The Stone Prince

by Gena Showalter

She gasped as the cold liquid coated her skin. "Do not do that again," she growled. But even as she said the words, she was reaching out and smearing him with another coat.

  He grabbed her in the next instant, looking like the playful, teasing lover she'd come to know. "Think you can paint me?"

  She chuckled. "Yes, actually, I do."

  "Then let us see who wields the mightier brush." In a heartbeat of time, he had her pinned to the ground. Slowly, very slowly, he painted her hair, her collarbone, her legs.

  Toward the end, she was laughing so hard she couldn't rebuke him. Finally, he tossed his brush aside. He stared down at her with a serious glint in his pale-blue eyes, watching her for a long, silent moment. Then, he kissed her, a languid kiss that went on and on and made her wet with arousal. Instead of making love to her, however, he pulled away and, without a word, swiped up his brush and went back to painting the wall.

  Turn away from her, would he? She dumped the remaining paint over his head.

  He stood stunned for a long while, yellow rivulets dripping from his head and face. His eyes narrowed. "You will pay for that, katya."

  "You have to catch me first," she taunted, darting away.

  "Oh, I will catch you. Doubt it not."

  Smothering her laughter with her hand--it wouldn't do to give away her location so easily--she slipped into the next room. But she had only taken three steps when the wood cracked beneath her feet. Without warning, she tumbled down, down, down. Something sharp sliced at her body. Katie screamed, anticipating impact.

  When she hit, she hit hard, like brick against brick. She tasted the metallic tang of blood in her mouth, grasped for a breath, but couldn't drag in the smallest bit of air.

  Jorlan shouted her name, the sound anguished and desperate.

  Darkness claimed her.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  JORLAN RUSHED DOWN the steps, taking three at a time as the horrifying scene replayed over and over in his mind. Only seconds ago he had watched Katie tumble from his sight. Then he had gazed through a hole in the upstairs floor and seen her body lying so still, so broken, trickles of blood flowing from her mouth and body.

  Time ceased to exist, and yet an eternity passed before he reached her. He skidded to a halt, bent down, and gently folded her in his arms. She didn't make a sound, didn't move. Didn't flutter her eyes. "Katie? Please open your eyes."

  Still, no response.

  Pieces of wood protruded from her body, causing her blood to mingle with the paint she wore. Jorlan knew this was no accident, knew that the wood had not splintered from natural causes. Magic coated the air. He had attempted to paint Katie's wall with his powers, only to cause the thick, gooey liquid to explode. Could he have also weakened the house's flooring?

  By Elliea, his woman was hurt, in danger of dying, and every protective, primitive instinct he possessed surfaced, fueled by fear and anger and impotence. He went cold all over. He needed her too desperately to lose her now. Saving her wasn't an obligation, wasn't a duty or an effort to save his freedom; it was necessary for his sanity.

  If he used his magic to help her, would he cause her more harm?

  There was a chance he could help her, and because of that chance, he had to try. If he did nothing, she would surely die.

  Closing his eyes, he harnessed every ounce of power he possessed. He'd never attempted anything like this, shouldn't be attempting it now, yet he could not sit idle, helpless.

  "Help me, Druinn," he muttered. "Help me. Please."

  A door slammed shut. Footsteps.

  A woman gasped. "What happened?" Frances. He knew 'twas her.

  He did not expend any energy speaking to her or even facing her. He simply kept his eyes closed and concentrated on Katie, on his magic. Soon his hands began to burn, and he felt another power, someone else's power, mingle with his own. Whose? He didn't know. Didn't care. Consumed by his desperation, he ran each of his palms down Katie's body, from the top of her head to the bottom of her feet.

  Mayhap 'twas his desperation. Mayhap 'twas his love for Katie. Or mayhap 'twas whoever helped him. Whatever the reason, he knew beyond a certainty that he was at last wielding his mystical abilities to their full potential.

  Very distantly, as if she stood in a tunnel, he heard Frances demand, "What are you doing?"

  Still, he ignored her.

  "Your hands are glowing." Her tone was shrill. "Now Katie is glowing."

  With that, he heard a loud thump, like that of a body hitting the floor. A sound he now knew all too well.

