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Gena Showalter Bundle

The Stone Prince

The Pleasure Slave

Heart of the Dragon

MILLS & BOON

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Contents

The Stone Prince

The Pleasure Slave

Heart of the Dragon

About the Author

The Stone Prince

By Gena Showalter

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

EPILOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

KATIE JAMES COASTED HER fingertips across the muscled chest before her. Warmth tingled through her arm, a drugging warmth more intoxicating than expensive champagne and moonlight kisses. Her lips parted on a wispy catch of breath as images of silk sheets, entwined bodies and slow, delicious caresses filled her mind.

How could this man affect her so powerfully, almost magically? How could he affect her at all when he’d never spoken a word to her? His face was beauty personified, yes, but that wasn’t enough to entrance her like this, to leave her weak and shaky every time she glanced at him.

There had to be something more to him, something elemental. Something beyond physical beauty that lured her every feminine desire. At the moment, though, she could not think past his physique, and slowly, so slowly her gaze moved over him. He was granite-hard, his abdomen ridged with sinew, his shoulders wide and firm. All of this gave his tall, sculpted frame a dangerous aura—dangerous and utterly sensual. He belonged in the woods with raw, naked branches surrounding him. Yet he stood outside among a brilliant crimson and yellow drapery of azaleas, somehow the absolute essence of masculinity.

“Mmm,” she sighed, her eyelids fluttering closed. Her hand dropped to her side. “If only you were real….”

But he wasn’t. He was formed entirely of smooth, gray stone—a beautiful statue, nothing more. This was one of the ironies of fate, she supposed, that the first man to ever truly captivate her belonged in a museum and not in her bed.

Why was she surprised by her infatuation with a beautiful, silent, unreal man, anyway? Having grown up with five older brothers, she knew just how annoying real men could be. They burped and scratched in public, cracked derogatory jokes, and somehow managed to charm the pants off women before losing interest and moving on to other conquests.

Her stone warrior could not offend her. He couldn’t choose someone else if he thought her unattractive or too tall, because he was permanently mounted to the colored marble base that stood in her garden gallery. A marble base she now stood upon.

Another sigh slipped past Katie’s lips, and she fought a deep, primitive urge to touch him again, to hold him, to discover some sort of comfort or acceptance she’d never gained with the procession of men she dated.

This is wrong. I should walk away.

But she didn’t.

The cool Dallas breeze ruffled the tight constraints of her ponytail but did little to cool her ardor, and with each passing second the stone warrior’s stare unraveled the very fabric of her reservations. Finally, Katie gave in to her craving. She dragged her fingers across his jawbone, loving the slightly bearded texture that reminded her of a man just before his morning shave. She traced the curved outline of his ears and imagined what he would feel like had he been the flesh and blood man she so desired.

Fiery heat rippled across her nerve endings.

Of their own accord, her fingertips wandered lower, caressing his neck. His shoulders. His chest. She even circled his small, puckered nipples. A soft moan of pleasure wafted to her ears, the timbre low, raspy and masculine.

Katie jerked back in surprise. After a moment she relaxed, even experienced a twinge of disappointment when she realized her imagination was simply running wild. Again. Hadn’t she sometimes felt his breath upon her face when she drew close? Hearing him moan was no more fantastical than that.

Gravel crunched as a car meandered along her driveway.

Katie jerked around and watched wide-eyed as a black sedan halted just in front of her dilapidated, Victorian-style mansion. Tendrils of mortification raced up her spine, heating her cheeks. She’d been so lost in her scrutiny of the stone warrior, she’d forgotten about prying eyes and midday sunlight.

Just what had this intruder seen?

She scrambled from the dais. The moment her feet hit the soft grass, she counted to ten, using the time to calm her racing heart. She should have resisted the statue’s allure; instead she’d acted like a teenage girl kissing her favorite rock star’s poster. Well, no more, she thought, determination stiffening her spine. There will be no more touching the statue. In fact, there will be no more looking at him, and absolutely, positively no more thinking about him.

She watched a handsome, familiar male emerge from the sedan. Never one to back down from conflict, she maneuvered around the bushes and flower beds of her “pleasure garden”—so dubbed by the previous owner because the entire enclosure was littered with naked sculptures similar to the warrior she wasn’t going to think about ever again—and marched to the driveway.

“Damn it, Gray. What are you doing here?”

Her visitor grinned, not the least put out by her brusque tone. Above them, the sun breathed peacefully, its powerful rays illuminating his tall frame and wide shoulders with an orange gold halo. “You owe me a quarter for cussing, little sister.”

Frowning, Katie dug into her pocket, snatched out a quarter and tossed it to him. “I only cursed because you surprised the shi—” Thankfully, she stopped herself in time. “You startled me, okay. For God’s sake, call before coming over.”

“I called. You didn’t answer. You were supposed to be home.”

“So you started to worry,” she said. For some reason, all of her brothers still thought of her as a delicate flower in need of twenty-four-hour, seven-days-a-week protection. So what that she was now six feet tall and in top physical condition. So what that she’d attended numerous self-defense classes.

Gray shrugged, sheepish. “Yeah. I started to worry.”

“Did you consider I might have just stepped out?” She flashed him an exasperated but loving grin. “Don’t answer that. Just tell me what you need.”

“I wanted to see your newest acquisition. From out here it looks like a dump, by the way,” he added good-naturedly, motioning to the house with his chin. “Why aren’t you painting or laying tile or doing something to fix the place up? That’s your job, isn’t it?”

At that moment, Katie’s tense muscles relaxed. Gray hadn’t seen her with the stone warrior. Otherwise he would have been cracking jokes at her expense instead of inquiring about her activities. “I worked on the upstairs bathroom all morning and needed some fresh air.”

He gave the mansion another once-over. “Fresh air? I don’t think so. My guess? You feared the walls were about to cave in and got out while you could.”

“Ha, ha.”

“Honey, I sure hope you knew what you were doing when you signed the deed.”

“I’ve been buying, fixing and selling houses for four years. Give me some credit.” She might have chosen an unusual career for a woman, but she loved what she did. Even better, she had an instinct for real estate, knew when and what to buy, knew when to sell, and she almost always made a profit.

A dedicated skeptic, Gray remained unconvinced. “Please tell me you negotiated a good deal. I seriously doubt anyone will ever snap this baby up.”

“I’m willing to bet I sell this house for more money than you make in an entire year.”

“I’ll take that bet.” Grinning, he stroked his fingers over his jawline. “To even the odds, you only have to make five thousand dollars over the purchase price and restoration costs.”

Katie didn’t hesitate. “Deal.”

“If you win, I’ll wear a dress to the next family luncheon. If I win, you have to have dinner with Steven Harris. He’s a new detective in my unit,” Gray rushed on before she could protest. “Everyone likes him.”

She groaned. Her brother meant well, he truly did, but she wasn’t going out with any more of his friends. The last cop he set her up with had spent the entire night discussing—in minute detail—the way a bullet had once pierced his chest cavity. All of the fascinating details were delivered while she tried to suck down chopped tomato spaghetti.

“I’ve changed my mind,” she said succinctly. “The bet is off. I’d rather be staked to an anthill wearing nothing but a bologna bikini than go on another blind date.”

Her brother remained undeterred. “Are you seeing someone?”

“No.” She didn’t elaborate, knowing it would only encourage him. In the last year, she’d endured endless evenings of bad food, bad movies and even worse company. She had finally come to the conclusion that she suffered from a severe case of First Date Syndrome.

The only symptom—which was proving fatal—was that she always found something wrong with her love interests within an hour of meeting them. Richard ate his peas one at a time. John’s voice had a high, nasal pitch. Quinn walked with his knees bowed out. Mitch was too clingy. Worse, all of them were shorter than her own six-foot build, and she hated, hated looking down at a man. That was how she’d made it to her twenty-fifth birthday without a single male ever making it past the getting-to-know-you stage.

That was also how she’d made it to her twenty-fifth birthday without a single male getting inside her pants.

Deep down she truly desired a man to cuddle with, a man she could look up to (literally) and share her hopes and dreams with. A man who would kiss and lick every inch of her naked, quivering body. But how could she find such a man when she turned away the few who wanted her?

Maybe she should go on another blind date.

Gray uttered a long, drawn-out sigh. Thankfully, the sound whisked away her foolish musings. “If you’re holding out for perfection,” he said, “I’m afraid you’re doomed for disappointment.”

“Are you kidding me?” Though she was amused by his assumption, she sounded properly disgusted. “I already know there’s no such thing as a perfect man. My brothers taught me that lesson very well.”

“Smart-ass.”

“I’ll take my quarter back, thank you very much.” Grinning smugly, Katie held out one hand, palm up. She only had four quarters left, and she didn’t think they’d last through the day, much less another five minutes with Gray. Earning a little money back was an unexpected boon.

Her brother crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not the one who’s trying to quit cussing, therefore I owe you nothing more than an apology for soiling your pretty little ears with my crudity.”

Her grin quickly faded. “You have the worst potty mouth ever, and I swear you’re the one who taught me every dirty word I know.”

He shrugged as if to say, You damn well shouldn’t have listened.

“There’s a patch for smoking,” she grumbled. “Do you think they make one for cussing?”

“Absolutely not. Soap is the only cure.” The tinge of amusement in his voice told her Gray was recalling the many times during their childhood that he’d washed her mouth with soap. “So, when do I get the official tour?”

Though she longed to wash his mouth out, she said, “Now, if you’ve got time.”

“I do.”

“Then let’s get started. Since we’re outside, I’ll show you the garden first.” Oh, he was going to love this, she thought, suddenly bubbling with anticipation. “Come on.”

They walked the distance, playfully arguing over whose morning had been worse. He won, of course. Who could compete with being accosted by a delusional psychotic intent on ruling the world? When they reached the garden’s entrance, Katie stopped, gave Gray a moment to absorb the ambiance, then splayed her arms wide.

“Welcome to my playground,” she said.

Silence greeted her. Impatient, she tapped her foot and waited for some sort of reaction from him. One minute passed, then two. He hadn’t moved an inch, hadn’t emitted a single sound. Finally, she could stand it no longer. “So…what do you think?”

“Holy sh—”

“Don’t say it,” she ordered with a laugh.

“But those statues are—” His eyes widened with incredulity as he studied one statue, then another. “They’re getting off.”

“I know.”

Seven statues guarded the entrance. Three were male; four were female. All were nude and posed in different stages of self-gratification. Though he stood just around the lush, green thicket unobservable from where they stood, Katie knew her stone warrior had his hands at his sides. He wasn’t pleasuring himself, but he was obviously aroused. Magnificently aroused. His body as beautiful as any Greek statue. What he offered a woman, however, could not be covered by a fig leaf.

Why am I thinking about him? Stop!

“I take back my comment about the house being a dump.” Gray strolled to a female sculpture whose expression of utter rapture complemented her I’m-ready position. He ran his hand along the curve of her spine. “Hell, I’ll even buy the place from you.”

Katie’s chuckle floated across the daylight, mingling with the sudden eruption of her brother’s beeper. He checked the number. In less than a heartbeat of time, his shoulders tensed and his facial features hardened. He was no longer her teasing older brother; he was now a seasoned detective, distanced and in control. “I’ve got to go,” he said, his tone dark with secrets. “I’ll visit later this week, and you can give me the grand tour then.”

She barely had time to nod before he placed a swift kiss on her cheek, said, “Be good,” then raced away. Just like that she was alone again.

With nothing else to do in the garden, Katie strolled to the house, allowing herself only one backward glance. Inside, she blinked away the orange and red specks clouding her vision. Thick cobwebs filled each corner of the dining room, both high and low. Dirt stained every wall and the white paint was yellow and peeling. As she moved into the kitchen, her shoes crunched on the broken shards of what once must have been a magnificent chandelier.

The house needed major renovations to be considered even halfway livable, and at that moment, all the work required threatened to overwhelm her. One task at a time, she reminded herself. One task at a time. Earlier, she’d finished tiling the bathroom walls, so the only chore left on today’s To Do list was stripping the kitchen floor. First she had to remove the layer of carpet, which covered a layer of linoleum, which covered a layer of God knew what else. Tomorrow she would replace the wood trim and baseboards in the bathroom.

With a sigh, Katie punched play on her CD player and “Born to be Wild” rocked from the speakers. Two hours ticked by unnoticed as she pulled up and discarded the thin, dirty shag and matting. When she finished, she settled herself and her toolbox on the lime-green linoleum. In her position, a large bay window loomed in front of her, and she had a perfect view of the pleasure garden. Katie couldn’t shake the feeling that a pair of intense, observant eyes—his eyes—watched her, waiting and hoping for…something.

Her hands began to shake, but she continued working. After a while, she found it impossible to concentrate and had to stop altogether before she chiseled a finger instead of the floor. Not knowing what else to do, she nailed a sheet over the window, then drove home, cursing her wild imagination the entire way.

For the next three days, she worked from dawn until evening without difficulty. But all the while, a need to see her stone warrior was growing inside her. Even her palms began to ache for him, for a chance to glide over his hard, sculpted muscles.

So far, she’d broken only one portion of her resolve. She’d thought of him. Over and over again. But what about the rest? Not see him? Not touch him? Surely she could remain strong enough to resist his allure.

Her will broke completely the fourth day.

Early that morning she began fantasizing about his hands traveling over her body, his breath fanning her ear, his hard, naked human body pressing against hers. Those images haunted her, consumed her. When dusk painted the landscape, perspiration dotted her brow and her breath came in short, erratic pants, a condition that had nothing to do with manual labor.

Finally, she strode to the bay window, reached out with a shaky hand and removed the sheet. Moonlight spilled inside at the same moment she felt those invisible eyes upon her. All right, so she’d ignored another part of her decision. She was gazing at him, unable to look away. Big deal. She hadn’t touched him. And she wouldn’t. But even as she thought the words, Katie found herself strolling out the back door and into the twilight as if an invisible cord tugged her closer.

A chilly April breeze caressed her cheeks and danced several long, pale strands of hair across her shoulders. Spring was a versatile time in Texas. In the matter of a single day, a cool wind could mutate into sizzling heat or bone-numbing cold. The closer she came to the stone warrior, the more her blood threatened to overheat, and she was immensely grateful for the chilly air.

