The Stone Prince

by Gena Showalter

So far, things were not going well.

  None of her brothers had been expecting her, obviously, because they stood all in a row, staring at her, waiting for her to reveal how they would be received. They all wore equal expressions of guilt and shame. Well, except for Nick, who was grinning as if he was having the time of his life.

  "Hey, Jorlan," Erik finally said, ignoring her altogether.

  "Hey," all the others called. Gray even gave Jorlan a stiff nod.

  "Good dawning to you," Jorlan said. Of all of Katie's brothers, he liked Gray the best. The man had a way of intimidating everyone around him, a fine quality for any warrior to possess. Not that he intimidated Jorlan, however. Or Katie for that matter. In fact, the hard lines of Gray's face softened every time he glanced at his sister, ruining his I'm-about-to-kill-you frown.

  How pathetic, Jorlan thought, his high praise for Gray evaporating. Couldn't the man remain outwardly unaffected while dealing with the opposite sex?

  Katie chose that moment to glance at Jorlan. A smile grew on her lips, warm and intimate. He knew those lips felt like heated satin against his skin. He knew they tasted like the sweetest gartina petal.

  His features relaxed.

  The James men were hard and golden, yet Katie was soft and fair. Each man present could have easily passed for Imperian warriors. Katie, though, would not have blended with the men or the women of his world. She was too exotic-looking, too opinionated and commanding. If he introduced her to his warrior friends, they would surely string him alive, fearing such a spitfire would embolden their women. But ah, what fun he and Katie would have!

  For some reason, all of the James men were lined up side by side, now staring at him with hard expressions. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared right back at them.

  "Are you having fun yet?" Katie whispered in Jorlan's ear. She turned her attention back to her brothers. Knowing they would soon be drenched with baby powder put her in a forgiving mood. "Well," she said, hands on hips. "Are you going to greet me or not?"

  In a snap, sweaty male arms and chests enfolded her. "Enough," she laughed.

  "Glad you came," Gray told her, then kissed her cheek.

  "Don't smother the girl," her father barked. "You all smell like a locker room and I don't want you to gag her to death. God, no wonder she lives alone and refuses to marry a decent man. You've all given her a bad impression."

  "Don't get all tense, Dad." Katie pointed a finger at his chest. "It's not good for your health."

  "Well--" he blustered.

  "Besides, the James brothers can't help themselves. I'm irresistible."

  "That you are," Jorlan whispered against her ear.

  In the sudden silence, everyone overheard. Gray rolled his eyes at the sweet entreaty. Nick chuckled. Her dad watched them with narrowed eyes. "Who's ready to finish the game?" He grabbed the ball from the ground. "Katie, go sit by Denver's friend. You gals can cheer for me. Jorlan, why don't you be on Nick's team?"

  For the first time, Katie noticed the lone woman perched beneath the bright-yellow patio umbrella. Dark-brown hair spilled around her shoulders. She wore a lightweight, strappy sundress made of light-blue fabric and somehow managed to look cool and sophisticated amid 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 dad roared.

  "He's not American."

  "Doesn't matter. He's red-blooded isn't he?"

  Actually, she didn't know.

  "I know the game," her alien lover said. "Over the spans I have watched several of them played. I will play, but I would like Katie to play, as well."

  "Girls shouldn't play sports, son. They can get hurt." This was, of course, said by her father as he gave her a pointed look that conveyed the message: don't disappoint me by stepping beyond feminine boundaries yet again.

  She just arched a brow. "I'm your sixth son, Dad. I can take anything you dish."

  "Fine." Ryan threw his arms in the air, as if he'd been pushed to the last level of his tolerance. "But I'm not willing to take a chance that you'll get trampled. We'll just take turns shooting from the line."

  "Oh, I like that," Nick said with a sly grin. "First one to miss has to tell everyone his best pickup line. Maybe this way, we can teach Gray something about women."

  Gray slugged him in the shoulder.

