your world ever courted you?" he asked.

  "Well, yes. Some have tried."

  "And failed." Pure masculine pride laced his tone. "Were they lacking in some way?"

  He meant the question to be rhetorical, she could tell, but she answered him anyway. "The problem wasn't with the men I dated. The problem was with me. Something was lacking inside me, and they just didn't fill the need."

  His brows smoothed as he pondered her words. "What was lacking in you?"

  "Interest."

  Slowly, he smiled.

  "I just...well...I wanted a man who was taller than me."

  That smile of his continued to grow. "I am that."

  "And I wanted a man who made me feel like a woman, not just one of the boys."

  He kissed her eyelid as soft as a butterfly wing. "I do that."

  "Yes, you do." But she wasn't finished. "I wanted a man who desired me despite my height, despite my temper, small as it is, and despite my unwomanly interests."

  Lightly he pressed his lips to hers. "I desire you because of those things."

  "Do you?" Her heart flip-flopped. "Do you really?"

  "How can you doubt me?" He planted his elbows on either side of her head. She felt his erection press between her naked thighs, though he didn't enter her. Her body instantly responded, heating and rushing blood through her like an awakened river. But still he did not ease inside her, didn't touch her more intimately. He became pensive. "We will not proceed until you tell me about your life."

  Her lips pursed. So he'd caught her reluctance to share, had he? Lord, she wished he hadn't. Especially now. She wanted so desperately for him to continue thinking of her as a woman, a sexy, ravishing female. If he knew just how unfeminine she was, he might stop lusting for her.

  "I'm tired. Why don't we continue this conversation in the morn--"

  "Nay. You will speak of what I wish. Now."

  "Or what? You'll pummel me?" Her challenging air quickly became breathless arousal. The feel of him so near her entrance, yet not quite inside her was exciting and frustrating. Then he brought his fingers into play, teasing her in a way guaranteed to propel her toward mindlessness.

  "I will not pummel you, katya. I will beat you. Most soundly." His lips twitched, completely undermining his threat. "You claim you desire a man who truly sees you, but how can I do that if you will not share your life with me?"

  How could she deny this man anything? She sighed. "What do you want to know?"

  "Everything," he said, mimicking her response to the very same question.

  So Katie told him about her life. He listened intently and chuckled every so often at her childhood antics. She told him about her fears, her hopes and dreams. At one point, he became so silent, so serious, she almost ended the conversation, but she decided to confess the worst of it before she lost her nerve.

  "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 jeans." She drew in a deep breath. "When my truck breaks down, and I mean the engine and transmission, not just the tires, I don't have to take it to a mechanic. I do the repairs myself."

  There.

  Now he knew all of her unfeminine attributes.

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

  He didn't.

  "Come here," 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 asked so sweetly, she did.

  "Do you see how graceful your legs are? How pink and ripe your nipples are? And 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. He whispered all sorts of things in her ear. Hot things that made her ache. Erotic things that made her blush. Sweet endearments that made her weep.

  Then he began speaking in his native tongue, a lilting language that floated over her, arousing her in a way she'd not imagined. His hands were all over her--hands she could feel and now see as well. Her legs shook with the force of her desire.

  "What do you feel when I touch you?" he asked, never removing his hands.

  "Fire," she panted. "Pure fire."

  "'Tis the same for me. Think you a woman lacking feminine graces could heat my blood so thoroughly?" That said, he parted her legs and took hold of her waist. Then he entered her from behind, slowly pushing all the way inside, making her cry out in bliss.

  Even through her passion-glazed mind she understood the impact of his words.

  My God, she thought, suddenly panicked. I truly could fall deeply and irrevocably in love with this man--only to lose him.

  HEATHER MERCER LAY on her small twin bed, shivering with cold. The thin, ragged blanket covering her did little to keep her warm. The night air was tepid and laden with summer scents, so there was no reason for her to feel so chilled. But lately, nothing seemed to make her warm. Not coffee or hot chicken soup. Not thick flannel jackets or black leather gloves. The coldness came from too deep within her.

  Trying to distract herself from her shivering, she allowed her mind to drift. Tomorrow she would begin working with Katie James, a prospect Heather loathed almost as much as she was grateful for. She needed the money, but the thought of spending hour after hour with the too-perfect woman made her stomach knot. How many reminders did she need that some p
eople were blessed with happy, normal lives--and some people were not?