Up ahead, paper lanterns flickered, the bulbs within giving the illusion of actual flames. Crickets chirped a lazy tune. Colorful flowers bloomed in every corner, some yellow and pink, some purple and blue, but each filled the air with a sweet, floral fragrance. Katie worked her way around the winding bushes and soft petals that swayed in her path. When she faced the object of her torment, she came to an abrupt halt and drew in a deep breath.

At last.

Atop his marble base, the stone warrior towered above her, making Katie feel wonderfully small in comparison. As she had many times before, she studied the long, thick length of him—but only in the name of observation, of course. Lord, what would he feel like if he were actually real? What would he say and do to her? A shiver raced through her.

His muscled chest, arms and legs gave him a powerful aura very few men possessed. Long strands of bright green ivy stretched around his left leg, the only color to his form. He was so blatantly masculine, so wonderfully detailed. His eyes seemed heavy-lidded, sleepy, as if forever beckoning a woman to bed. The beautiful sculpted lines of his face reminded her of a movie star. Or someone equally unattainable.

“Damn it, you’ve invaded every aspect of my life. My dreams. My fantasies. My work. I don’t understand how I can want you, need you this much.”

Touch me, those mouthwatering lips of his seemed to say.

“No, I can’t,” she answered, but she was already reaching out. She traced her fingers over the cold, hard ridges of his abdomen, trying to absorb his essence. Maybe if she touched him enough, her obsession with him would wane. Entertaining that glimmer of hope, she moved her hands higher and circled his nipples. Just as before, a moan reverberated in her ears and the sound caused warm tingles to liquefy her bones.

What would happen if…She gulped and tentatively moved her palms downward. Her fingers wrapped around his penis, an action so utterly insane, but entirely necessary for her peace of mind. Another bolt of pleasure shot through her, this one so hotly intense she was nearly incinerated.

Katie jumped, startled. Surely she had just imagined such a forceful electrical charge. Brow wrinkled, she clasped his rigid length again. Shivers swirled and danced through her, just as intense and just as arousing. No, she had imagined nothing.

Unable to stop herself, she climbed the marble steps until she stood at the very top, placing her eye-to-eye with the giant warrior. Katie blinked incredulously. Once. Twice. She would swear those eyes truly saw her. The thought made her swallow with trepidation, but she shook it off. Statues, no matter how eerily real, were simply inanimate objects.

And yet…

Kiss me, his expression said.

The urge to do just that besieged her. Thankfully, her common sense reared its head. Touching a work of art she could somehow justify; kissing a work of art she could not.

Kiss me.

“No,” she said. “No, no, no.”

Kiss me! Kiss me! Kiss me!

This time, the words pounded through her mind, insistent, intense and demanding. Her gaze moved to the warrior’s immobile lips, and her fingers soon followed, tracing the lush outline. Well, I could kiss him this once, she thought dazedly, but only this once. Twilight offered a shadowy sort of protection, so no one would ever have to know.

That thought provided all the incentive she needed. Carefully, cautiously, Katie closed her eyes and cradled his cheeks in her hands. That invisible force pulled her, hard, and she moved closer, closer still. Then her lips met his. Ribbons of heat and passion and hunger traveled all the way through her, and all of her thoughts tapered to a close except one: This is what a kiss should be like.

Her hands slid from his cheeks and into his thick, silky hair, holding him captive. His lips were softer, warmer, than she imagined, and she lingered far longer than she should have before laying her head upon his shoulder. Her nostrils filled with the clean, male scent of him.

She could almost feel his hands caressing down her back, cupping her butt and guiding her even closer against him. She could almost feel his breath against the curve of her neck and the hot wetness of his tongue as it glided along her collarbone. Could almost feel the slow, rhythmic beat of his heart.

“I truly am insane,” she whispered, but Lord, she liked the feeling. Another breathy sigh slipped past her throat. Crickets began another leisurely tune while fireflies flickered and danced overhead. “If you were real, I’d gobble you up in one tasty bite.”

Then a deep voice whispered next to her ear, “I believe that can be arranged.”

CHAPTER TWO

THE VOICE WAS pure unadulterated sin, like warm brandy on a cold night, and so suggestively sexual Katie thought she had imagined it, that her fantasy life was hitting a new level. But then she came to realize two startling facts. One, her inner voice had never spoken with a raspy, masculine accent before. And two, the strong, bracing arms she had visualized around her waist were actually there.

Shocked, she snapped to attention…and found herself staring into the most beautiful pair of eyes. Eyes that were pale blue, almost crystalline, and aglow with knowing, wicked promise.

Eyes that belonged to a man, not a statue.

Katie gasped with a combination of disbelief, fascination and mortification. Where was the gray stone? Where was the freaking gray stone?

Breath snagged in her throat, and she squeezed her eyes tightly closed. When she refocused, everything would be back to normal. She was sure of it. She was, after all, a mostly sane person. Yes, she experienced moments of madness—like kissing the statue, for instance—but those moments always passed.

Please, Lord, let this moment pass.

Very slowly, she cracked open her eyelids.

The warrior’s image remained the same: human.

Damn, damn, damn, she thought desperately. How could a flesh-and-blood man with bronzed, completely kissable skin be holding her in his embrace, the heat of his body seeping through her clothes, his heartbeat pounding against her chest? Oh, God, the moon suddenly seemed brighter, the air thicker.

“You’re…you’re…” Mystified, she struggled to form a coherent sentence. There was an explanation for this. She had only to ask. But when she opened her mouth, only one word formed. “How?”

He withdrew his arms from her waist. Looking bewildered, he slowly moved his body this way and that, stretching and twisting each vertebra of his back as if for the very first time. And then—Lord above, he smiled, a devastating smile that revealed even white teeth and sent waves of sexual heat straight to her core.

“I’ve owned this property for two and a half weeks, and I’ve walked through this garden almost every single day. You’ve been right here, hard and cold and stone. You’re a statue,” she babbled. “I know you’re a statue.”

“Nay, katya. I was a statue.” Just then his eyes widened with—joy? Awe? Disbelief? She wasn’t sure which. Whatever the emotion, he appeared as if he had just realized the full extent of his proclamation.

What the hell was going on? Katie’s confusion grew with lightning speed. She needed to hear something intelligent and rational. Something believable. Not “I was a statue.”

Still grinning in that luscious way, he closed his eyelids and muttered a long string of unfamiliar words, his tone urgent. When he refocused, he paused to catalog his surroundings. One heartbeat passed. Two. Fierce disappointment pulled at his lips, eradicating his smile. He uttered the words again. Again surveyed his surroundings.

“Explain how this is possible,” she said, a pleading quality in her voice. “How you were stone, and now you’re a man. A trick of the light, maybe? Or a hallucination? That makes sense, right?”

“Nay.” He shook his head, causing dark locks of hair to sway at his temples. “It makes no sense whatsoever.” He reached out then and touched her cheekbone, as if he needed to reassure himself that she was real.

Perhaps it was that gentle caress, or maybe even her own wits finally sparking to life, but Katie suddenly realized that she had no idea what this very real, very muscled man planned to do to her. Battling a surge of fear, she slapped at his hand, pushed at his chest and spun around, ready to dart to her truck and speed away. But she had forgotten that she was perched on a ledge several feet above the grassy foundation. She teetered precariously on the edge, trying to regain her balance without actually reaching behind her and grabbing hold of the stranger.

A second later, she hurtled face-first toward the ground. She twisted midair and managed to land on her butt with a painful thwack. The impact knocked the air from her lungs and whisked several strands of hair over her eyes.

Once she found her breath, she jumped to her feet. She didn’t run as she’d first intended, however. Be it shock or fascination, Katie remained firmly in place. The man had stepped down from the dais and stood just in front of her. He’s taller than I am, she thought, her eyes widening. So tall, in fact, she was forced to look up, up, up. The realization caused her common sense to melt like ice cream in a hot summer sun. Amazingly, the top of her head barely peeked above his shoulders, and for the first time in her life, she felt breathtakingly feminine and surprisingly vulnerable.

“Were my muscles not so stiff,” he said, his ice-blue gaze sliding suggestively down her body, “I would have caught you.” He took a step toward her.

What am I doing? Retreat! “Stay where you are,” she said, inching away.

He sighed. “I mean only to ascertain you are unharmed. Women are weak, delicate creatures, and you collided quite forcefully with the ground.”

Katie stopped, her eyes narrowing as everything clicked into place like a lightbulb inside her mind. She scanned the garden. Her brothers were behind this and were most likely hiding in nearby bushes, having a good laugh at her expense. No one except her family spouted that “women are weak” crap.

Lord, the man standing before her was probably Steven Harris, the detective Gray wanted her to date.

“Gray, Nick, Erik, Denver…you can come out now,” she called, spinning around to make sure her voice carried. “I know you’re here.”

Steven, aka the statue, crouched down in attack position, scrutinizing the garden. His muscles tightened and strained. “These enemies await you?” His voice was almost imperceptible.

“Not enemies. Idiots.” Katie shouted for her brothers again. “The joke is getting old. Come out. I know this is Steven.” She rammed a pointed finger into the hard warmth of the man’s chest.

“I am not called Steven.”

He said it with enough conviction and disgust that a small kernel of unease slithered along her spine. “I mean it,” she yelled, her voice sharper than before, “come out or I’ll give this guy the Tae Kwon Do Kick of Death you taught me.”

“So there is no danger to you?” the man asked.

Only to my sanity. “No.”

His stance relaxed and he turned away from her. He began stretching again, this time rolling his shoulders and ankles. All the while the words I am not called Steven echoed in her mind. If he wasn’t Gray’s friend, who—and what—was he? The direction her mind veered just then scared and confounded her all the more. Had he…was it possible…could his transformation have happened supernaturally?

No. No, no, no, no, no. The guy wasn’t Steven Harris. Fine. That was easy to accept. But he was simply a man. A man who had a lot of explaining to do, be he a psycho killer or a practical jokester sent by her brothers.

She chewed on her bottom lip. Psycho killer? “Maybe I should go,” she said, trying for a nonchalant tone, but sounding more like a buzz saw grinding against wood. She began hedging backward again. He didn’t offer a word or glance of protest, didn’t act as if he cared, and after a moment’s thought that brought her to a halt. Surely a killer would have tried to stop her.

She stood there, curiosity battling with prudence while she silently observed this man who had appeared from nowhere, taking in every detail, searching for answers. He was just so…big. One flick of his wrist, and he could snap her neck like a twig. There was a gentleness to him, however, that belied any menacing intentions. A walking contradiction, he was. She must have blinked or lost focus, because she didn’t notice any sudden movement toward her, yet suddenly he was just in front of her, looking at her, into her.

“I thank you for breaking the curse,” he said, tracing a finger along her nose. “But now I must go.” Without another word, he slipped around her and strode away.

Curse? “Where are you going?” The man had materialized in her garden, wearing nothing but a smile, and thought he could leave without any type of explanation? Oh, that just pissed her off, made her forget any lingering hint of fear. He was big enough to hurt her, yes, but she was mad enough to inflict some major damage of her own. “I demand you tell me who you are and how you transformed from stone to man.”

In a graceful motion at odds with his size and previous inflexibility, he spun around to face her. His eyes possessed a wistful quality. In a mere snap of time, his soft expression mutated into potent fury, like fire across a night sky, both hot and cold at the same time. “A woman has no right to issue such a demand.”

Had a sword been strapped to his waist, she felt certain he would have unsheathed it just then—and used it on her! He was tense and ready, like a vengeful hunter inspecting cornered prey.

Unexpectedly, he turned and again strode away.

Just let him go, she thought. But Katie found herself calling out, “Wait!” She jolted after him and latched on to his arm. A puny action, really, but he stopped all the same. “You can’t leave. You’re naked.”

He took his time facing her this time. When he did, he arched one brow in an insolent salute and gazed down at her. “You know not your place, woman.”

His words expressed displeasure. But his voice was husky and richly intent, and resonated a secret, carnal meaning meant only for lovers. Did he realize what his tone had just suggested? He stared down at her, his eyes heavy-lidded and erotically inviting. Her nerve-endings sparked with renewed life. Oh, yes. He knew. He knew exactly what he’d suggested, and if she gave him the slightest encouragement, he’d strip her down and put her “in her place.”

Katie gulped, feigning ignorance. “I own this land. This is my place.”

“’Tis not what I meant and well you know it. Someday a man will show you exactly where you belong by giving you the savage bedding you silently asked for each time you passed through this garden.”

Hearing the actual words proved more potent than the veiled innuendo, and she jerked her fingers from their tenuous hold on his bicep. What stung was that there was nothing she could say to discount him. Only five minutes ago she had caressed the stone man’s nipples, wrapped her palm around his penis (twice!), and kissed his lips.

This wasn’t any friend of her brothers’.

The truth of it danced through her, undeniable now in every way. Her brothers would never allow a man to intimidate her like this. Or even invite her to participate in a night of debauchery. Not even for a joke.

“Only a proper bedding will teach you proper respect for a warrior,” he said. “Unfortunately, I have not the time to instruct you. Now, I thank you once again, katya, but I must return home.” Then, for the third time, he tried to abandon her.

In this instance, however, he stopped without her urging.

He glanced left then right, studying the horizon. He cursed in a language she didn’t understand, then spun around to face her. A scowl marred the perfection of his features. “I have just realized you are a necessary burden, for I know nothing of your world beyond this enclosure.”

Her brows knit at “necessary burden.” Her nostrils flared at his next words.

“Take me to the nearest sorcerer.”

“No way in hell,” she shot back.

He crossed his arms over his chest. The stubborn stance said that he was a man used to issuing commands and receiving instant compliance. Normally she wouldn’t even think twice about confronting someone with an overabundance of testosterone. But the way this guy was looking at her, as if he was a king and she was his royal subject headed for the guillotine, almost made her jump into action.

“You will do as I say or—” He stopped abruptly. His eyes widened. “Curse it! There is something else I had forgotten in the excitement of returning to my homeland.” He bared his teeth in a scowl. “’Tis something I would as soon forget again, but cannot, for my continued freedom depends upon it.”

“What?”

“To begin, I must bed you.”

Katie stifled a gasp of alarm. Or maybe it was a gasp of anticipation. Maybe even anger that he’d said he would rather forget her. Whichever the reason, she’d already lost all claims to sanity. Any other woman would have run screaming for help before he’d finished his last sentence. Bed her, indeed.

