Prince of Stone (Imperia)

by Gena Showalter

  His raspy tone had more sex appeal than the Kama Sutra, and she almost shouted, Screw it! Let’s get naked. Should she, though?

  She’d never before dealt with such a sex-minded, eager man, or such blatant, in-your-face masculinity. What’s more, she just didn’t possess the soft, angelic beauty that usually inspired this type of ardor.

  Maybe that was why he affected her so strongly? He was the first man ever to look at her as if she were a succulent morsel to be devoured in one tasty bite.

  And what if she never stumbled upon this kind of consuming chemistry again? If she didn’t grab on to Jorlan while she had the chance—

  Whoa! Hold up. What the heck was she thinking? She needed to douse the budding fire within them both before the flames spread and became unstoppable.

  “You’re right,” she finally replied. “Thank goodness I have two hands and a blanket.”

  His jaw went slack, and she blew him a kiss.

  After she gave him the tour, she made him a peanut butter sandwich and escorted him back to the living room and motioned to the couch. “So, what did you think?”

  “Your home is…quaint.”

  Ouch. “What’s your home like?”

  “I believe you would call it a castle or palace.”

  So he led the royal army? “Whatever. Time for Spending the Night with Katie Orientation. Have a seat.”

  “Is that a command?” he asked pointedly.

  Their deal would bring about her demise, wouldn’t it? “Would you please sit down?”

  “Of course.” He sat, grinning all the while. Why hadn’t he taken a bite of his sandwich?

  “Now,” she began. “You will have your own bedroom, and you are not to enter mine. Just so we’re clear, mine is the only one I didn’t show you and dang it, I thought you were starving. Why aren’t you eating?”

  He studied the PB and J. Smelled it. Wrinkled his nose. “What is it?”

  In lieu of an explanation, she asked, “What do you usually eat?”

  “Not this…dark paste smeared and smashed between two white sponges.”

  “You might love it.”

  He took a tentative bite, chewed, and his eyes lit up. “I do!” In seconds, he devoured every crumb.

  Score one for Katie’s nonculinary talents! “Back to our bedroom arrangements.” She had to make sure he understood.

  “Why do you think to keep me out of yours?”

  She wouldn’t disrespect him with a lie but she wouldn’t be admitting the truth, either. Nights were tough for Katie. Alone in the darkness, she desperately desired a warm body, soft skin and strong arms wrapped around her, holding her close.

  Know your weakness, and mount a defense. “Did you ever consider the fact that I could have a boyfriend?” A question wasn’t a lie. “Someone I’m in love with and committed to?”

  His pupils enlarged and crackled with fury—for a moment. In a snap, he masked his features with indifference. A skill she wished she possessed. “If you have a man,” he grated, “you should not have touched me as you did. You should not have kissed me.”

  “At the time, you were stone, not a man.” Guilt settled over her, and she averted her gaze. The cell phone in her pocket vibrated, signaling a text had come in.

  “Do you have a man, Katie?” His pleasant tone suggested he’d asked something as innocent as, This jelly doughnut is delicious, would you like a bite?

  A lock of hair escaped confinement, and she smoothed the strands behind her ear, her motions jerky. Finally, she told him, “No, Jorlan. I do not have a man. Not currently,” she rushed to add. “One day, I will have a boyfriend, and I choose to be faithful to him now.”

  Perfectly reasonable, right? But okay, yeah, her tone suggested she’d said something incendiary, like, You ate my doughnut, you dirty bastard.

  “You wish to remain faithful to a male you’ve never met, even though you desire me, and I desire you. Even though I can give you the greatest pleasure you’ve ever known, and you can give me your love.”

  Gross! “Are you one of those losers who tells a woman he loves her simply to get in her pants?”

  He closed his eyes for a moment, as if praying for patience. “I did not mean I would be falling in love with you, katya.” He offered the rejection gently, tension thrumming from him. “My honor is all I have, and I would never dishonor myself by lying about my emotions. I refuse to fall for anyone. But. Women are—”

  “If you tell me women are the weaker sex one more time, I will rip off your penis and stuff it down your mouth. Also, when you add the word but, you negate everything you said previously. You need to get hip to the times, old man. And now I’m done with this conversation.”