  His power was waning, his strength weakening. He collapsed at the waist and remained hunched over, barely able to breathe. Had he saved her? He had used his magic like a true sorcerer, but had it been enough? With much effort, he opened his eyes. The first thing he noticed was that Katie lay completely still, oblivious to the world around her. Next he saw that Frances had indeed fainted. Her body was sprawled on the floor.

  One heartbeat passed. Then another. Katie moaned. Her eyelids fluttered open. "Jorlan?" she asked weakly.

  She was alive. She was well. So glad was he to hear her voice he used what little energy he had left to answer. "Aye, katya."

  "You look terrible. All splotchy."

  He gave a weak chuckle. He'd almost lost her. Lost her! That she was whole and awake did little to improve his horror and fear, emotions that had nothing to do with his curse. Had he the strength, he would have howled. He wasn't sure when the curse had ceased to matter, when Katie had become all-important to him; he only knew that his life, his very freedom, meant nothing without her. A wave of dizziness assaulted him and he closed his eyes.

  "Are you okay?" she asked. "Do you need a doctor?"

  "I am fine." But he wasn't. His body felt weak and irreparable, as if he would never again regain his strength.

  Gingerly she sat up. "Ouch. That hurts a little."

  "What?" he asked, immediately distressed.

  "If you must know, my butt."

  The only area he had not touched, he thought wryly. "I will massage away the soreness when I have regained my energy."

  "What happened to you?" Concern dripped from her voice, and she glanced to her right. "What happened to Frances?"

  "Fainted."

  "And you?"

  He managed a shrug.

  As if sensing their scrutiny, Frances moaned and shifted, slowly coming to consciousness. "Wh-what happened?" In the next instant, remembrance flooded her features. She jerked upright, starring with morbid fascination at Jorlan, and then Katie, and then Jorlan again. "He, he--" Her gaze continued to flicker between them both as she pushed with her heels and scooted backward, widening the distance between them. She looked so frightened, so shocked, and she began babbling about lights.

  Jorlan had lost the ability to speak. He couldn't reassure or comfort her. She would not have believed him anyway.

  "Frances?" Katie said, her own confusion evident. "What's going on?" Slowly, grimacing all the while, she eased to her feet. Bloodstained wood chips were scattered about her. Frowning, she took a step toward the waitress. With a shriek, Frances bolted out the door. Seconds later the sound of crunching gravel erupted as a car sped away.

  Kate threw Jorlan a glance over her shoulder. "Jorlan, this is beginning to scare me. Tell me what's going on."

  He managed another shrug. Darkness was threatening to overtake him. He needed to stay awake, however, to assure Katie's full recovery. He could not allow her to sink into a decline. But he could not fight the lethargy, either. He was too weak and only growing weaker...weaker.

  Darkness finally conquered him.

  BREATHING DEEPLY of the stale, unscented air, Percen hobbled across Heather's bedchamber carpet, his body so tense his left leg dragged painfully behind him. Here, with Heather, was the only place he'd ever found a shred of inner peace. He needed that peace now, yet it remained hopelessly out of his grasp.

  "What's going on?" Heather asked. A thin, ragged blanket was draped around her shoulder
s. She sat at the edge of her bed.

  He longed to sink to his knees, burrow his head into the hollow of her stomach and tell her all of his troubles. She'd listen. She'd understand, but then she would talk again of forgetting the past, of forgiving. So he remained standing, unwilling to lose himself in her just yet.

  "Percen," she said, opening her arms to him.

  Her allure proved too heady. He went to her and dropped to his knees. He cupped her face in his hands. "When this is over, angel, tell me you want to begin a new life with me."

  "I do." Her sensual lips curled in a bright smile. "I really, really do."

  Those words sparked something to life inside of him, something he couldn't yet name. "I need only a few more days, then I give you my blood oath we will be together."

  The sparkle in her eyes dimmed. "Why can't you just forget about Jorlan? Please, Percen. Forget about him and think of me. Of us."

  "Don't you see?" With everything inside him, he beseeched her to understand. "If I leave him now, I will never be able to give myself wholly to you. Part of me will always belong to Jorlan."

  "But what if you fail?" she whispered, her expression a mixture of pain and longing.