Silence stretched between them. With each passing second, she became increasingly aware of his nakedness, of him. She smelled his warm, masculine scent, felt the caress of his gaze over each and every part ofherbodyasif she were naked. Her blood heated, and her hormones raced into overdrive, calling out, “I’ll take you, I’ll take you, and I’ll do anything you want.”

“I won’t discuss bedding you,” she said, cutting through the silence, “but I will tell you that there are no sorcerers.”

For a moment his expression became unguarded, revealing pain and fury, but also desolation, a desolation that tied her stomach in a thousand tiny knots. “We do have psychics,” she added, willing to say anything to wipe away such bleakness.

“Psychics?”

Was he purposefully acting perplexed or did he truly not know? “Psychics are people who claim they can tell the future with supernatural powers. You know, through magic.”

He paused, considering her words. “I seek someone who wields magic, so aye, your psychic will do nicely.” Despite his now amiable tone, cold determination claimed the lines of his jaw. “Now, take off your clothes. When both our bodies are sated, I will allow you to take me to the psychic.”

He would allow her? Gee, thanks. “My answer is no,” she said firmly. “On all counts.”

The blue of his eyes sparkled like ice chips in a winter storm and was the only warning she received about his intentions. Before she had time to blink, he was on her, pinning her back against a statue. She knew she should have been scared, but she wasn’t. She was strangely aroused.

I don’t know anything about this man, she reminded herself. She didn’t know how he liked his coffee, or if he kicked little puppies when no one was watching. Her long-ignored body sprang to life, anyway. Her nipples strained for contact, and her hips arched forward, arched into him. Bedding him didn’t seem like such a bad idea at the moment.

“I did not ask you, katya, I commanded that it be so.” The low timbre of his voice held the steely edge of a sword.

She gulped, unsure whether she was still turned on or if she was deathly afraid. The man oozed power and authority and if she didn’t get his mind out of the gutter, hers would be joining him there. “Uh, about the psychic. All business establishments are closed until tomorrow morning.”

He paused. “When the sun rises, you will take me to see this man of magic. I will have your word on it.” His lips parted as he awaited her answer, giving a hint of the pearly whites beneath. “As for the bedding—”

“If you finish that sentence, I swear to God I’ll never take you to see a psychic.”

His mouth tightly closed, and he remained quiet, though anger seethed just below the surface of his skin.

Wow. She hadn’t expected the threat to work, but now that it had…“I want you to answer some questions for me.”

His expression darkened. He surprised her by barking, “Ask.”

So she did. “How did you make the stone disappear?”

The fine lines around his mouth pulled taut.

She waited, hoping to hear words like new next-door neighbor, trap door and silver paint. Instead, she heard only silence, and as minute after minute dragged by, her sense of unease grew. Finally, she could stand it no longer. “You’re starting to frighten me here. I mean, I know what I’m thinking isn’t possible, and yet…” She peeked up at him through her lashes.

Again, silence. She thought her nerves would completely frazzle before he answered.

“Magic,” he finally snapped, as if she was the meanest woman in the world for making him answer. “The stone disappeared through magic.”

She opened her mouth to question him further, but his arms snaked around her waist, halting the words in her throat. Unbidden, a shiver moved through her, and she leaned into him. Her body was reacting all on its own, heedless of her will. Lusting after a man was natural, expected even, but having sex with a stranger journeyed beyond her realm of acceptable.

That didn’t stop her mind from imagining his hands roaming down her stomach, slipping inside her pants, under her panties, and…another shiver racked her. Damn it, she had to get away from this man, had to think clearly before she did something crazy, like actually throw herself at him and demand he “put her in her place.” But when she tried to dart away, his arms tightened around her, keeping her still.

“Let me go,” she demanded. Her arousal mingled with another spring of fear.

His hold only tightened further.

“I’m warning you. Let me go before I show you the skills of Master Kai’s best student.”

“I know not this Master Kai, but neither he nor his finest student are a match for me.” To prove his point, he brought Katie more snugly into him, hardness to softness. Cotton to flesh.

Far from cowed or charmed, she was now furious. Eyes narrowed, she bit out, “We’ll just see about that, won’t we?” She was just about to knee him in the groin when he squeezed her butt, startling her.

“Allow me to give you a demonstration of my persuasive skills.” He pressed the juncture of her thighs against his growing erection. Despite her best rational intentions, Katie found her blood becoming molten lava, an inferno of need. While his lower body rhythmically brushed against hers, he palmed one of her breasts. So unexpected and new, these touches electrified her, moved across every fiber of her being with the intensity of lightning. Her knees weakened, right along with her will.

She licked her lips and prayed he didn’t notice her mounting desire.

He noticed.

A dark brow rose, taunting her. “Have you, mayhap, changed your mind about the bedding?”

Yes, yes, yes. “No,” she forced out. “I want you to let me go. Now.”

He didn’t look convinced, but he said, “Know that I consent to your will because it is my wish to do so.” With those magical, deft fingers, he kneaded each rounded curve of her buttocks. “Otherwise such a demand would go unheeded.” Then suddenly, he released her.

She darted away. “Touch me again, and you’ll be sorry.”

He gave a husky chuckle that rumbled deep in his chest. “Sweet katya, arousal burns bright in your eyes and your body trembles when I touch you. You could run from me, but do not. When I touch you again, you are the only one who will be sorry…for your denial.”

She gasped at his implication—even though he spoke the truth. “That’s not arousal in my eyes, that’s fatigue.” Lie. “I tremble because I’m cold.” Bigger lie. “And for your information, I haven’t run away because I’m waiting for a chance to pummel you.” The biggest lie of all.

“Is that what your world calls mating now?” His half grin slowly and deliciously lifted into a full-fledged smile. His gaze raked over her tall frame in a bold scrutiny, somehow making Katie feel as if he’d removed every stitch of her clothing. “Then much do I look forward to your pummeling, katya.”

She scowled. “My name is Katie, not Katya.”

“You are a katya to me. A—” he searched for the right words “—little witch.”

Her jaw opened, then closed with a snap. Instead of being pleased that the endearment didn’t mean “pleasure slave” or “easy lay,” she was insulted. “How would you like me to call you giant bastard?”

“Call me whatever you wish.” His grin remained in place. “Be warned, however, that I will make you kiss the sting of such a sharp sobriquet away. A woman’s duty, after all, is to pleasure her man.”

He was acting as if he controlled the fate of the universe—her universe most particularly. Well, there was one fact he would soon learn about her: A woman she might be, a doormat she was not. “Look,” she told him, “I’d appreciate it if you’d stop with the pleasure talk. I’m a woman, not a one-nine-hundred number.”

His brow puckered with confusion. “I know you are a woman. Did I not hold your breast in my hand?”

I will not scream. “You have five seconds to help me understand what happened or—” Nothing sounded quite brutal enough, so she finished with, “Or you’ll regret it.”

“What is there to understand?” As if he couldn’t tolerate going without human contact, he began closing the distance between them again, this time at a steady, predatory pace. “You broke the curse, katya. You set me free. Now you must give yourself to me body and soul so that the curse will be broken forever.”

As if that explained everything. There was no time to ponder his words. He was getting closer by the second. Naked man approaching. Naked man approaching. She darted to the left. He followed.

“I warned you not to touch me.” Now she darted to the right. He followed. And then he was in front of her, once more so close she could feel the heat of his body. Her back pressed against the tall, rising column of a prickly bush. She gazed up at him, the scent of raw male virility wafting to her nostrils, carnal and sexy. Without pausing to think about her actions, she gave a sharp twist and placed her foot behind his knee. That knee collapsed and brought him propelling in her direction. She latched on to his arm and sent him all the way to the ground, face-first. When he hit, he hit hard, all that muscle and brawn weighing him down. But he didn’t pause, didn’t stop to take a breath. He was back on his feet almost instantly and facing her with a look bordering on murderous.

“Do not attempt that again.” From his expression to his tone, his need to retaliate shone brightly. Yet he didn’t. He remained in place, glaring and huffing instead. “Next time I will not be surprised and you will find yourself my prisoner.”

“Just maintain your distance and there doesn’t have to be a next time.”

His lips thinned with displeasure, telling her without words he would rather throw her over his shoulder and spank her—her treacherous heart gave an anticipatory leap at that thought—but he nodded stiffly. “How did you learn such a trick?”

“Hard work.” At last she was able to draw in a steady breath, and she forced her heartbeat to slow. Getting her eyes to peer away from him was another matter entirely. Thick battle scars formed a random pattern across his abdomen. Somehow, each one added to his appeal. A whorl of hair surrounded his navel, then dipped enticingly—Do not look down, she commanded herself. But she did anyway and prayed he didn’t notice.

He gave her a slow, knowing perusal in return.

Katie cleared her throat. “Tell me more about the curse.”

Bitterness hardened his features, and she felt a twinge of guilt for mentioning what was so obviously a painful subject. However, that twinge was not strong enough to make her revoke the question.

“That need not concern you,” he said.

Oh, really? “Do you want my help or not? With the psychic,” she added quickly, dispelling any notion she meant the bedding.

His eyes narrowed. “Percen de Locke is a powerful sorcerer, as well as my half brother. He cursed me, locking me inside stone, able to hear, see and feel everything around me, yet unable to respond. Until a fair maiden’s kiss set me free. Temporarily.”

Well, she thought, she’d wanted a rational explanation, and this was a far cry from rational. The guy had been locked in stone and her kiss had temporarily set him free. Yeah, right. That kind of thing only happened in fairy tales. Besides that, she was no princess charming. Katie drummed her fingers along her crossed arms and thought to expose his lie for what it was. “You wouldn’t, by chance, have powers of your own?” she asked. “Magical powers that can prove your story?”

He arched a brow. “What of my transformation?”

“I need something more.”

Eyeing her thoughtfully, he said, “Would you willingly invite me to your bed if I possessed these magical powers?”

She wasn’t sure, but she thought she detected a note of resentment in his tone. Katie studied his masculine features. Not a flicker of emotion betrayed him, however. “No,” she said, “I wouldn’t. And don’t change the subject yet again. Can you prove your story or not?”

He blew out a breath of frustration. “Though this garden is remote and not many have passed through over the ages, I have had centuries to study your world. You are a race that relies on the seen, the explainable.” A pitying light entered his eyes. “Your people fear magic because they cannot control it. Where I hail, both Great-Lord and peasants laud mystical abilities, and before you ask again in your strange way, aye, I wield magic. Magic that I can prove.”

A sense of impending doom slithered along her spine. “You said you have studied my world. By that you mean another state or country or continent, right?”

“Nay. World means celestial body. Planet. Star.” His eyes glazed with sadness, giving him a vulnerable aura that touched her. “For me, world means Imperia. My home.”

He held up one palm and closed his eyes. A look of intense concentration etched his expression. As she watched, a small, colorful globe materialized in the air above his skin, spinning slowly. Three smaller globes circled above it. Every inch was exquisitely detailed, making each orb appear solid, and yet colorfully translucent.

She tentatively reached out and touched the largest globe, surprised to find the sphere firm and warm. At the moment of contact, vivid pictures flashed in her mind like the click of a camera. She gasped. Crystal castles stretched to the violet-and-pink skyline. Majestic, dragonlike creatures soared from cloud to cloud. Trees arched in every direction, heavy with brilliant sapphire and diamond-colored fruit. Most beautiful of all were the blankets of white grass that billowed with a gentle, dew-kissed breeze.

His expression tightened, as if he were using every ounce of his strength to maintain the image above his palm, but the globes began to waver, then disappeared altogether. His hand dropped to his side.

Oh. My. God. He’d been telling the truth. Magic. A cold shiver raked her, freezing her limbs. No mortal man could conjure such a wondrous apparition. And no earthly man could change from stone to flesh in less than a heartbeat.

“You have magic powers, and you’re an alien.” She blinked, then blinked again. Images of spaceships and bedlam danced through her head. “You’re an alien, and you have magic powers.” Maybe if she said it a thousand times, her shock would melt away. “You’re an alien. An alien with magic powers.”

When he didn’t respond, she added, “You don’t look like a creature from another planet.” Really, what else could she say? Her mind had yet to return from hiatus.

“Just what does a creature from another planet look like?” he asked.

“Green skin, a long, slimy body and large black eyes that look at you as if you need to be laid out flat on a table with a probe slowly working its way toward parts of your body that don’t bear mentioning.”

“I have encountered one race who looks as you’ve described.” He shrugged. “They travel from world to world searching for knowledge and enlightenment.”

“On spaceships?”

“Aye.”

She shivered, never wanting to come face-to-face with the “enlightened” race. But Lord, had she ever thought to come in contact with any otherworldly being? NO! “How did you travel here?” Katie mentally patted herself on the back. Here she was, conversing quite rationally with an alien, not lying on the ground in a dead faint.

His lips thinned. “My mother sought to aid me,” he replied tightly, “and opened a vortex that sent me from my world to yours.”

Her gaze darted around the maze, cataloging the other statues. Had they all been sent from another world? Were they all aliens just waiting for her kiss so that they could come alive?

The warrior in front of her chuckled, as if hearing her unspoken question. Or maybe she’d spoken it aloud. At this point, Katie wasn’t sure what she was doing, saying or thinking.

“I am the only one,” he assured her. “The others are merely stone.”

Her shoulders slumped with relief. Lord knew her body systems couldn’t take another male like—She drew a blank. “What’s your name?”

“I am Jorlan en Sarr. Once the first in command of Great-Lord Gui-en Sarr’s army.” With a proud tilt of his chin, he crossed his arms over the solid wall of his chest.

“Well, I’m Katie James, first in command of James Real Estate.”

“Katie.” He said her name differently than she’d ever heard it, halting over each syllable and prolonging the a and e. Kaay-tee. He nodded with approval. “Similar to katya. Such a name well suits you.”

For some insane reason, she was pleased that he thought so.

Just then, a night wind drifted by, causing his nipples to pebble. Katie was proud of herself for noticing because that meant she hadn’t been looking down south.

“You know,” she said, “it’s just occurred to me that we can continue this conversation inside the house. You must be cold.” The best thing about going inside was that she could cover his nakedness with a sheet. That, in turn, would stifle her growing attraction to him.

Good God, she was lusting after an alien.

At least he isn’t a psycho killer, whispered beneath her thoughts.

“You are not cold,” he said, “and yet you are wearing practically nothing.”