  Katie rolled her eyes. "I'll sit this one out, boys, but I do thank you for the offer." While she would have loved playing with Jorlan, she had a much stronger desire to watch him. She skipped to the shaded umbrella table and introduced herself to Denver's friend. "I'm Katie. The sister."

  "Madison." Madison wore big sunglasses that covered half her face. This close up, her dark hair appeared glossy, like chocolate tinted silk. She was pretty in a delicate, pixieish sort of way.

  Shading her eyes with her hand, Katie plopped down in an available seat. "How long have you and Denver been dating?"

  "A few weeks." Madison's tone was cool, and she offered no more information.

  Katie got the hint. She also realized that Madison was the usual type of female Denver dated--a woman 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 were all lined up in front of the goal, taking turns shooting the ball. When Jorlan's turn arrived, a look of such intense concentration masked his face. He studied the goal, weighed the ball in his hands, then finally shot. The ball swooshed through the net.

  Five rounds later, Nick missed.

  "Let's hear your best pickup line. Maybe I can learn something--not to say," Gray finished with a laugh.

  Nick's mouth twitched with amusement. "I prefer a direct approach. Something like this. Nice legs." He wiggled his eyebrows. "What time do they open?"

  Madison gasped.

  Katie chuckled.

  All of the men burst into laughter, including Jorlan. Her heart warmed at the sight. How wonderfully he was interacting with her family. And he wasn't even hammered! Her smile slowly faded. Why, why, why couldn't she keep him?

  Life was so unfair.

  Erik was the next to miss. "You've got two hundred bones in your body. Want one more?"

  Again, Madison gasped. "That's disgusting," she said scathingly.

  On and on the boys played until she'd heard everything from, "I'd really like to see how you look when I'm naked." To, "You know, if I were you, I'd have sex with me." To, "Wanna play army? I'll lay down and you can blow the hell out of me."

  Madison had spewed her glass of water over that one.

  Jorlan finally missed. Everyone, including Katie, stared at him in expectation. Just what constituted an Imperian come-on? As she watched him, she noticed his eyes were crinkled merrily at the sides. Oh, he was having fun, and she wanted to throw herself in his arms because of it.

  Another second passed, then another. He had them all on the edge, waiting.

  Finally, he said confidently, "Get thee to my bed, woman."

  All of Katie's brothers frowned. "That's not a pickup line," Denver said.

  "It's not even funny," Nick added.

  "But it works," Jorlan added with a smile. "Every time."

  Male chuckles abounded, some a deep tenor, others a husky baritone. Still, she could distinguish Jorlan's chuckles, like a deep, honey-rich caress.

  "I'm starved," Gray suddenly announced. He dropped the ball and let it roll onto the grass. "Someone get into the kitchen and make me a sandwich."

  Half a dozen male faces peered at her and Madison. "I am not fixing anyone anything," Katie retorted, popping to her feet.

  "Don't look at me," Madison ground out. "I'm ready to leave."

  "Katie," her father began, entreaty woven into the deep timbre of his voice. "You and Madison are the only women here. While we've been busy, you've been sitting. Fixing
us lunch is the least you can do."

  "We have this argument every time I come over." When her mother had been alive, hamburgers, hotdogs, casseroles and fresh fruit punch had abounded. Since Hannah's death, however, the only food to be served was what Katie prepared. "You're a big boy, and if you get hungry, you can cook."

  "Cooking is a woman's job, young lady."

  "Then I guess all the big bad men here will have to starve."

  Jorlan came to her, put his arm around her waist. His masculine scent filled her nostrils, raw and primal. "No woman of mine serves those who are ungrateful."

  Everyone stilled, awaiting an explosion from Ryan.

  "Ungrateful!" Ryan roared. "I'll have you know--"

  "Uh, why don't I order a pizza?" Erik clasped a hand on his dad's shoulder.

  Katie barely acknowledged her brother. She was too shocked by Jorlan's pronouncement. He wasn't demanding she obey; 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.