  He cupped both of his knees, the color draining from his knuckles. “I am not old.”

  Had she hit a nerve? “You’re right. Ancient is a better descriptor for you.” Katie withdrew her cell and jabbed the touch screen until a computerized voice began to read the text.

  “Hey, sis, it’s Gray. I’m going out of town for a few days and need to borrow your iPad to—”

  The message jammed to a halt when Jorlan leaped across the room, grabbed and dropped the phone, then stomped it into a thousand tiny pieces.

  She watched, baffled. What the heck? “Jo-or-lann,” she said, drawing out the syllables. “Why did you do that?” Having spent most of her extra cash on Jorlan’s house, she’d have to go back to using her old phone, with its janky battery. Basically, the battery experienced the technological equivalent of premature ejaculation, draining way too fast.

  “I sensed no magic from the device and yet it spoke.” He stared down at the shattered cell as if expecting the pieces to somehow reattach themselves and attack. “Must be mighty indeed to hide such power.”

  “A voice recording isn’t magical.” She massaged the back of her neck. “From now on, if you don’t understand something, ask me about it.”

  Now he gave her a “you silly little girl” frown. “Taking time to ask questions will only give my enemies an opportunity to attack me.”

  “My cell phone is not your enemy!”

  “Not anymore,” he answered, smug.

  “Dam—dang it, Jorlan. You can’t just destroy my things.” Remembering she owed a quarter for an earlier curse, she stalked to the bookshelf beside the fireplace, dug a coin out of a bowl, and tossed it in one of the designated jars.

  Yeah, she needed more than one jar.

  At his questioning eyebrow lift, she explained her quest to speak more ladylike.

  He chuckled, the sound low, husky and wonderfully carnal. “Do you have a kissing jar? I’m interested in making a deposit.”

  Don’t you dare think about his last kiss. “Anything I did in the garden doesn’t count. I was in the middle of a crisis.” Kind of.

  “Crisis or not, I recall your words to me, just before you wrapped your palm around my—”

  “That’s enough.” Before he could add anything else, she said, “Look how late it’s gotten.” Katie pretended to study an invisible wristwatch. “Are you ready for bed?”

  “I have been ready for weeks.” His gaze raked over her with enough heat to incinerate her. “Since the first moment I saw you.”

  Her cheeks overheated, and not due to embarrassment. That was, hands down, the sexiest thing anyone had ever said to her.

  Red alert! Red alert! In danger of melting. Back away from the situation, and the man.

  Maybe he experienced the same internal warning. He said, “Yes, let us part. Before I…sleep, I would like to bathe.”

  He hesitated over the word sleep long enough to make her anticipate “make love to you.”

  Katie gulped and led Jorlan to the bathroom, where she showed him how to work the knobs. “Place a small dollop of shampoo into your hands and work it through your hair. There will be suds. If you get any in your eyes…” Her voice tapered off as Jorlan gripped the hem of his T-shirt, pulled the material over his head, and let the garment whoosh to the
floor. “So hot.”

  Realizing she’d called him hot, she rushed to add, “I mean your eyes will burn so hot!”

  She’d seen his chest before. Mmm, mmm, mmm, had she seen it. Yet, those previous glimpses hardly mattered. Each time she saw his sun-kissed skin, she had the same reaction. Fiery heat that erupted into flames and torched her inhibitions to ash.

  “I would willingly place these suds in my eyes,” he said, his voice as tantalizing as warm honey, “if I knew you would kiss away the pain.”

  “And I will forcefully put suds in your eyes if you keep flirting.”

  Another chuckle, this one an internal caress. “I might allow you to put suds in my eyes, if you pressed your body against mine while you did it.”

  She ignored the delicious flutters in her stomach, as well as his teasing comment. “When you’re finished, turn the knobs to shut off the water. Also, do not leave this bathroom without re-dressing.” With all the basics covered, she raced to the door before he removed his sweats.