  His teeth clenched so tightly he feared his jaw would snap. "I will not fail again. Katie might have escaped, but she will not next time."

  Heather drew in a sharp breath. Her fingers clutched the fabric of her blanket until her knuckles looked pale and brittle. "You tried to kill Katie? Why? You said nothing about hurting her."

  "Both she and Jorlan must suffer. 'Tis the only way."

  "No, that's not true."

  Watching her, Percen stopped mid-step. "Why these hysterics? You hate her as much as I do."

  "I never wanted to see her harmed. She's been good to me and my mom."

  "Good or no, she is Jorlan's lover and that makes her my enemy. Yours, as well."

  Slight tremors shimmed down Heather's small frame. From cold? Or disappointment? Was he losing her already?

  "You were right when you said I don't know who you are," she told him softly. "I don't. I don't know how you can make me feel so warm inside, yet speak so cruelly of murder." She gazed at him through wet lashes. "How are you so cruel?"

  "How am I so cruel?" Scowling, he clenched his fists. "I am so cruel because there is nothing inside me except hate. Nothing."

  "That's a lie, Percen." She looked past him, past the window. "You have given me back my dreams. Leave with me now, and I will do everything in my power to give you back yours."

  Percen wanted so desperately to believe her, to believe that they could live happily ever after and forget the past. Yet how could he ever truly pry the sharp talonlike fingers of the past from his heart if he did not first destroy the hand that bound him?

  In the next instant, Heather's mother shoved open the door and flew inside. "Heather," she panted, "you won't believe--" Her gaze fastened on Percen, who promptly disappeared, and she dropped in a dead faint to the floor.

  Heather leapt down and gathered her mother into her arms. She cooed soft words of concern, Percen all but forgotten.

  He materialized just in front of them. "I will not kill Katie, if you do not wish me to."

  Heather's head jerked up. She watched him, silently. Hopefully.

  "But I must use her if I am to destroy Jorlan."

  "Percen!"

  With a wave of his hand, he disappeared once more. Long did the memory of her stricken expression, like a woman betrayed, linger in his mind.

  JORLAN SLEPT FOR TWO DAYS. In fact, since he'd fainted, he had not stirred. He hadn't even moaned, hadn't uttered a sound. Such stillness frightened Katie all the way to her bones.

  Even now she regarded his sleeping form. She'd managed to work streams of water down his throat. Had cleaned him and somehow managed to change his clothes, but she hadn't been able to move him. He was still lying on the hardwood floor of the Victorian. Damn it! She needed some sort of affirmation that he was alive and well. So many times, she'd almost picked up the phone and dialed 911. But what would the paramedics say to her? Your alien is ailing? No telling how Jorlan was fashioned inside. His heart might very well rest in his ass. Who knew?

  Maybe she should call her brother, Brian. He'd fly in and examine Jorlan; he'd also demand answers she couldn't give him. Katie rubbed her temples. One more day. She'd give Jorlan one more day before calling in reinforcements.

  As it did every time she was around him, her gaze sought Jorlan. Now more than ever he looked every inch a hard, wary man. His body was laced with scars, evidence of the difficult life he'd led. Yet, at times, he was so tender and gentle with her. She toyed with a lock of his hair, running the midnight strands between her fingers.

  The clamor of her heart echoed in the quiet of the room.

  She wasn't exactly sure what had happened. She recalled falling through the wood, then waking up with Jorlan cradling her head in his lap, his eyes darkened with fear.

  Katie knew she'd fallen. The gaping hole in the living-room ceiling was proof enough of that. But she must have sustained more damage...the bloody wood! Lord, she'd been stabbed by sharp pieces of wood; they'd pierced her flesh, sharp and biting. A fall like that, combined with the bladelike timber, should have crippled her--if not killed her outright. Yet she possessed not a single bruise or cut. Her rear end was still a bit sore, but that was the extent of the damage.

  Jorlan had used his magic to heal her.

  That was why Frances had run away as if the IRS was after her.

  Everything made sense. Everything except Jorlan's continued slumber.

  Another hour passed, yet his condition remained the same. Katie glided her fingertips over his cheekbones, along his jaw. A soft, almost undetectable moan slipped past his lips.