  He did not like her family making her feel so unimportant. He liked even less that he himself had often done the same. Did they not see she possessed the fire of a warrior? The courage? The boldness? She belonged at a man's side, not behind him. Not serving him.

  "Can I speak to you a moment?" Ryan locked his hands behind his back and braced his feet apart, looking every inch the detective. It was a war position. His mouth was firm, with grim lines at the corners.

  Jorlan nodded. Katie opened her mouth to protest, but he gave her a slight shake of his head. "I will speak with him."

  "His health isn't great, so try not to make him mad, okay?"

  "For you...anything," he said, and he realized surprisingly that he meant every word. He 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.

  In the next instant, Ryan rounded on him. "Just what are your intentions toward my daughter? The boys say you're leaving her soon." His eyes, identical to the light amber-brown of Katie's, were narrowed with fatherly concern.

  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 silence. Slowly, his expression softened, until finally, he settled down onto the couch with a plop, grinning widely. "You still set on leaving?"

  "Mayhap."

  Ryan nodded. "You're strong. Won't take any crap."

  What was the man getting at?

  "By damn, you're just what she needs. She runs roughshod over everyone else, but you, I think, will have a chance of corralling her. She's my only daughter, you know? My baby."

  "I know."

  "Looks just like her mother. A bit taller, though. She gets that from me," he said proudly.

  Jorlan didn't respond. Ryan was lost in his memories, and he hated to disturb him. But more than that, he wanted to learn about Katie as a little girl. He could very well imagine her with chubby pink cheeks and long pale hair in wild disarray as she raced along a pebbled path.

  "Katie's always been such a stubborn girl. Likes to keep me on my toes." The detective launched into a tale about the time Katie had stuffed her dress full of frogs and tried to sneak them inside her room. "Calls herself my sixth son."

  "Yet you treat her as a servant."

  Ryan lost his soft edge. "I never mistreat her."

  "You do. Every time you command her to serve you."

  A lengthy pause ensued. Then, Ryan expelled a deep breath. "Maybe you're right. But damn, son, women are gentle creatures and in need of protection. And men, well, we're in need of coddling."

  Jorlan finally decided to answer the detective's initial question. "My intentions toward your daughter are honorable." He slid his tongue over his teeth, not liking his next confession. "I want to make her my life-mate, yet first I must convince her to accept."

  "Life-mate? Has Katie heard you say that?" He chuckled. He pushed to his feet and slapped Jorlan on the shoulder. "Good luck, son. You're going to need it." He was still chuckling as he strolled outside.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  HEATHER WENT TO BED early that night, as she had the last two nights, hoping for another appearance from her dream man. She didn't have to wait long. Just as he had the other times, Percen materialized beside her as quickly as if she'd flipped on a light switch--as if he couldn't wait to see her.

  But this night, as she gazed at him, she couldn't deny that she was awake. She wasn't dreaming, yet there was he. She'd suspected that he was more than a figment of her imagination, but now she knew for sure.

  He was real.

  The realization didn't frighten her, however. He made her feel too good to fear him. She couldn't explain his presence, but that didn't matter. All that mattered was that he was lying beside her, enveloping her with his warmth. Whoever he was, whatever he was--a ghost or vampire or a dream come to life--she wanted him with her just the same.

  He'd told her she belonged to him, and Heather wanted those words to be true. She wanted to be his. Totally and completely. Yet he hadn't made love to her yet, hadn't touched her in a sexual way. She yearned for his body inside of hers, making them one being.

  Silently, she studied this man she had known only a short time, but had somehow managed to become so important to her. As she took in each of his features, a frown tugged at her lips. Tonight Percen looked as if he were wearing some sort of mask. His usually flawless skin, almond-shaped eyes and straight, even nose appeared...too perfect. He was beautiful still, in a dark sort of way, his skin wonderfully tanned, his muscles hard as stone, but something wasn't right.