“I’m wearing a tank top and jean shorts. Perfectly decent attire.”

“I am attired as Elliea intended.”

“But—”

“Lest you forget, I would have your word that you will help me locate a sorcerer at tomorrow’s dawning.”

Another breeze blew by, and this time she was looking down south. Her cheeks heated.

“Well?” Jorlan asked. Obviously patience was not one of his virtues.

“It’s hard to concentrate when you’re—” she searched her mind for the proper word “—waving around like that. For God’s sake cover yourself.”

He glanced down at his nude form and shrugged, completely unabashed. “The male body is nothing to be ashamed of, katya. Best you become used to mine very quickly.”

Just what was he implying? That he would never wear clothes in her presence? Or that he planned to make hot, dirty monkey love to her whether she granted permission or not, so she should become accustomed to his size? Either way, he would damn well put on some clothes!

“I give you my word I’ll take you to a psychic tomorrow. Happy now?”

“Nay.” His chin tilted to the side, and he worried one hand over his jawbone. His eyes were guarded, waiting. He resembled a man about to encounter a dangerous storm. “Women cannot be trusted to honor their word.”

Katie snorted. She wanted to ask him why he’d sought her promise at all since he never intended to believe her. She rolled her eyes instead. “You’re lucky I’m feeling gracious, Jordie. I’m going to allow you to live after making such a chauvinistic remark.”

He frowned.

She grinned. “Now let’s hustle inside. Unless, of course, you plan to break your word.”

“Only a dishonorable man would do so. Not I,” he ground out, his tone iron-hard.

“Really? Well, I believe the deal was that if I gave you my solemn oath to take you to a sorcerer tomorrow…which I did…you would go inside…but there you stand. Hmm, what can that mean?”

His frown became a fierce scowl.

Good. She’d made her point, though why she was goading him, she didn’t know. She did know she was beginning to feel safe in his presence. Odd, but true.

“After you.” She waved him ahead, partly to watch the way his butt moved as he walked, and partly because she didn’t want him behind her. Although, as she followed behind him, she realized she didn’t like the submissive implication that scenario provided.

He threw her a glance over his shoulder, a wicked gleam darkening his irises to a smoky blue. “Mayhap next time you can return the favor and stroll naked in front of me.”

Not even if he was dying and that was the only way to save him.

The closer they came to the house, the more she realized this man was her responsibility. He might taste sweeter than chocolate ice cream on a sizzling hot day. He might be planning to seduce her so she would learn her “proper place.” (That one still had the power to infuriate her.) And he might be a warrior used to control. But she had kissed him. She had set him free, and that meant his well-being, for a while, at least, fell on her shoulders.

Inside, she watched Jorlan dart about, inspecting the splintered wood, wallpaper samples and tools that were scattered throughout. Katie snatched a paint-splattered sheet from the floor and wrapped it around his shoulders. He didn’t acknowledge her action. Fortunately, his lack of attention didn’t dislodge the sheet. Unfortunately, the colorful linen did little to detract from his masculinity. He could have held a box of tampons in one hand and a purse in the other and still she would not doubt his virility.

“If we’re from different worlds,” she asked, “how do you know my language?”

“Think you I could not conquer your primitive language whilst I whiled away the last few centuries?” He sounded angry, offended and amused all at once.

She opened her mouth to explain she hadn’t doubted his intelligence, that she’d merely wondered if that, too, was through magic, but she said instead, “If you’re smart enough to learn an entire language, what kind of mental block kept you from learning about women’s liberation?”

“I learned about equal rights and other such nonsense, but what I learned was not what you would like. I learned that your world order began to decline the moment your men lost their warrior instincts.”

“Well, maybe you just didn’t have the right teachers.” Her fists clenched. “Let’s go into the living room and I’ll teach you a thing or two about feminine power.”

At last he turned those startling blue eyes to her. “When I go into this ‘living room’ with you, it will not be for conversation.”

Change of plan. “Are you thirsty?” she rushed out, then didn’t wait for his answer when she said, “Of course you are. You’ve been unable to drink since the Stone Age. I’ll get you something. I have a cooler in my truck.” With that, she raced into the cool night air.

He softly chuckled, and his whispered words, “There is no escape from me this eve,” followed her the entire way to her vehicle.

CHAPTER THREE

JORLAN EN SARR FELT his lips kick up in a smile as he watched the little witch scamper away. And she was a witch, whether she denied it or not, for she had heard his voice, had felt his urgency, while he resided inside the stone—something no other woman had done during his thousand spans of confinement.

His smile continued to grow as he imagined her doing to his flesh what she’d done to his stone casing. He was a male, after all. A healthy, lusty male, at that, and it had been too long since his last coupling. But then, suddenly, his amusement faltered. His expression went flat. As distracting as little Katie was with her flashing amber eyes and touch me/do not touch me demeanor, she could not overshadow his primary focus: total, complete freedom. Total, complete vengeance.

Many centuries had passed since the eve his curse had been spoken into existence, yet his need to rid the galaxies of Percen de Locke, to punish his brother in the most painful way possible, had only grown and festered until it became a bone-deep wound. Over the spans Jorlan had stroked the wound like a lover, embracing his need for vengeance with single-minded intent. Release.

He did not care why his brother, the most powerful sorcerer in all of Imperia, had cursed him to a life of misery and desolation. Nay, he cared only about striking the bastard down. Under the right circumstances, a sorcerer could live for eternity, sustained by magic. Jorlan’s own mother was a former priestess of the Druinn and had seen over fourteen centuries.

Besides that, time flowed differently upon each world. A thousand years had passed here, yet how many eves, seasons, or spans had passed on Imperia?

It didn’t matter. De Locke was still alive. Jorlan knew it, felt it.

Vengeance would be his.

Just thinking about the cries of mercy he would incite and ignore brought a sense of anticipation that released his muscles from their viselike clasp. Even more than the joy of revenge, however, was the joy of returning home. Tomorrow Katie would lead him to a sorcerer—psychic, her world called them—and he would use that person’s power to send himself through the cosmos. Home. By Elliea, had he ever thought to return a free man? Dreamed, aye. But never had he truly believed. Until now.

Upon first realizing the stone had dissipated, Jorlan had forgotten all thoughts but those of home and had attempted a spell to open a vortex. That spell had promptly failed, for his powers were, and had always been, unstable. He was glad, though, that he was still here, for he had yet to accomplish the second requirement of his brother’s spell. Katie might have set him free with her kiss, but his freedom lasted only a short while. Only fourteen days. Unless and until he made her fall in love with him. ’Twas a cruelty on his brother’s part, and the only way to forever free himself.

I will not return to stone, he vowed darkly. Nay, he would do whatever was necessary to prevent the curse from claiming him once again. Even seduce and leave the lovely Katie, for how else to win a woman’s heart than to bed her?

Jorlan knew Katie desired him, and he did not think it would take more than this one night to woo her. He would simply give her the greatest sensual pleasure she’d ever known. No woman, save those with no heart to give, could guard themselves against such an assault. He had experience with the heartless variety, and knew from watching Katie these last cycles that she was nothing like Maylyn, a heartless wench to be sure, and the only woman he’d ever been foolish enough to love.

Drawing in a deep breath, he imagined the air laden with the majestic scents of Imperia. There was no other land that branded its essence onto a man’s innermost being, almost as if the very foundation was an old, dear friend. There was no other land that filled the void inside him. No other ruled by mystical principles, where magic was lauded and male domination accepted.

In that moment, Jorlan was filled with a sense of desperation, of longing more intense than a bolt of lightning. No doubt this night would stretch the length of eternity. Scowling now, he whipped away the cloth that draped his shoulders. The soft material whooshed to the floor. Using physical activity as an outlet for his emotions, he worked the lingering stiffness from his limbs. At first his movements were clipped and unsure. But as blood rushed through his veins, reminding him that he truly lived, his riotous emotions calmed, as did his gestures.

“I’m back,” Katie called a bit later, her tone hesitant, yet laden with forced gaiety. She marched into the unfurnished chamber holding two red containers.

Jorlan stilled. Through half-lowered lids he watched her legs close the remaining distance between them. She had the legs of a warrior maiden: long, slender, firm, the kind that wrapped around a man’s waist and held on till the end of the ride. The thought caused every inch of him to harden. Seducing her would be no burden. In fact, he was more than ready, more than willing, to begin. Human contact had been denied him for far too long.

When Katie had strolled in the garden for the first time, he hadn’t been curious enough about her to truly notice her. Aye, he had desired her kiss to set him free, yet he hadn’t cared about the woman herself. Too many females had passed and ignored him for him to place any hope on another. But this one hadn’t ignored him, and he realized now that he was all too interested in the woman herself. She truly was a vision, and as he continued to study her, something long forgotten stirred within him. Something…tender.

He mentally cursed himself. By all that was holy, he would not feel anything tender for this woman. Nay, he would allow himself to feel nothing deeper than arousal. When a man allowed himself to feel anything more, he opened himself up to hurt and betrayal.

Looking nervous and unsure, Katie flipped her ponytail to one side. The action reminded him of how she’d tossed him to the ground as if he were an insignificant pest, a feat no other woman (or man, for that matter) had ever done. What skill she possessed! What strength. He imagined all that energy beneath him. Above him. Beside him. Around him. Yet she claimed she wanted nothing to do with him sexually. Well, he would just have to use every ounce of his seductive prowess to make her forget her misgivings. He grinned slowly. Her seduction, and subsequent avowal of love, was a much-needed challenge and would most assuredly help the night pass more quickly. Also, her seduction would aid him with his vengeance quest, for what man could think clearly when his cock begged for attention?

She came to a sudden halt, no longer appearing nervous. Nay, she appeared furious. “What are you staring at?”

“You.” And he continued to do so. She did not have the boyishly slender hips he’d seen on other women of her world. Katie’s body was curvy, sweetly rounded in all the right places, and inherently female. The succulent swells of her breasts and the generous curve of her waist fit perfectly with her unusual height.

“Stop that right now,” she demanded. “You’re staring at me like I’m a candy bar, and you haven’t eaten in a year.”

“I will stop when I am finished and not a moment sooner.” Right now she wore a thin top covering and a pair of cropped blue drocs—jean shorts, she had called them. The luscious skin of her neck, collarbone, arms and legs was left uncovered for his perusal, and peruse her—all of her—he did. So thoroughly, in fact, that he counted eighteen freckles atop each shoulder.

Did she have freckles hidden elsewhere?

Most of her hair was scraped back, yet a few pale tendrils spilled free like warm shimmers of sunlight. Not a single curl or wave marred the straight perfection of each strand. He suddenly longed to comb his fingers through the thick, silky mass, to spread its heaviness across his pillow.

Her features were not beautiful in a traditional sense. Nay, they were different, exotically sensual, carnally alluring. She had high cheekbones, a pert, up-tilted nose, and large amber-colored eyes framed by thick, sooty lashes. Those eyes slanted upward, giving her a permanent take-me-to-bed expression. And her lips…by Elliea, the more he studied them the more he imagined them all over his body. Her lips were lush, pink, and full enough to launch an army into war for a single kiss.

Just then that mouth parted with shock. She stepped directly in front of him, her face becoming a comical etching of incredulity, awe and embarrassment. “I thought you understood that you absolutely must wear the sheet.” Even her voice appealed to him, sweet and husky. “You can’t just go around naked. You’ll be arrested for indecent exposure.”

Unconcerned, he crossed his arms over his chest. The woman seemed to think it was her right, nay, her duty, to snap retorts and issue orders. While he applauded her spirit, he certainly resented her lack of respect. He was a warrior first and foremost, and a warrior did not take orders. A warrior gave them. “I am still waiting to hear you utter the word please.”

She surprised him by shouting, “Just put on the damn sheet before I drop you on the ground again!”

He scowled. Best she learn now with whom she dealt! “You will ask me nicely, woman, and mayhap if I am feeling gracious, I will wear the damn sheet. If I am not feeling gracious, there is no power strong enough to force me to wear it.” ’Twas not the way to seduce a woman, he knew, but it was becoming more and more clear to him that this particular woman was in dire need of masculine guidance—his guidance—before the actual loving could begin.

Surely the males of her world would thank him.

She bared her teeth in a scowl of her own. “I will not ask nicely. You will simply bend down, pick up the sheet, and wrap it around your waist because it is the polite thing to do. You are, after all, standing inside my home.”

He ignored her. She stomped her foot. He almost laughed aloud, then, for who would have thought an inability to manage him would cause such a purely feminine reaction in one so warriorlike? “I hope you enjoy the view, katya, for you will be seeing it all night.”

Silence.

Then, “Nicely,” she ground out.

His lips twitched. What an amusing little imp she was. “With such a sweet concession, how could I refuse?” He retrieved the linen and, just to provoke her, secured it low on his hips—low enough to hint at what stirred underneath.

“Here, drink your strawberry soda and shut up.” Mutinous, she tossed him a container.

He easily caught it, though he never removed his gaze from her. He had won their contest of wills, and yet she still issued commands. How was one supposed to react to such a tyrannical disposition in a female? If Katie were a man, he knew exactly how he’d react: talon slicing downward to silence the offender. “If you speak to me that way again, little witch, I will personally silence you—with my tongue.”

She gasped.

He nodded, satisfied she’d been properly intimidated. He thought now she would act as she ought. Mayhap he should have known better.

“That’s the second threat you’ve made about your tongue,” she growled. “Just so you know, if you come near me with it, I’ll bite it off.”

Instead of reprimanding her yet again, Jorlan remained silent, deciding instead to pretend she hadn’t spoken. She was obviously confused and upset by his sudden appearance in her life, and knew not how to handle her emotions. But this was absolutely the last time he would allow her to speak to him so insolently without punishment.

That decided, he scrutinized every angle of his “soda” thoughtfully. The metal was a shiny alloy unfamiliar to him. Not knowing how to drink from it, he waved his hand in a circle above the container and uttered a spell. “Open now, this you will. Open now, and be unsealed.”

Bang.

Katie screamed and clasped a hand over her heart. Red liquid rained upon them like a summer storm. Several droplets clung to his face and neck, while others latched onto the hairs under his navel. Most of the liquid splattered atop Katie’s head, streaking her hair.

“Why did you do that?” she demanded, running a hand through the now reddish-blond locks.