  Behind her, he said, “You cannot leave, witch.” All stealth and training, he moved in front of her, halting her just before escape.

  She stopped. Her back went ramrod straight and her shoulders squared. “Excuse me?”

  “In Imperia, it is customary for two people to kiss before they part.” His long, spiky lashes swept down in a slow, alluring appraisal of her curves, and she lost her train of thought. “Anything less is rude.”

  “Then it’s a good thing we aren’t in Imperia.”

  Frustration pulsed from him, and she almost—almost!—laughed. The poor guy had no idea how to deal with a non-Imperian female—Imperial? Imperialish?—who did not seek his approval in any way, shape or form.

  “Perhaps you would like the privilege of washing my back, then?” he asked.

  Privilege? “Let’s save that particular privilege for my birthday. A girl’s gotta have something to look forward to, amiright?” Katie pushed past him and shut the door firmly behind her.

  Alone in the hall, she locked her knees to prevent a fall. That man and his sex appeal…lethal to her peace of mind. And body.

  The girl who’d (once) put no stake in physical appearance now hungered for a handsome face and muscular physique. And yeah, okay, she liked his personality, too, when he wasn’t issuing orders or mansplaining about womanly weaknesses, of course.

  He was smart, no doubt about it, but also adorably clueless about modern society. He was curious about the world around him, everything new and exciting. And he was strong. Brave. After all, the man had faced a cell phone without flinching.

  Katie pressed a hand against her mouth to silence a giggle. Deciding to stay put, just in case he needed her, she leaned against the wall and tried not to imagine all that glorious golden skin covered with glistening soap bubbles. She failed.

  By the time he emerged half an hour later, enveloped by a vanilla-scented cloud of steam, she trembled with arousal.

  He rubbed a towel through his wet hair. He’d donned the sweatpants, but not the shirt, his eight-pack on spectacular display. He is one hundred percent pure Imperian beef. Droplets of water trickled down his rippled chest, pooling in his navel. The moisture in her mouth dried. I want to lick him up.

  When had she become such a sexual creature?

  As soon as he spotted her, he smiled. “Couldn’t stay away?”

  “Didn’t want you to drown.”

  The smile ebbed. “I would like more peanut butter. Please,” he added as an afterthought.

  Make a man a sandwich, and you satisfied his hunger. Teach a man to make his own sandwich, and you saved him from a beating for getting on your nerves.

  “Come on.”

  On the way to the kitchen, Katie cooled her desires, doing subtle deep-breathing exercises. She gathered the necessary items, then put the sandwich together, explaining every step. From twisting off a lid to cross contamination by using the same utensil for both the peanut butter and the jelly.

  “Are all Earth meals prepared this way?” he asked.

  “Let me guess. You have an entire kitchen staff, and they work hours every day?”

  “Aye. Exactly.”

  Maybe I should move in with him. “This is what I consider an on-the-go meal. Easy and fast to prepare, filling, and somewhat nutritious.”

  She hadn’t cooked an actual meal since she’d left home at the age of eighteen. A small rebellion, she supposed, for all the years she had slaved over breakfast, lunch and dinner for the men of the house.

  After passing the finished sandwich to him, she poured a glass of milk for him and said, “Now you make a sandwich.”

  First, he ate the one she’d prepared, somehow turning the simple act of chewing into an aphrodisiac. His strong jaw moved quickly. Potent and intense.

  When would she find something unappealing about him? Seriously, she preferred First Date Syndrome to Obsession Disease.

  Jorlan fixed three more sandwiches.

  “Tell me more about your world,” she said as they sat at the counter.

  He spoke in between bites, his eyes aglow. “For our homes, colorful stones are used, and most chambers are without doors.”

  “Even bedrooms?”

  “Even bedrooms,” he confirmed.

  “But why? Anyone can walk in at any time, even if the occupants are midsexual marathon.”

  “Doors are considered a sign of mistrust. For intimate moments, occupants use magic to block any and all entrances.”

  “Well, consider me mistrustful, because I’m keeping my doors.”