  Hope burst inside of her.

  Determined to wake him by any means necessary, she strode to the kitchen, snatched a cup and filled it with water at the sink. Seconds later, she stood over him, about to toss the entire contents in his face.

  He woke up on his own.

  "Katie," he said, slowly smiling as if he hadn't scared ten years off her life.

  "Oh my God." Her knees went weak. She almost collapsed. "Welcome back, Jorlan. Welcome back." She stood just where she was, simply watching him, drinking in the sight of his masculine beauty. With each second that passed, he looked stronger, healthier. All the color was quickly returning to his cheeks.

  They simply watched each other.

  Finally, she said, "Don't ever do that again. You nearly scared me to death," nearly choking with the force of her relief.

  "Then I must make amends." Never taking his eyes from her, he stretched out his arms. "Come to me."

  She didn't even hesitate. He was alive, and that was all that mattered. Dropping her cup, she threw herself into his embrace. "Don't ever, ever go to sleep again." Unnoticed, water pooled around them.

  "I will not, if you will not ever fall again."

  "Deal." Then, "God, I need you." She breathed the words into his neck. "Do you have the strength?" She needed to reaffirm that they both lived, that they were together.

  "Aye. Tell me what you need. Tell me and it is yours."

  She captured his face in her hands. "I want you inside me, a part of me all day. I want to fall asleep with you deep within me and wake up with the taste of you in my mouth."

  "Then take me," he rasped.

  Katie did just that. She removed her clothing, then his, until they were both gloriously naked. Inch by inch she moved down the length of him, stopping at the object of her fascination. "Jorlan?"

  "Hmm?" His breath emerged unsteadily.

  "I meant what I said. I plan to taste you."

  He gave a little chuckle. "I will stop you not, katya."

  She took him in her mouth, took the bulbous head all the way to the back of her throat. Up and down, she stroked the length of him, savoring the thickness, the heat. He tasted of male and warmth, and Katie couldn't get enough. She didn'
t know the way of it at first, but she soon caught on.

  "Katie," he called hoarsely. "Katie."

  When he could take no more of her sweet torment, he grabbed her by the shoulders and wrenched her up. He kissed her then, and oh, sweet God above, then he entered her in one long, swift thrust.

  Breathless, Katie closed her eyes. Because she was on top, she controlled the depth of his penetration and she arched her back, sending him deeper inside. Softness met hardness in one glorious burst of sensation. At first, she rode him slowly, deliciously, and not quite taking the full length of him.

  "Take me deeper," he commanded. Sweat beaded his brow.

  "No, I want--" Oh, right there, she thought, finding a place that made her shake with an intense torrent of pleasure. She wanted to prolong this moment, make it last forever. So she continued to take only part of him, riding the waves of sensation.

  Jorlan took her by the hips, urging her on. "Faster. Please, katya. Please. Deeper." He made a low sound in the back of his throat. She'd never heard a sound so full of need and promise and desperation, and she realized she wanted to fill her ears with that sound all night long. "Aye, just like that. By Elliea, you are mine. My woman."

  She bent down and sucked his nipples. She soon heard that moan again.

  "Say it," he commanded. "Say the words."

  Through heavy-lidded eyes, she watched him; her body continued to arch against his. The only sounds she made were gasps of pleasure. In the next instant, he rolled her over, pinning her against the cold hardness of the wood. She gave a light intake of breath, an exclamation of wonder really, that somehow they managed to stay connected. But now, he was no longer moving. He remained still, gazing down at her, his expression hard and unflinching.

  "What are you doing?" She tried to move, to finish what they had begun, but he kept her immobile.

  "I want to hear you say the words that bind you to me. You are mine. No exceptions. Say it."

  No exceptions? If she were one hundred percent sure of his feelings for her, she'd tell him anything and everything he wanted to hear. But trust didn't come easy for her. She was a creature who demanded proof in all things. So far, he'd only managed to prove he needed her, not that he loved her. "I can't say what you want to hear."

  "You can."

  "No!"

  "You will say the words, Katie, and thus you will cease acting as if you will not be my life-mate. Think you I would let another have you? We belong together. I almost lost you, and I never wish to experience such a fright again."