“I was thirsty.” Using the linen’s hem, he tamped down his irritation and quickly wiped away the evidence of his spell gone awry. All of his life, magic had swirled within him. However, he should know better than to attempt any type of spell, for he’d learned at an early age that he held no control over the force of his power—a fact that bothered him greatly and sorely bruised his pride.

“Next time ask me to help you, okay? My heart can’t take another scare tonight.” Katie popped the top of her container and handed it to him. “Here. You can have mine. I’m not really thirsty, anyway.”

He set his decimated beverage aside and accepted what she offered. Tentatively he sipped. The delicious elixir moved down his throat, and he relished the taste. “’Tis worthy enough for a king’s table,” he said, awed. “What other culinary wonders does this cursed world possess?”

“Lots of things.” She hooked errant strands of hair behind her ear. “Chocolate. French fries. Cheesecake.”

Jorlan’s stomach rumbled. He knew nothing about the items she had named, yet each one sounded like ambrosia to his overly starved body. Their lovemaking could come after he’d eaten. “You will prepare each item for me.”

Her sandy-colored eyebrows drew together. “Is that so?”

“Aye. ’Tisso.” He nodded to assure her he meant what he said.

“Well, guess what? I promised to take you to a psychic tomorrow, nothing else.”

“I am hungry, woman.”

She rolled her eyes, something she did often in his presence. “I’m really not in the mood for whine this evening, thank you very much, so just stop. I’m not your personal chef and that’s the end of it.”

“Seeing to a man’s needs—all of his needs—is a woman’s only purpose in life.”

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“Nay. I would never jest about a woman’s duties.”

“I’m just sure you wouldn’t.” She lost her look of amused tolerance, looking instead like a determined woman on a mission: death to every male within sniffing distance. “Let me explain something to you, Jordie. You’re—”

“Jorlan.” He did not like it when she shortened his name and used that impertinent tone, making “Jordie” sound like something she would call a bothersome child.

She continued on as if he hadn’t spoken. “You’re out of luck, Jordie, because I don’t cook, and even if I did, there are no supplies here.”

“You will provide me with a weapon to hunt our food, or you will provide me with your world’s cuisine. Nothing else is acceptable.”

Arms akimbo, she dug her fists into her sides.

She had to relent, he assured himself, for he, a fierce Imperian warrior, had just issued a direct order.

“How did you survive as stone if you couldn’t eat?” she asked calmly.

“’Tis no concern of yours.”

“You want to eat?”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Magic sustained me.”

“Then cast another spell. I’m not cooking.”

How had he ever thought her antics amusing? “Since it is your hope to starve me,” he replied sharply, “at least take me to another domicile. Long have I been without the comforts of home, and you have nothing here save linens for us to slumber upon.”

“Us?” she sputtered. “There is no us when it comes to sleeping. I thought I made that clear.”

Would she contradict everything he said? “Where you sleep, so, too, will I.”

“You haven’t gained my permission to stay with me, much less share my bed.”

“Why would I be foolish enough to ask your permission? You might say no.” He was not a stupid man.

Her lips stretched tight. “I’ll let you stay in my home tonight because you have nowhere else to go, not because you decreed it. And for your information, this—” her arms swept about, indicating the chamber around her “—is where I work, not where I sleep. My house is a few miles away and very comfortable.”

“Then why are we still here? Let us be off.” Impatient now to arrive, he didn’t wait for her agreement, but simply headed for the door.

“I have rules, though,” Katie rushed on.

He stopped midstride, then slowly turned to face her. “Rules?” he said, his tone deceptively soft.

“Three rules I expect you to obey if you want to stay with me.” She held up one finger. “Rule number one: no telling me what to do. I’ve noticed you’re a give orders kind of guy. Well, I’m a take-your-orders-and-shove-them kind of girl. That isn’t productive. Therefore, while staying with me, you obey me. And that’s not negotiable.”

As she spoke, Jorlan slowly unfolded the multicolored cloth at his waist. His nakedness had disconcerted her earlier, and he knew it would do so now. He wanted no talk of rules and regulations unless he was the one issuing them.

Katie’s mouth formed a small O, but far from silencing her, his action seemed to propel her onward. “Two,” she said. “No touching me without my permission.”

That one he liked even less than the first. “And the third?”

Another finger. “From now until I’m rid of you, you will always, always wear clothes.”

Jorlan crossed his arms over his chest. He actually preferred wearing his garments. When not coupling, of course. But the little witch sought to place him under her control, and that he did not like. The warrior in him rebelled, for not even the Great-Lord had dictated his actions to such a degree.

Yet how did one deal with such a brazen female?

The answer came to him in a flash; he almost smirked.

“Well?” Her hands anchored to her hips.

“I agree to your terms, katya.”

A genuine smile of relief lifted the corners of her lips, a smile that softened her expression and lit her features with radiance. The effect was devastating, and his breath hitched in his lungs. No woman had a right to possess such a grin. He resisted this newly discovered allure, vowing to remain impenetrably guarded against that captivating smile.

“That was easier than I expected,” she said, still smiling.

“I agree to your terms,” he added as if she hadn’t spoken, “with a few minor adjustments.”

That wiped the grin from her face, and he was once again able to breathe. “You have nothing to bargain with, Jorlan.”

He arched a brow. “Do I not?”

“If you’re planning to use your magic—”

“No magic, I promise you.”

“Well, then, you’re screwed, because I’m not changing the rules.” Her satisfaction rang loud and clear.

Pretending to mull over his next words, he stroked his jaw. “We must journey to your dwelling this night, must we not?” He didn’t give her time to respond. “I can do that clothed…or I can do that naked.”

She gasped. “Now wait just a damn minute. I can leave you here by yourself, you know.”

“If you think to leave without me, you will find yourself over my knee getting the spanking you so rightly deserve.”

“If you think to spank me, you’ll find yourself getting the beating you so rightly deserve!”

“You will listen to my adjustments or I will break every one of your rules. Beginning now.” With purposeful strides, he closed the distance between them.

“I agree,” she blurted out, her hands raised to ward him off. “I agree.”

He stopped only a heartbeat away. “Number one: I will give you no unreasonable demands, as long as you do the same for me.”

The tension in her shoulders relaxed a little. “That’s fair enough.”

“Number two: I will touch you only if you touch me first.” Now enjoying himself, he propped his arm against the wall beside him. “Or mayhap I will wait until you ask me, very sweetly, to put my hands on you.”

At first she looked as if she might snort. But then, her gaze raked over him, and her cheeks reddened. “I’ll maintain my distance,” she said, averting her eyes, “because there’s no way in hell I’m asking you to touch me.”

“You did before. In the garden.”

“That was different.” Her cheeks burned all the brighter. When he made no comment, she burst out, “It was different. The stone appealed to me. You do not.”

“Say no more, little witch. I would not have you regret more words than you already shall.”

She leveled a glare at him, but didn’t deny his claim.

He pushed his advantage. “Number three: I will wear clothing when the situation warrants it, and only then.”

Silence.

Stubborn woman. “These are the adjustments I wish. If they are not acceptable…” His voice trailed off, allowing her to assume whatever she would.

A sigh pushed past her lips with enough force to cast a sweet ripple of air upon his cheeks. “I accept them, okay. Are you happy now?”

“Not nearly as happy as I would like to be.” He reached out, intending to brush a fingertip across her cheek. Then he recalled her rule and his own stipulation. Unless she asked, he could not touch her. With a muttered curse, he dropped his hand to his side.

She grabbed the sheet and shoved it toward him. “This situation warrants clothing. Since you know nothing of my planet’s customs, you’ll just have to take my word on that.”

Frowning, he once again covered his lower body with the linen.

“Thank God we only have to put up with each other until tomorrow morning,” she muttered. “I might die from stress otherwise.”

More amused than irritated, he said, “Are you usually this surly with your guests?”

She swatted at the air with her hand once, twice. “I am not surly.”

“Aye, you are, and argumentative, too. But mayhap by tomorrow’s dawning you will be too sated to bicker with me.”

Her jaw clamped together with so much force he feared the bone would snap. But with a visible effort, she managed to relax. “Let’s go home,” she said. “I’m too tired to deal with you anymore tonight.” With that, she turned on her heel and headed toward the door.

“If I break one of your rules,” he called behind her, “I will allow you to give me a severe tongue lashing all over my body.”

She nearly choked on that one, and it required all of his strength to smother his laughter. Ah, life had never seemed so ripe with promised pleasures. For now, he was free from de Locke’s curse. In a matter of hours, he would lose himself between a woman’s soft thighs. And he would return home on the morrow. What more could a man possibly want?

CHAPTER FOUR

I’M IN SOOOOOO MUCH TROUBLE, Katie thought.

She eased into her truck, but she didn’t start the ignition; she just sat there, clutching the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles turned white. Jorlan climbed inside and perched beside her in the passenger seat, oblivious to the riotous sensations dancing through her. Lick him all over? The idea held more appeal than swimming in a giant vat of melted Hershey’s Kisses, yet also went against every ounce of common sense she possessed. Contrary to what Jorlan might think, hopelessly chauvinistic men did not heat her blood in a good way.

Well, not usually.

His “you will do this” and “you will do that” did irritate her to no end, but that irritation failed to obliterate her attraction to him. He was just so wickedly masculine, so unabashedly male. He knew his appeal and wielded an entire seductive arsenal, which he didn’t hesitate to use to his advantage.

With his words, his glances, and his soft touches, he’d made his plans to have her quite clear. So many times during their interaction, she’d wavered, wondering if she should just give in or continue to resist. And if she did resist, was she simply postponing the inevitable?

Intuition told her this man could not only give her the wildest night of her life, he could also cure her of First Date Syndrome. He didn’t walk bowlegged or speak with a nasally tone. No, he strode with the gait of a hunter, strong and assured. His husky voice produced shivers of delight, not shivers of revulsion. She hadn’t seen him eat, but she doubted he ate his peas one at a time. He just didn’t have the patience to be a nibbler.

He wasn’t patient, period.

Yet, that didn’t turn her off as it should have.

“How do you force this vehicle into motion?” At her side, Jorlan opened the car door, but he didn’t get out. He simply closed the door again, then opened and closed it, the hinges squeaking with each movement.

“Keep trying it that way,” she muttered, still lost in thought.

When one overlooked his impatience, his chauvinistic demeanor and his penchant for disobeying, Jorlan was nearly perfect. And he did excite her in a way she’d never experienced before.

So what if she did it? What if she took the pleasure he was offering?

One simple brush of his body against hers had almost caused her to experience her very first orgasm. No telling what full-body, skin-to-skin, plunging-deep-inside contact would do to her. Kill her, most likely, but what a way to die! However, despite his I-can-give-you-a-mind-numbing-climax sexual magnetism, he truly annoyed the hell out of her. In attitude, he was too much like her brothers. Katie’s brows drew together. Okay, so had she just talked herself into sleeping with him? Or had she talked herself out of it?

Time to regroup. Pros: 1. She had desired him, both stone and flesh, for the past three weeks. 2. He could whip her body into a pleasure soufflé. 3. He was leaving the next morning.

Cons: 1. He was leaving the next morning. 2. His arrogance grated on her very last nerve. 3. She would be nothing more than a momentary convenience to him—a necessary burden, at that.

Did she truly want to be a momentary convenience for her first time?

No.

She wanted hearts and candy, flowers and music. She wanted words of praise and acceptance, maybe even a whispered, “I simply have to have you. I can’t live without you. If I don’t touch you soon I’ll die. Please. I’m begging you.”

Okay, maybe that was a little extreme. But she knew, knew she wanted more than Jorlan would give her.

So the cons won. The man beside her, with his lose-yourself-in-me eyes and his to-die-for muscles, would be nothing more than a boarder. A nonpaying boarder, at that.

“Shut the door and buckle up,” she told him with more force than she’d intended. “We’re going to move now.”

His expression clouded with confusion, as well as a bit of indignation, and he closed the passenger door with a final snap. “On Imperia, we travel atop horned stags very similar to your horses. This is my first time inside the belly of your enchanted transportation, so I know not of what you speak. Buckle up?”

She demonstrated what needed to be done.

He followed her example. A moment passed. He tried to scoot left and right, yet the belt hindered each motion. Frowning, he ripped himself free. “I will not trap myself inside your transportation.”

Here we go again. Katie swallowed a sigh and geared herself for another argument. Lord knew if she demanded that he duck in order to protect himself from a bullet, he would only say, “A woman takes orders, katya, she doesn’t give them,” and then promptly be blown away by gunshot.

“The seat belt is there for your protection,” she explained. She fluttered her lashes the exact way that made her brothers crumble. Jorlan didn’t even blink. “If I come to an abrupt stop and you aren’t wearing it, you’ll fly into the windshield, crack your head and die.” A little extreme, she knew, but she could think of no other way to make him listen.

His frown deepened, but at least he rebuckled.

Once they were properly situated, she started the truck and eased onto the road. Warm gusts of wind whipped through the open window, laving her face, lifting her hair. A horn blasted. Startled, she scanned what little traffic occupied the highway and discovered the honk had not been for her, but for a male driver who was swerving from one side of the road to the other. Accelerating, she quickly passed him.

The faster she drove, the more Jorlan relaxed his stiff posture. “’Tis exhilarating, this speed.” His chuckle wafted to her ears, warm, husky and, oh, so inviting.

This man annoys me, she reminded herself.

They lapsed into silence. Unfortunately, that silence worked against her. Instead of concentrating on the oncoming traffic and construction cones that lined the median, her thoughts drifted to Jorlan’s circumstances. Her insatiable curiosity soon overrode her good intentions. “How long were you imprisoned in the stone?”

“Nine hundred spans, seventy-two days and twenty-four minutes.” He spoke so quickly, so assuredly, as if he’d never stopped counting.

“A span is a…”

“Year. A span is a year.”

“That means you’re over nine hundred years old.” The truck swerved as she jerked to face him. He’d mentioned that several centuries had passed, but she hadn’t given it any thought until now. “Surely you don’t expect me to believe that. Most people never reach the age of one hundred, and those who do absolutely do not look like you. A thousand-year-old man would be buying Depends, drinking Ensure and worrying about osteoporosis.”

He regarded her strangely. “Most of what you said escapes me, katya, yet will I strive to reply. Once the curse was spoken into existence, I stopped aging.”

“But you’ll age now, though. Right?”