  Around Katie, Heather always felt dirty and used. Like a cheap piece of furniture in a room full of glorious antiques. Katie had everything. Money. Talent. Love. Jorlan looked at her as if she were gold, and Katie spoke of her brothers as if they were gods.

  Perhaps if Heather had had a brother, he would have protected her from her father. Would have protected her from the long string of men who had used her over the years as she searched for someone, anyone, to make her whole. Rolling to her side, Heather clutched her pillow to her body, pretending the soft down was the heat of a man, a man who considered her more important than a six-pack of beer. A man who thought she was worth more than what rested between her legs.

  After a while, her thoughts tapered off and she slowly descended into darkness. A minute passed, or maybe an hour, when her mind shouted for her to awaken. She was toasty warm. So deliciously warm. The sound of a deep, male voice chanted quietly in her ear, and she stretched languidly, loving the depth of her dream.

  The man spoke again, and this time she understood him. He uttered a single word: Awaken.

  Her eyelids fluttered open. A strange man hovered above her. Fear sparked to life inside of her, an old familiar fear she'd endured her entire childhood. She tensed, tried to jerk away, to cry out, but the man chanted something else, something that lured her to relaxation. Everything around her slowly became hazy and distant, like a new, wondrous reality. Peace she could not explain settled over her.

  Slowly breathing in and out, Heather totally and completely relaxed. Her arms and legs felt shackled to the bed, but as she gazed down at her body, she saw that she was free. Why then could she not move? Oh well, it didn't matter. She didn't want to move. She was happy right where she was.

  "You're dreaming," she heard echo softly in her mind.

  Yes, she was still dreaming, a glorious dream she never wanted to awaken from. Hadn't she just wished for a man to warm her? Yes. Yes, she had, and her wish had come true in the form of this twilight apparition. An apparition that felt strangely familiar to her. Sighing, she settled into the firm male chest and stared up at his face. Her breath snagged in her throat. He was so beautiful; his features were strong, chiseled and classic perfection. Such physical perfection unnerved her, and she didn't like it. But she didn't try and pull away. He was keeping her warm, after all.

  "Who are you?" she whispered.

  "Percen." The low timbre of his accent, an accent very much like Jorlan's, made her shiver with feminine awareness.

  "Percen," she repeated, liking the sound on her lips.

  "I've come for you," he said.

  Her eyes widened with surprise. "Me? I don't understand."

  "You belong to me." His eyes bored into her, making her shiver as currents of heat continued to race inside her veins. "Only me. You will never belong to Jorlan again."

  She liked those words too much to correct him. Yes, she'd wanted Jorlan at first, maybe to hurt Katie, or maybe because she'd thought Jorlan was someone else, someone who could help her overcome her past. She felt nothing for him, though, and she certainly hadn't ever belonged to him. But this man...this man she wouldn't mind belonging to. She'd been many things in her twenty-two years, but never a woman who belonged.

  "Since I'm yours to do with as you please," she said, "what are you going to do with me?"

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

  "Oh, yes." She was so warm. Warmer than she'd ever been. "Hold me and never let me go."

  "Soon I will make you mine in body. What think you of that?"

  "I think I've never been happier," she said truthfully.

  He reached out and reverently traced the curve of her cheek, slid his finger up and over her eyebrow. She didn't cringe as she usually did. She didn't feel her mind burst with nightmares. She felt cherished. Worshipped. Here in the twilight, the impossible stirred in the air like magic. This wasn't a room, and they weren't lying in a bed. This was a secret haven far away from civilization and they were lying in a hidden grotto while birds and insects chirped around them.

  "Promise me you'll stay with me," she whispered. "Please." She rested her head on his chest, praying this heavenly dream would last all through the night.

  "Worry not, angel. I will stay."

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  MIDMORNING SUNLIGHT PEEKED 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 and nestled deep in the crook of his arm. He'd meant to leave her alone this dawning, to allow her body time to heal, but the rope had beckoned and he'd longed to introduce her to the many ways of lovemaking. So he had, and she had welcomed the introduction most eagerly.

  Now however, when he should be sated, his thoughts refused to settle. For a man who valued control, he felt very...uncontrolled. He was moved to the core by the intensity of what happened each time he joined his body to Katie's and could not wrap logic around the emotions still coursing through him. Simply saying he and Katie coupled did no justice to what occurred. Tupping was a pleasure, sometimes gentle, sometimes raw and carnal, a hunger that could be quenched by any number of things.