  Maybe he had always looked this way, and she was only just noticing. Or maybe he truly was different. She saw a vulnerability about him now, a deeply ingrained vulnerability that seeped from every part of him. He reminded her of herself, wounded and weary, and that knowledge wrapped around her like a long bolt of silk. Did he possess the same bone-deep hurts that she possessed?

  "You're back," she whispered into the darkness.

  "Aye. I am back. I cannot stay away."

  "I've thought about you all day," she admitted. "Every moment I worked, every moment I breathed all I could think about was you."

  He paused, as if he was scared to utter his next words. "What were your thoughts?" Each syllable emerged stilted and hesitant.

  "I thought of the way you hold me, the way you make me feel so warm."

  He didn't respond. She began to curse herself for her hasty confession. What if he liked the challenge of winning a woman? What if her easy surrender drove him away?

  Then he spoke. "I like that you think of me, angel, I truly do, but I am not the man you think I am." The admission came reluctantly, and she noticed that every muscle in his body was tense, as if preparing to bolt. "You would not consider me so sweetly if you saw my true appearance."

  Her chin cocked to the side. "I don't understand."

  "What you perceive me to be is only a mirage. A mask of the man I can never be." His tone was dark and gritty, accusatory. "I cast a spell that causes you to see only what I want you to see."

  "You're a witch?" she asked. "A warlock?"

  "I know not those words."

  "Someone who uses magic."

  "Aye, I am a sorcerer, the Druinn High Priest, and I do wield magic."

  As a teenager, she had dabbled in the supernatural to escape the terror of her life. She knew outside forces existed all around her, and didn't doubt his claim of magic. How else could he appear and disappear at whim? "Whatever you are and whatever you can do, I see a man who is good and decent. You have to be. How else could I feel so safe with you?"

  He didn't comment on her words. Instead, he softly caressed a hand over her cheek. Though his hand looked smooth and unblemished, it felt rough with calluses and scars. Str
ange. Yet the sensation caused a soft tingling to work its way from the back of her neck all the way to her toes.

  "Percen?"

  "Aye."

  "Is the spell responsible for the warmth I feel every time you are near? For my...desire?"

  Again, he hesitated. "Nay," he said truthfully, his eyes slowly widening with surprise. "Nay. 'Tis not."

  "Then it is you who makes me feel so alive. You." She realized then that she wanted him to stay with her, not just during the night, but during the days, as well. Every day. Every night. How could she give up this warmth, now that she knew it existed?

  "I--I do not know what to say."

  "Say you'll stay with me." She cupped his cheeks in her hands. "Say you will stay with me always."

  "Heather, I am...I cannot...You will not understand," he ended, suddenly angry.

  She fought a wave of panic because she felt him mentally and emotionally withdrawing from her. She needed him in her life; somehow, in only these three nights, he had become the center of her existence. She wanted them to have a normal life together. The storybook life she'd always desired, but always found just out of her reach.

  "At least give me a chance to understand. Please," she added desperately when he didn't acknowledge her words in any way. "Please."

  A knock sounded at the door.

  "Heather?" her mother called.

  Before she could utter a protest, or even clamp an arm over his abdomen to hold him in place, Percen disappeared. Fighting a wave of desolation, Heather stared down at the bed sheets, at the indentation and wrinkles where he had lain. Her stomach lurched, and she wanted to weep as cold chills raked her from head to toe.

  He was gone.

  Shaking, she caressed the lingering warmth his body had left.

  Another knock, this one louder and more intense, jolted her into awareness. "Are you okay?" her mother asked.

  "I'm tired," she said listlessly. "Just leave me alone."

  A pause. Muffled footsteps as her mother walked away.

  Tears pooled in Heather's eyes and for a moment, she couldn't see, could only make out the blurred silhouette of her room. Would Percen return to her? She didn't think so. He was angry with her for a reason she didn't understand. She had pushed him too far, perhaps. Or asked too much of him.

  A quiet sob tore from her throat. It was a sound only a wounded animal would make, deep and gut-wrenching.

  "Why do you cry?"