“I will not age at the rate of your world, nay. I am part sorcerer, and sorcerers are eternal beings sustained by magic. Immortal. Aye, we can be killed with physical weapons as any flesh-and-blood creature, but if unharmed, our magic will keep us alive for eternity.”

“But that’s imposs—” She clamped her lips shut. On top of everything else she’d witnessed and heard tonight, what was so unfeasible about a thousand-yearold alien who resembled a Calvin Klein underwear model and would live forever?

“Oftentimes, the myths and legends of one world are the facts of another. Over the spans,” he said, “many people came into the garden at twilight, whispering of vampires and werewolves, creatures who do not age. Is it so unfathomable, then, that like these creatures, sorcerers can live forever?”

Unfathomable? No. Not anymore. Frightening? God, yes. “I believe you, Jorlan. I do. I was just taken by surprise, that’s all.” She paused as a thought occurred to her. “You said you’re only part sorcerer. How long will you live?”

The corner of his eye twitched. “That does not concern you.”

“I can easily drive you back to the garden, you know. In fact, I’m turning around right now.” She jerked the steering wheel to the left, just to make a point.

“Because you’re so obviously fascinated with the workings of my world,” he said, his tone stilted, “I will answer this one last question. I am the first and only halfling born between a mortal and a sorceress. My path is uncharted. Mayhap I will live half of forever. Mayhap not.” He paused. “Now you answer a question for me.”

“Okay.”

“What think you of love?”

She blinked at such an odd change of subject. “I’m not sure I understand what you’re asking. Do you want to know what I think about a man and woman falling in love with each other?”

“Aye.”

“Well, I think it’s great.” Her brows knit together. “Why?”

Instead of answering her, he turned and faced the window with a satisfied smile. Though slight, the movement caused his sheet to part, revealing a portion of his left thigh. Katie’s chin snapped forward. Watch the road, she commanded herself. But her gaze repeatedly returned to Jorlan, and every time she glimpsed him, her mouth watered for a nibble of that golden thigh. He’s not a bucket of chicken.

He shifted in his seat, exposing more…more…please God…oh yes! The sheet was completely split down the middle, revealing the entire length of his leg.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked suddenly. “Your face is flushed and your eyes look hungry. Starved, actually.”

Katie’s cheeks reddened, and she jerked her attention to where it belonged. “I’m not going to bed with you, okay?” Oh my Lord, she thought the second the words escaped her mouth. She might as well have asked him if he wanted to finger paint her naked body with caramel-and-chocolate ice cream and lick it off.

A knowing, masculine chuckle filled the small cab.

Thankfully, he didn’t reply and the rest of the ride passed in silence, a silence she was now grateful for.

At home, she found Jorlan a Dallas PD T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants Gray had left behind. While Gray had always looked relaxed and cozy in the clothing, like a man spending a lazy day at home on the couch, watching TV and eating Twinkies, Jorlan looked eatable. His rock-solid build stretched the material and showcased every inch of his brawn. Had any other man ever looked so indecent in sweatpants?

Note to self: Write Hanes a very stern letter about what’s appropriate in leisure wear.

P.S. Never invite Gray over again. His clothes are obscene.

Katie ambled into the living room, her newly clothed alien not far behind her. His gaze scalded her back, causing heat to percolate just underneath her skin. She stopped, whipped around, ready to demand he glance away. She froze instead. By the sparkle in his eyes, she knew he was planning something naughty—like removing her clothing piece by piece. Far from angering her, the thought made her heart leap with anticipation. Damn him! The man was too appealing for his own good, and at the moment he was standing way too close for her peace of mind.

She needed space and some sort of brain enema.

She stepped away.

He followed. Their gazes were locked and the space between them crackled with awareness. “If you ask, I will massage my hands in your hair, katya, and set each strand free from confinement.”

Unable to help herself, she gazed at the hands in question. They were blunt, hard hands, clean yet well-worked. The hands of a warrior. Yet, she thought, under the right circumstances, they were probably capable of extreme gentleness and unending tenderness—a massage being one of those circumstances.

Before he could sense her growing willingness, however, she planted her hands on her hips and strove for a flippant tone. “The day I ask you to touch my hair is the day I cook you a seven-course meal.” Which meant it would never happen. She wasn’t his slave, and besides that, she hated, hated to cook.

But never was such a strong word. She probably wouldn’t cook him a meal. No, that didn’t work either. She might not cook him a meal. Damn, damn, damn. If only the sexual tension between them didn’t generate enough electricity to light the entire state of Texas.

Jorlan inclined his head. A dark eyebrow arched and his expression was amused, as if he’d somehow listened to her internal deliberation. The corners of his mouth rose in that knowing grin she was beginning to despise. “Now I will not just make you ask for my touch, katya. I will make you beg for it. Over and over again.”

His raspy tone suggested he possessed a sexual knowledge that went beyond the Kama Sutra. When most men spoke, their voice rated no higher than an Encyclopedia Britannica on her Knee Weakening Radar. But Jorlan’s sensuality blared like a cataclysmic force of nature, and he definitely tipped the scales.

The crux of Katie’s problem was that she didn’t have much experience in dealing with such a sex-minded, eager man. Such blatant, in-your-face masculinity had certainly never been present in any of the men she’d dated. Plus, her intimidating height and take-charge attitude kept most advances at bay.

Most of all, she just didn’t possess the soft, angelic beauty that inspired ardor. She knew it. Everyone else knew it, but that didn’t seem to bother Jorlan. And maybe that was why he affected her so strongly. Why every moment she spent with him caused her fortitude to wilt a bit more. He was the first man ever to look at her as if she were a succulent morsel to be devoured in one tasty bite.

What if she was never able to find this type of chemistry again? Never find a man who made her feel like a woman, a woman with needs and desires? If she didn’t grab onto Jorlan while she had the chance—

Wait! Good God, what was she thinking? He wasn’t even touching her and already she was about to beg for his embrace. She needed to douse the budding fire within them both before the flames spread and became unstoppable.

Time to begin “Spending the Night with Katie Orientation.”

She motioned for him to sit on the couch. He shook his head no.

Why am I surprised? “Would you please sit down?”

He did, grinning all the while.

“Now,” she began. “I believe I’ve already mentioned this in the rules, but it bears mentioning again. Except while bathing, you must remain dressed, both inside and outside of this house. Otherwise you will be arrested and thrown in jail for indecent exposure.” Or magnificent exposure if the arresting officer was female.

“After you broke the spell, I was not taken prisoner while I stood unclothed in the garden,” he pointed out. “And I think you know that bathing is not the only time clothes are a hindrance. What about a long bout of pummeling?”

“As you won’t be getting pummeled in this house, I feel no responsibility to respond to that statement.”

He crossed his arms and gave her an amused look. “Your denials grow tiresome.”

His self-assured pitch irked her, so she placed her hands on her hips and glared at him. “Did you ever consider the fact that I could have a boyfriend? Someone I’m in love with and committed to?”

One minute blended into two, and still he didn’t answer her. She knew he’d heard every word she had spoken, though, because she’d shouted them so loudly her neighbor’s dog was barking. “Well? Did you?”

Something dark, intense and desperate kindled in his eyes, but was quickly masked with indifference. His voice was anything but indifferent, however, when he said, “If you have a man, you should not have touched me as you did. You should not have kissed me.”

Her gaze skittered guiltily away, and she noticed the light on her answering machine was flashing.

“So do you? Do you have a man?” Now his tone was as pleasant as if he’d asked, “This jelly doughnut is delicious, would you like a bite?”

Her motions clipped, she hooked a lock of escaped hair behind her ear. For some reason, she just couldn’t lie to him about this. “No, I don’t have a man.” Her tone was as incensed as if she’d said, “You ate my doughnut, you dirty bastard.”

“I see no problem, then.” This time he spoke with a husky drawl any true-blooded Texan would have been proud of. “You desire me, and I desire you. We can give each other pleasure…and mayhap even love.”

Love? She sucked in a breath. “You don’t even know me.” She paused as a thought occurred to her. “Oh my God, you’re one of those losers who tells a woman he loves her simply to get her into bed.”

“I have said nothing of loving you, katya.” His features pulled tight, revealing just how much she’d offended him. “Sometimes honor is all a man has, and I would never dishonor myself by lying about my emotions. I wished only to inform you that I would not be adverse if you offered me your heart.”

And that was just so much better, she thought dryly. “You’re a romantic at heart, Jordie. You truly are. And now I’m done with this conversation.” Katie strode to her coffee table and jabbed the play button on her answering machine.

“Hey, sis. I’m going out of town for a few days and wanted to know if I could borrow your—”

Her brother’s voice jammed to a halt when Jorlan leapt across the room and pounded the little black box into a thousand tiny pieces.

“Joorlann,” she drew out. “Why did you do that?”

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

“Voice recording isn’t magical.”

He made no reply, no body movement to indicate that he’d heard her.

“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 can give the enemy an opportunity to attack.”

“My answering machine is not your enemy!”

“Not anymore,” he answered smugly.

“Damn it, Jorlan. You can’t just destroy my things. You have to—damn it,” she said again. “You made me cuss.” Katie reached inside her pocket and handed him two quarters. At his questioning eyebrow lift, she explained her quest to speak more like a lady.

He chuckled. “You owe me more than this.” He pinched the change between his fingers and held it up for inspection. “Since the moment you first kissed me, your many expletives have nigh singed my ears.”

Do not think about kissing him. Do not think about kissing him. “Anything I said in the garden doesn’t count. I was in the middle of a crisis situation.”

“Crisis situation or no, I still recall your words to me, just before you wrapped your palm around my—”

“That’s enough.” He wasn’t speaking of curses now; he was speaking about her midnight confession. Damn it, you’ve invaded my fantasies, is what she believed she’d said. “I’m sure you misheard. And for your information, touching your…Well, it was an accident.” Before he could add anything else, she said, “Look how late it’s gotten.” Katie pretended to study her wristwatch, only to realize she wasn’t wearing a watch. “Are you ready for bed?” Wrong question.

“I have been ready for some time.” His gaze raked over her with enough heat to incinerate her. “I am still ready.”

Yes, you are, she thought with a sigh. But this situation called for direct negation, not you-have-a-beautiful-body-and-I-could-lick-you-all-over remembrances. Before she could make a caustic remark, Jorlan spoke again.

“I would like to bathe ere I…sleep.” He hesitated over the word “sleep” long enough to make her anticipate “make love to you.”

Gulping, Katie led Jorlan to the bathroom and showed him how to work the knobs. “Place a small drop of shampoo into your hand and lather the bubbles through your hair. If you get it into your eyes…” Her voice tapered to a close, for as she spoke Jorlan gripped the hem of his shirt and pulled the material over his head. “Uh, don’t get any suds in your eyes or they’ll burn so badly you’ll want me to pluck them out. And I might just accommodate you.”

The shirt whooshed to the floor.

She’d seen his chest before—and a whole lot more—but that didn’t seem to matter. Each time she saw his beautifully tanned skin, she had the same reaction. Heat. Fiery heat that erupted into flames. Self-preservation kicked into gear this time and kept her hormones under control.

I have to stop reacting to him like this.

“I would willingly place these suds in my eyes,” he said low and honeyed, “if I knew you would kiss away the pain.”

“And I will forcefully put suds in your eyes if you don’t stop that.”

His chuckle swam over her like a caress, soft and wonderfully erotic. “This I might allow did you press your body against me to do it.”

She ignored that comment, as well as the fluttering in her stomach. “When you’re finished, turn the water off and put your sweats back on. And if you didn’t understand that, let me put it another way. Do not leave this bathroom without getting redressed.” All the basics covered, she raced to the door.

“You do not have my permission to leave.” With the stealth of a trained military man, he moved in front of her, halting her just before escape.

Her back went ramrod-straight. “I don’t need your permission for anything.”

“You are a woman,” he explained.

“You’re very observant, aren’t you?”

He sighed. “You must wash my back.”

“Wash your own back.” Katie inched forward another step. Another. And another. Almost there. If he would just move out of the way…

“As it is clear to me that you do not understand, I will explain another way. My muscles are still stiff from my confinement and require the gentle touch of a female.”

“I’m not touching your back for any reason because I know you’ll consider that part of your rule adjustment. I’ll find myself naked and in the tub with you.”

His long, spiky lashes swept down in a slow, alluring appraisal. “Would that be so bad?”

“Yes!”

He leaned against the door frame and smiled. “I can promise you that you will enjoy every moment.”

“I’m sure you can, but I’m still not interested.” She pushed past him and closed the door firmly behind her. Alone in the hall, she tried not to imagine all that glorious skin covered with glistening soap bubbles.

She failed.

He emerged half an hour later on a cloud of steam. A clean and fresh floral scent enveloped him. Fortunately, he was wearing his pants. Unfortunately, he was not wearing his shirt, and he was, without a doubt, one hundred percent pure Imperian beef. Droplets of water trickled from his hair and down his rippled chest, pooling in his navel. Her mouth went dry, and she wanted so desperately to lick the moisture from his skin.

Lord, when had she become such a sexual creature?

“All of your ‘shampoo’ was scented for a woman,” he accused.

And for seduction, she silently added, “Are you still hungry?” The words emerged as a croak.

He perked up. “You will feed me?”

“Sure. Why not?” They adjourned to the kitchen, and Katie used that time to cool her mounting desire. All the while doing subtle, deep breathing exercises, she gathered the necessary items for a turkey sandwich. She knew how to cook, very nicely, too. But she hadn’t actually baked a meal since leaving her father’s 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.

“I’m not your personal chef,” she told Jorlan, “so pay attention. Next time, you’re on your own. Are you watching?” Before he could answer, she began, working as she spoke. “Bread. Mayonnaise. Cheese. Turkey. Lettuce. Tomato. Bread. Got it?”

He nodded, and she handed him the sandwich. He ate the blasted thing as if he had never tasted anything so delicious in all his life. Definitely not a nibbler. In fact, he somehow made the simple act of chewing a passionate feat. His strong jaw moved quickly. Potent and intense.

Damn it! She needed to find something about him that turned her off. First Date Syndrome was preferable to Obsession Disease.

Jorlan fixed himself three more sandwiches.

“What are the houses in your world like?” she asked, sitting beside him.