  What he'd experienced with Katie had been as intense and consuming as a third-season wind whirl. And by Elliea, he wanted to experience it again and again. The pleasure he felt with her was staggering, and no sooner had his pulse calmed than he had begun to feel the nagging need to possess her again. He hadn't known he could get hard that often and that quickly.

  He knew how rare, how special, his encounter with Katie was. But did she? His little witch had no basis for comparison, for she had remained untouched until his possession last eve. He was not complaining. The knowledge that no other man had ever touched her body still awakened a possessiveness within him that defied reason. Yet virginity was not prized, nor expected in Imperia. Women reveled in their lovers just as men did. In fact, the more lovers a female took, the more prized she became, for her knowledge in heightening her partner's pleasure was greatly increased. Besides Katie, every female he'd ever tupped had been experienced in the art of pleasure and some, like Maylyn, had even possessed more experience than he did.

  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.

  He could not deny it any longer. That he had once wanted her on a temporary basis seemed somehow foul to him now. Aye, she was mortal and he half sorcerer, but he was not concerned with that fact. He might very well age as the mortals did. He did not know for sure. But he knew cursed well that he could not tolerate life without Katie at his side.

  He cared for her, aye, he'd known that for a while; but he also admired her. He admired the way she stood her ground, the way she raised her chin and overcame whatever challenges were placed before her. He admired the way she never wavered in her beliefs, never raced away from his anger. She always faced him, square on, and never flinched. She was strong. Capable. Courageous. There was underlying steel in her backbone. Her bravery far surpassed that of any warrior he'd ever encountered. She did not need a keeper, was in fact well able to take care of herself. He favored that about her, as well, even while he craved the responsibility of protecting her.

  Careful to leave her undisturbed, he shifted, propping himself up on his elbow and gazing down at his bed-mate. In sleep her features were relaxed, giving her an almost childlike beauty. Stroking a finger across the curve of her cheekbone, he listened as she muttered something unintelligible. Contentment, so subtle yet so compelling--and a long time in coming--filled him.

  What were her feelings for him after their night of loving?

  He'd finally taken her, only to discover his own feelings had deepened. Had hers deepened, as well? He prayed that it was so. Another day had alrea
dy been lost to him.

  Katie lay naked, not an inch of covering over her body and he vowed to keep her like that for the rest of their days. Glossy, pale locks surrounded her head in a tangled mass. Her lips were slightly swollen from his kisses. Pink scratches lined her breasts, stomach and thighs from his beard stubble. She looked sexy and completely sated. One seductive touch, however, and he knew an intense ache would ignite within her.

  He grinned, recalling how wantonly she responded to his touch.

  As if she knew the direction of his thoughts, Katie stirred in his arms. Slowly, she cracked open her eyes. Seconds ticked by. The sleepy mist surrounding her completely evaporated. Color bloomed in her cheeks. Memories of what they had done danced in her eyes, making the brown rims deepen to a rich, golden bronze. She looked tousled, as though she had just awakened from a vigorous bout of loving. Exactly how he wanted her to look every dawning.

  In that moment he knew he would not rise from the bed until he had her again, for having a woman had never felt so important. So necessary.

  "Good morning," she said, her voice tinged with sleep. "Well, good afternoon, I should say."

  "Aye." He smiled. "'Tis indeed a good dawning."

  "I, uh, guess I should make breakfast or something. I believe I promised you a seven-course meal the day we made love."

  Made love, she had said. His heart drummed in his chest. 'Twas close to what he needed to hear, but not exactly right. "You are wrong. You promised me a seven-course meal the day you allowed me to massage your hair."

  She returned his grin. "I'm sure you did that sometime during the night."

  "That and more. But unless death is imminent," he told her, "we will stay here a while longer."

  "Okay. What do you want to do?" She traced a fingertip up his chest.

  He remained silent for a long moment, studying her every second of it. Her gaze sparkled through thick, spiky lashes. "You are too sore for bed sport." But he knew he would do whatever was needed to make her ready.

  To his relief, she said, "I'm sore, but never too sore. I doubt I'll be able to jog today, so I need some sort of workout. And I've been wondering..." Sweet and innocent, she blinked up at him. "How do you feel about being the slave of a queen?"