  “I suddenly see their appeal.” He finished off the food and drained the milk, then leaned back in his chair with a satisfied grunt. “Thank you, Katie. For everything.”

  “My pleasure. Jorlan.” Mmm. Pleasure. Give me—nothing. “All right. Let’s get you tucked into bed. Alone.”

  “Your continued rejection humbles me.” The wry comment was delivered with an equally wry grin.

  “You know what? I’m strangely okay with that,” she told him after blowing him a kiss.

  In the hall, sweet vanilla still scented the air, blending with his innate sandalwood fragrance. Her head fogged. Goose bumps spread over her arms.

  “I must admit,” he said, “I did not expect your home to be furnished in such a way. These things do not suit you.”

  In that, she agreed. Decorated with a contemporary slant, the interior was too bold for her tastes. Too modern, the walls trimmed with metal. Instead of wood paneling or carpet, mosaic tile covered the floors. Every light fixture boasted some sort of chrome finish. Plus, the furnishings lacked character.

  Katie preferred shabby chic antiques and urban farmhouse.

  When she’d first bought the house, she’d intended to fix it up and sell it. Her very first project! Then her dad had come over.

  Back then, he hadn’t known her career goals. He’d thought she planned to live here, and had barked orders like a drill sergeant, expecting total compliance.

  You will not live here on your own. You are too young, and the neighborhood is not safe. You will sell this place, and you will come home. Understand?

  Everyone who knew Ryan James referred to him as old-school. He firmly believed a man should work to provide for his family, and a woman should bake, raise their kids and devote her entire life to pleasing her husband. Very much Jorlan en Sarr’s way of life, too, no doubt.

  She’d reacted to her father’s demand the same way she’d reacted to Jorlan’s. With attitude. Just to be contrary, she’d moved into the house, and nixed any plans to sell.

  Yeah, she was someone who would walk into a sword…as long as she could impale her nemesis, too.

  The blowup had taken place about three years ago, and her father hadn’t spoken to her since. And that was fine. Whatever. So her chest clenched with regret. So what. So she sometimes cried for hours about what could have—should have—been. Again, so what?

  If her dad didn’t want a relationship with her, he wouldn�
��t get one. At least she had her brothers.

  All throughout her childhood, they’d protected her from their father’s skewed viewpoint. They’d made her one of the boys, encouraging her to shed her lacy dresses and don jeans. She’d trailed their every step, helping them catch frogs, fishing in a nearby pond, climbing trees and wrestling in the mud. Experiences she wouldn’t trade for anything, even a father’s approval.

  Be yourself or be miserable. Words her mother had spoken just a few days before she’d died of blood cancer. A horrendous death young Katie had been ill prepared for.

  Now, her chest tightened with more force. I miss you, Mom. So much.

  They reached the guest bedroom, and Katie had to blink back a well of tears. Pasting on a (brittle) smile, she flipped on the light switch and said, “Welcome to your room, sir. Here at Hotel James the service is terrible but the laughs are plentiful.” The room brightened in an instant, light chasing away shadows. “I’m sure you recall the bathroom, or chamber pot, or whatever word your people use, is through the side door. It’s nothing as grand as what you described, but it’s comfortable and private and you won’t need magic to keep me out. You won’t even need the doors. Your chauvinism is the best block on the market.”

  “I’m sure I would offer an appropriate reaction if I understood half of what you said.” Entranced by the origin of light, Jorlan lowered the switch. Darkness flooded the small area. With a flick of his wrist, light sprang from the overhead source once again.

  “Still I sense no magic, and yet…” Up. Down. Up-down. Updown. “I would not have guessed your world capable of such things. First a flat talking box and now instant lighting.”

  Katie chuckled, charmed by his bedazzlement. “What do your people use for light?”

  “Lamori gems.”

  Lah-more-ee. “Are the gems magic?”

  “In a way. They are alive.”

  Living stones. Wow! “Are they alive like people or more like, say, trees?”

  “Trees. A living organism able to absorb light and reflect it back. When they are well loved, they cast light for eons. When they are treated poorly, they cease glowing altogether and eventually die.”