He spoke in between bites, his eyes warm with remembrances. “They are much bigger than those offered here. The stones are more colorful, the chambers open and easily accessible. At times, it seems the sky dusts the floor.” He drained half a carton of milk, then leaned back in his chair with a satisfied grunt.

“Sounds beautiful.”

“’Tis indeed.”

“Come on. I’ll show you where you’ll be sleeping. Alone.”

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

“Something needs to,” she muttered.

Walking through the hall, a sweet vanilla scent drifted to her nostrils. That was the only thing she liked about the place. The smell. Decorated with a contemporary slant, the interior was too bold, too modern, and lacked character. Instead of wood, the walls were trimmed with silver metal. Instead of carpet or paneling, the floors were covered with mosaic tile. Ceramic animal paws showcased all the light fixtures. She would have preferred a chandelier lit by hundreds of crystal prisms.

Katie knew she’d bought this home for all the wrong reasons. Her dad, who would have a fit if he knew a strange alien male was staying the night with her, believed only men could earn a living as home renovators—or anything else, for that matter. She’d wanted to prove to him that she, a woman, was a success at her business.

To this day, he refused to believe she earned her money on her own and hadn’t borrowed from her brothers.

Ryan James had been raised by the “old school” of thought. Men worked and earned money while women baked cookies, raised the kids and devoted their entire lives to pleasing their husbands. (Much like Jorlan’s perceptions.) Maybe that was why, sixteen years after becoming a widower, her dad still had yet to remarry. No sane woman would take him. He barked orders like a drill sergeant and expected total compliance from those around him.

As a child, that type of ideology could have easily crushed her spirit. Yet her brothers had sought to protect her from their father’s low expectations. They’d made her one of the boys, helped her don jeans and tennis shoes instead of lace and bows. She’d trailed their every step. She’d helped them catch frogs, stood by their sides and fished in a nearby pond, and held her own as they wrestled in the mud.

She and Jorlan reached the guest bedroom. “This is it,” she said, flipping the light switch. The room instantly brightened. “The bathroom, or chamber pot, or whatever you call it, is through the side door. It’s nothing as grand as what you described, but it’s comfortable and private.”

Entranced by the origin of light, Jorlan barely registered her words. With the tip of his finger, he lowered the silver switch. Darkness flooded the small area. When he raised the switch, light once again sprang from the overhead source.

“Again I sense no magic, and yet…” Up, down, up, down he continued to move the switch. “I would not have guessed your world capable of such things. First a talking box and now instant lighting.”

Katie chuckled, charmed by his bedazzlement with technology. “What does your world use for light?”

“Lamori gems.”

“Are they magic?”

“Nay, they are alive.”

She did not even want to contemplate living stones.

“Even on Imperia, a world of highly developed mystical abilities, no one has yet mastered magical lighting.”

“We haven’t either. We rely on electricity.”

“I am unfamiliar with this word.” He flipped the light switch several more times.

How best to explain…“Electricity is a fundamental entity of nature consisting of negative and positive kinds composed respectively of electrons and protons.” She spouted Webster’s definition with ease. “This is observable in the attraction and repulsion of bodies electrified by friction and in natural phenomena.” Wires and power circuits were part of her business, after all, and God knows how many classes she’d taken on the subject.

On and off the light went.

“Does the room meet with your approval?”

“It will suffice. For now.” Jorlan released the little switch and surveyed his new chamber. The room offered ample space, but better yet, it provided the most important item in a man’s life beside his talon, his horri and his food. A bed—a bed Katie did not plan on making use of in the way Elliea had intended, he thought dryly, but a bed all the same.

“What do you mean ‘for now’?” she demanded.

He hid his amusement behind a bland expression. He had expected such a reply from this woman who continued to refuse all pleasures; he simply had not expected the reply delivered with such force. What a little vixen she continued to be, commanding and impudent.

Puzzling, too.

Since reaching his fourteenth season, women of every age, size and color had flocked to his bed, ready and willing to please him. Almost all had offered him their love, something he had humbly accepted without actually giving any of himself. Nay, he realized, that was a falsehood. He’d given Maylyn everything he had to give, including his heart. He’d been entranced with her dark, mesmerizing beauty, her willingness to please. Only later had he learned that she felt nothing for him in return, that she had merely done his brother’s bidding.

Still, Jorlan had always understood what drove Maylyn. Katie, he did not. Why did she grow more and more skittish each time he drew near? Too many possibilities sprang to mind.

A former unpleasant lover?

Misplaced modesty?

A need for commitment?

Which of these applied to Katie? All? None? If he knew, he could figure out how best to approach her. As it was, he was making no progress, and his body’s desire for contact, any feminine contact, was growing by the second, growing intense and all-consuming. All of his long repressed needs, needs that had nothing to do with at last breaking the curse, were hammering through him.

The smart thing to do would be to satisfy his body’s demands on his own, then pursue Katie. Mayhap he should even cease all talk of bed sport and concentrate this night on winning her friendship. He could always drown himself in a bevy of available female bodies once he returned to Imperia, a place where women were accommodating and willing to give of themselves without qualm. Willing to strip him naked and take him into their mouths and bodies while their own pleasure mounted.

His gaze slid down the length of Katie’s curves. In the chamber’s glorious light, her creamy skin glowed with health and vitality. Her shoulders sloped with captivating elegance, and her hips swelled with tempting allure. Nay, he decided. The way to win her was to pleasure her as he’d originally planned. Besides, he did not want to experience his release alone. He did not want to wait until reaching Imperia to have a woman. Right now, he wanted this woman, from this world. This night. Having all of Katie’s warriorlike passion at his disposal would nigh burn him alive, and he longed to burn. Burn, burn, burn.

Mayhap he could convince her to sleep beside him, for no female could resist the silent, seductive presence of a man during twilight. He grinned with anticipation. Just how would Katie respond to an accidental touch, a caress of warm breath, or a whisper of erotic promises?

She must have sensed the direction of his thoughts because she blurted out, “I have another rule!”

His hands tightened into fists. These rules were going to be the death of him. “You cannot add rules at your convenience, woman.”

“I can and I will. I’m in charge here.”

“That is debatable.”

“No, it isn’t.”

She glared up at him.

He glared in return. “I have decided to hear this new rule. You may speak.”

Katie absolutely did not like him when he used that I-am-male-therefore-I-decide-the-fate-of-the-world tone. She obeyed anyway and spoke. “Rule number four: no sharing beds.”

Surprisingly, he didn’t balk. Instead, he crossed his arms over his bronzed chest and said, “My adjustment to this rule is simple. I will not share your bed, but I will slumber in your room. And if this is not agreeable, I will simply knock down your door and share your bed without your permission.”

Argh! Far from being frightened by his threat, or even intimidated, Katie was infuriated—and just a bit aroused. “I’m not comfortable sharing a room with you.”

“Nevertheless, you will.” He arched a dark brow in challenge. “Or are you afraid of your reactions to me?”

Her eyes narrowed to tiny slits, and she stared at him, unflinching. “I’m not afraid of anything.”

“Then why not allow me inside your chamber?”

“Because I don’t trust you to stay on the floor!”

His shoulders puffed with indignation. “I have given you my word.”

“Well, I want a blood oath.”

Scowling, he ground out, “I vow to you here and now that I will not join you under the bedcovers this night. That does not mean you cannot join me on the floor.”

Why did he have to go and put such an idea into her head? She pointed a finger at his chest. “Do you swear by all that is holy that you won’t try anything?”

His nostrils flared, but his tone was quiet. Too quiet. “This I have already answered.”

No, he hadn’t. Not really. He’d promised only to stay on the floor. An image of his glorious body splayed out on her bedroom carpet filled her mind. Would she feel his heat? Hear the soft whoosh of his breath? Smell the clean scent of his skin?

She had lied to him a moment ago. She was afraid of her reactions to him. Very afraid. But despite her fear, she was going to let him stay in her room. Lord, she was. She was going to let him stay in her room.

Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, her brother Erik always said. Jorlan might not be her enemy, but he was damn sure on his way up her hit list. The man wouldn’t climb into her bed, but he’d issued a brilliantly orchestrated invitation: Join me.

If he thought for one minute she was giving in to that invitation, he’d soon find out that his erection was the last thing on her mind. Well, almost the last. Okay, she couldn’t stop thinking about the damn thing. It was huge.

I’m an idiot, she thought. “Just in case you get any ideas, know that I’ll be sleeping with a can of Mace in one hand and pepper spray in the other.”

His expression turned mocking. “Just in case you get any ideas, know that I’ll be sleeping with a feather in one hand and massage oil in the other.”

With those words ringing in her ears, Katie knew she wasn’t going to get much sleep. She massaged her temples in a vain effort to ward off the oncoming ache.

I’m in more trouble than I realized.

CHAPTER FIVE

“I’M IMAGINING EVERYTHING I long to do to you, katya. Are you imagining what you long to do to me?”

Oh, yes. Yes, she most definitely was imagining.

“In my mind I see my hands cupping your breasts and gently squeezing while my tongue lightly traces a path from one waiting nipple to the other.”

As it had for the past hour, Jorlan’s husky voice slid like a rasp of silk, low, sleek and honeyed, touching Katie in the darkness, leaving a sultry haven in its wake. Toasty warm, she lay in bed, a thick, downy comforter covering her. But it was the man sprawled on her floor that was responsible for her overheated blood, not her covers.

Katie tried to recall why she was so determined to resist him. She did have reasons, right? She just didn’t know anymore, and she wasn’t sure how much more she could take before she locked caution inside her panty drawer and caved. Jorlan’s passionate assault, which had begun long before he’d ever spoken to her, was quickly eradicating all of her defenses.

“Would you like to feel the heat of my tongue?”

To keep herself from blurting out YES!, she pursed her lips together so tightly she probably incurred permanent wrinkles. Why had she let Jorlan inside her room, anyway? And why for the love of God was she still in bed and not on the floor with him?

“Your back arches, a silent plea for my touch between your legs,” he continued mercilessly. “But I do not touch you there with my fingers. Nay, I kiss my way down your stomach and taste you with my mouth, letting my tongue flick left and right, then circle around, creating a hot, wet friction.”

“You promised you wouldn’t try anything!”

“I never promised I wouldn’t speak or imagine. And what I’m imagining right now is so very naughty. You’re lying—”

Dropping her can of Mace and pepper spray onto the mattress—which, in actuality, were a can of hairspray and a water bottle—she placed her palms over her ears, muffling his voice. She began snoring like an old man with a foghorn stuck in his throat. All the while she pictured bathroom tile and drying grout—anything to keep her mind from thinking about naked bodies and potent pleasures.

You never give me what I want, her body complained, and I want Jorlan.

Shut up, her mind demanded. You’ve gotten us in enough trouble!

Tile. Grout. Tile. Grout. With Jorlan’s voice blocked and her mind picturing drying tile grout, slowly, so slowly, her overly sensitized nerves calmed. The tingles of anticipation faded. When she felt enough time had lapsed, she let her snores taper off and removed her hands from her ears.

Blessed silence greeted her.

Then, as if he was acutely attuned to her every action, every feeling, every thought, Jorlan said, “Just say the words, katya. Say the words and I will give us both release.”

“I’ll say the words, all right.” Her nails dug deeply into the sides of her legs, leaving half moon crescents. “I’ll say shut up or get out. Please! We have to get up early, and it’s two in the morning already. After I take you to the psychic, I have to go to work. I need to rest.”

Five. Ten. Fifteen minutes passed. He didn’t speak again. She didn’t even hear him breathe.

In the mounting silence, Katie’s eyelids began to grow heavy. She gripped her hairspray once again, ready to leap off the bed and whack him over the head with it if he so much as whistled through his nose. After a while, her grip relaxed, and she rolled to her side. The last thought to drift through her mind before she ultimately succumbed to darkness was That man needs a muzzle, and I need a bare-assed spanking for letting him in here.

MORNING DAWNED bright and early. “Way too early,” Katie muttered. Then she groaned. Her eyes burned, and her head throbbed. She needed a protein shake or she would soon sink into a take-me-to-the-hospital-for-a-caffeine-IV coma.

Normally she jogged five miles a morning. Today, however, she was going to make an exception. At the moment, she couldn’t have jogged to the bathroom if her bladder depended on it.

The sheets and blankets were tangled around her like a butterfly’s cocoon. She grumbled under her breath as she battled her way free. Something thudded to the floor, but it wasn’t a protein shake, so she didn’t bend down to retrieve it. Rubbing her eyes, she stumbled into the bathroom.

She washed her face then brushed her teeth and hair. The features that looked at her from the mirror were glazed with…something. Tired. Very tired. Hoping hot, steamy water would help, she climbed into the shower. When she emerged, she tugged on her robe, feeling less groggy, but still craving a sweet fruity shake. Once her veins ran with enough B-12 to energize the retirees at Shady Meadows, she would be alert enough to deal with Jorlan.

Jorlan!

Katie’s eyes widened with dismay. How could she have forgotten about the sexy, six-foot-six-inch alien sleeping in her room? Heart pounding, white terry-cloth robe flying, she darted out of the bathroom; her gaze scanned the floor, but she saw only a can of hairspray.

Jorlan was gone.

The only reminder of his presence was the rumpled pillow and blanket tangled together in a heap at the foot of her bed. She grabbed some clothes from the closet and hastily pulled them on as she raced out of the room. She’d barely managed to zip her jeans when she stepped into the living room. No sign of her alien.

What if the mother ship had beamed him up? Worse, what if he was still here, in her house, going through her things? Katie’s stomach knotted as she envisioned laundry strewn across the floor and broken knickknacks scattered about. Through the dining room she went, as if hot coals simmered under her feet.

Then she saw him.

He stood in the kitchen, humming a song she didn’t recognize. His back was to her as he rifled through the contents of her fridge. A sigh of relief pushed past her lips when she noticed he was wearing the clothes she’d given him last night. Except now the shirt looked lumpy, and the pants were hanging low on his waist, teasing her, tantalizing her, because a slight brush of air might slip them to the floor….

It was dangerous to become so enflamed at the mere sight of him. Yet she didn’t know how to temper her reaction.

Katie cleared her throat.

In one fluid motion, Jorlan whipped around and unsheathed a knife strapped to his ankle, ready to strike. The action so startled her, she could only blink up at him, unable to run, much less breathe. He stood there with the deadly aura of a man who knew exactly how to fight, how to kill and maim, each of his actions as terrifying as the weapon itself. When he realized who she was, he relaxed his stance and returned the blade to its makeshift holder. Even though the knife was now hidden, her heartbeat didn’t slow. No one should be able to move that fast or that lethally.

“Good dawning, katya.” He gave her a half grin that erased the hard lines of her mouth. “Sleep well?”

“No. I didn’t.” She chewed on her bottom lip, still staring at the sheathed blade. “What are you doing with that knife?”

“I was in need of a weapon.”

“Why?”

With a negligent shrug, he turned back to the refrigerator. “’Tis of no concern to you.”

“It is when you’re wearing my weapon.”

“If you must know, it is for my protection. If—” he faced her again, this time shooting her a narrowed glance as if everything depended on her “—if I travel to Imperia this day, I must be prepared ere my enemies come upon me.”

He’d said before that he was going home after she took him to the psychic, but she hadn’t really considered how far away that was until this moment. For a reason she didn’t understand, the thought of his leaving Earth suddenly saddened her. She wanted him gone, of course, just not light-years away.

What was his rush to return, anyway? Did he have a family—translation: a wife and children—that were awaiting his presence? Katie almost uttered a string of the foulest words she knew. Here she was, lusting for Jorlan, sad that he was leaving, and he could very well be married.

She wasn’t going to ask him, though. They didn’t have any type of relationship, and as he liked to point out, it wasn’t any of her business.

“Are you married?” Damn it! The question emerged before she could stop it. The man had tried to seduce her, after all.

“Married is life-joined, aye?”

“Aye. I mean yes.”

“Then nay.” He suddenly looked offended. “I would not have touched you otherwise.”

“Oh.” I’m not relieved, she thought, curls of an emotion she didn’t want to name floating through her bloodstream. I’m simply happy the man has some morals. “So you’re really going all the way home?”

“Only if we find a true mystic and only if—” He stopped and looked away.

“What? Only if I bed you?”

“Nay. Only if you fall in love with me,” he answered flatly.

She blinked. “I don’t understand.”

“’Tis part of the curse. You freed me. Now you must freely and truly offer me your love or I will be returned to stone. Forever, this time.”

“You’re kidding me, right? Trying to get me into bed again?” She laughed, the sound weak and unsure.

“Do you truly think I would tease you about my freedom?” The absolute conviction in his voice rang loud and clear.

“No,” she said softly. “I guess you wouldn’t.”

“My brother planned for another to kiss me—a woman I despised. He thought ’twould be amusing were I forced to pursue a woman I so loathed. But ’twas you, you and not she, who became my savior.” Jorlan pushed out a breath. “’Twas not my plan to tell you all of this, katya. Yet you are being so stubborn, I felt there was no other way. Can you try, at least, to help me?”

“I don’t know how to answer that.” The enormity of the situation hit her like the weight of a jackhammer. Jorlan’s fate rested with her. Good God. He might as well have asked her to weave her hair into fourteen-karat gold. “I mean, if I told you I loved you, it would be a lie.”

“This I know, but I can make you love me.” He took a step toward her. “Just give me a chance and I will give your body untold pleasure.”

“How would that make me fall for you?”

“Bodily pleasure often leads to love for a woman.”

For the briefest moment, Katie hesitated. Oh, she didn’t doubt his claim, and if anything, that was what scared her the most. “If I said yes and ended up giving you my heart, would you stay here with me? Even for a little while?”

He gave one stiff shake of his head. “Nay.”

She uttered a shaky laugh devoid of humor. “You’re asking for a lot from me, but giving little in return.”

“This I know, as well.” While he sounded properly apologetic, he didn’t offer a single concession. “I can make the pleasure worth it.”

Lord, what was she going to do? She couldn’t tell him no; she’d ruin his life. She couldn’t tell him yes; she’d ruin her life. “You’ll have to give me time to think about this.”

He frowned. “Time is my enemy.”

“Well, it’s all I’m offering right now. Take it or leave it.”

He drew out a long breath. “I will take it.”

They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence.

“You know,” she finally said to cover the mounting tension, “you’re going to need a little bit of magic to sharpen that knife you stole from me.” This line of conversation seemed safe enough. “It’s used for cooking, not killing.”

“It was not used for killing before.”

Great. Just freaking great.

“I have commandeered other weapons from your household, as well,” he added. As if he were speaking about something as tame as bunny slippers, he nonchalantly turned back to the fridge.

Dread slithered down her spine, chilling and oppressive. The morning had started off badly and was now progressively growing worse. “Want to tell me exactly what else you’ve commandeered?”

He’d found an old pair of Gray’s shoes, she saw as he showed her the pair of scissors strapped to his left ankle, the knife on his right ankle, the metal spatula at his hip and the rolling pin at his back, anchored by the waist of his pants.

“What are you going to do with that?” She motioned to the rolling pin with a wave of her hand.

“Do the talons fail me, I will strike my enemy into submission.”

“And the spatula?”

“I am not sure, but surely such a design is intended for severe torture.”

Torture was right. “You can’t just go around killing and torturing people, no matter what planet you’re on.” She said the words with enough force to let him know she meant business. “Put everything back right now.”

“Nay.” A hard glint darkened his eyes, and he shook his head. “In this I will not relent. When entering an unknown situation, a man must be prepared for the worst.”

He’s right, Katie thought, but she would never make such an admission aloud. Being prepared for the worst was the first lesson in self-defense. Yet none of her classes had mentioned defeating an attacker with a spatula. A pencil, maybe. Even keys.

Really, though, what harm was there in letting him have some of the “weapons”? She never used them, anyway. And if they made him feel safer, well, that was all that mattered. She couldn’t fathom being stuck on another world, alone and destitute.

“Why don’t we compromise?” she suggested. “You can keep the scissors and the spatula—” and look like an idiot, she silently added “—but the knives and rolling pin stay here.”

Silence filled the room as he considered her proposal.

Finally, he nodded. “I accept your compromise. Do you not see how reasonable and willing to negotiate I am?”

“Yeah, you’re a regular kiss-ass.” His face brightened, and she added, “You’re not getting a quarter, nor are you kissing my…Well, you’re just not!”

His eyes twinkled with mirth, making the pale blue irises sparkle like diamonds in the night sky. “I will not take you to task for your impertinence—unless, of course, you desire punishment in bed. There is still time ere we visit the sorcerer.”

She rolled her eyes, trying to appear cool and unaffected on the outside. On the inside, however, her body was screaming hip, hip hooray, there’s still time. “Make sure the weapons are hidden when we leave the house, okay?”

“I am not an untrained youth.” His mirth was quickly replaced with ire. “I know weapons must remain concealed when not engaged in battle.”

O-kay. With every word he’d spoken, his irritation had grown. Right now he looked ready to attack her with the knives for daring to insult his intelligence. Time to change the subject. “Did you find anything good to eat?”

“Nay.” His expression lost most of its heat. “You did not show me how to prepare this.” He held up a Tupperware bowl filled with pasta. A thin layer of mayonnaise and cheese coated the surface.

Ew, she thought. He’d tried to make a sandwich out of it.

“’Tis unseasoned and tasteless and hard and quite the worst morsel I have ever eaten.”

Katie noticed several bite marks around the corners of the bowl. Laughter threatened to bubble past her throat, but she swallowed it back. “That’s the container, silly. The real food is inside.” She pried the bowl from his fingers. The action caused her palm to brush his, sending a jolt of electricity up her arm. Shaky now, she set the plastic aside. “You don’t want what’s inside that for breakfast, anyway.”

“But I am starved, and you have no more supplies.” He stroked his fingers over his jaw.

Geez, housing an alien was more expensive than she had envisioned. “I’ll take you to this little café about fifteen minutes away. They make the best protein shakes. We can be in and out in less than an hour.”

Delight glimmered in his expression a split second before panic settled there. A heartbeat later, he grew pensive. He gave a small shake of his head. “Nay.” His tone held no hint of his emotions. “We will go to the sorcerer first. I am eager to meet the one who will take me home. After that, I will concentrate on you. And I will win you, katya. Doubt it not.” The last was added with an ominous edge, daring her to contradict him.

She gulped. “You may be willing to skip breakfast, but I’m not. The café has a cheese omelet that—”

“Nay. I have decided.”

“But—”

“Nay, katya.”

“Fine.” Grumbling under her breath, she grabbed the phone book from the shelf under the microwave. “We have time to visit one psychic. One. If this one doesn’t work, you’re out of luck for today. I’m hungry and have work to do, and I only promised to take you to one place.” She just prayed he understood how many one equaled.

“If you wish to convince me to dine first, such antics are not necessary. I have decided I will allow you to convince me…in bed.”

Always he returned to this subject. “You know, there’s a chance you could give me a million orgasms and I still wouldn’t fall in love with you. For your own sake, you might want to rethink your strategy.” Ha! Take that, she thought, flipping through the yellow pages.

“The only way to know for sure is to let me give you one million orgasms.”

Without glancing up, she answered, “No.”

How had he ever been foolish enough to think of a challenge as fun? Jorlan wondered. The woman was driving him insane with her denials. Do not touch me. Do not please me. Do not make me quiver with delight.

If only he wanted her simply because of the curse, mayhap hearing her say “no” wouldn’t bother him so much. But nay, each time he saw her, spoke with her, thought of her, Katie raised emotions inside of him he’d rather not encounter. She was slowly but surely worming her way under his skin, and he did not like it. She was supposed to fall for him, not the other way around. He knew only too well that romantic sensibilities were dangerous.

He could not fathom how she was getting to him so quickly and so expertly. Did she wield some sort of magic he could not sense? Mayhap. Aye, mayhap. ’Twould explain many of his feelings for her. Curse it, he’d thought his defenses were in place, both magically and emotionally. Yet here he stood, wanting her, needing her, as he’d never wanted another. Well, he had to do something to prevent further softening on his part. But how was he to fight against her and win her at the same time?

“Here’s one,” Katie said, her honey-rich voice cutting into his thoughts. “The House of Mysticism. A place where deepest desires are realized.” She paused. “Sounds like a hoax to me, but you’re the expert. It’s only five miles away, and the ad says—” Katie’s voice became mocking here “—the owner possessed the ancient power of the Druids.”

Druids? Jorlan’s back straightened, and he shot to attention. Though he could not read Katie’s language, he snatched the thick yellow tome from her hand and searched the pages. Druid. Druid. Druid. The name pounded in his head, an echo of his salvation. Surely this was no coincidence. His mother’s people were known as the Druinn. Mayhap they were one and the same.

“Well, what do you think?” Katie asked, gazing up at him through the thick shield of her lashes. “Does it sound like the kind of place you’re looking for?”

He nodded. “’Tis exactly the kind of place I am looking for. Let us waste no more time. We leave immediately.”

KATIE DECIDED TO ACCEPT that the day was only going to get worse when she found herself standing in front of an old, crumbly building with a neon sign that winked I KNEW YOU WERE COMING in bright pink letters.

Sunlight glinted harshly upon the fading yellow, blue and gold paint decorating the splintered wood. Several shingles were missing from the roof, and some, she noticed, were strewn across the front lawn and embedded in the weeds. She cringed at such an atrocity and fought the urge to offer her services, free of charge, simply to rid the world of such a visual blemish.

“Are you sure this is the kind of place you want to deal with?” she asked Jorlan for the third time.

His gaze scanned the perimeter, taking in every detail. “Is this the home of the Druid psychic?” It was the same thing he’d said each time before.

“Yes.”

“Then this is exactly the kind of place I want to deal with.”

Katie remained unconvinced. “Instead of relying on someone else, why don’t you just click your heels together or something and send yourself home?”

A muscle ticked in his jaw, and seconds dragged by in silence.

“Well?”

Nothing.

I don’t need this aggravation, she thought darkly. Every time she asked him a personal question, he turned mutinous, as if she had no right to know anything about him. He’d take her heart, sure. But share the tiniest bit of information about himself? Hell, no.

“Come on,” she snapped, angry with him—and with herself. “Let’s get this over with.” The man was too secretive, too stubborn, and she was better off without him. If this psychic had the power to help him, Katie decided then and there to lie and say she loved him just to get him out of her life.

Holding her head high, she marched to the front door. She reached out, clasped the knob, then stopped, waiting. Jorlan never approached her side. Frown deepening, she spun around. Her alien stood in the exact same place she’d left him, his chin angled to the side, his legs braced apart.

“I sense no magic here,” he said. His own frown deepened. He closed his eyes and drew in a breath.

“You didn’t sense magic in my answering machine, either, and look where that got you.”

“’Twas different.”

She wanted to ask how it was different but knew she’d get no answer. “Do you want to leave?”

“Nay.” He still did not join her on the porch.

Was he simply nervous? Anticipating success? Failure? Or was he right? There truly was no magic here. She believed the latter and decided to point out the obvious. “If there’s no magic here, they won’t be able to help you.”

“The most powerful of the Druinn are able to disguise and hide their power.” He didn’t seem convinced that that was the case here, however. In fact, every emotion except assurance played over his features: doubt, hope, determination.

In that moment, her demeanor softened toward him. He wanted to go home; she couldn’t blame him for that. Were the situation reversed, she would desire the same thing, and would do anything, use anyone, to gain what she wanted, and she probably wouldn’t share her personal information with aliens, either. At least he was honest about his intentions.

“Let’s go inside and give it a try,” she said softly.

“I need but a moment more.”

“All right. Take as long as you need.”

Jorlan jerked a hand down his face. Though everything inside him screamed to leave this place, he couldn’t walk away. If there was a chance, even a minute chance of discovering what he needed, he had to go inside.

When he tried to move his legs, however, they refused to obey. He scowled. What was keeping him locked where he stood? Doubt? Mayhap. Yet he knew that was not the whole of it. As questions swirled through his mind, a foreign emotion uncoiled inside him, an emotion he couldn’t identify—or mayhap did not want to identify.

How much time had passed on Imperia? If, like here, a thousand years had passed, how many of his friends had possessed enough magic to survive the ages? How many had suffered in death? How many still lived? How would his family receive him? Would he be welcomed with open arms or looked upon as a stranger? Jorlan dragged in a harsh breath. The sweet, gentle scent of the air was almost foul in his nostrils.

“I’ll be with you the entire time.” Katie’s voice wrapped around his body like a soft, comforting cloak.

His gaze sought hers and he watched a gentle smile play across her mouth, that mouthwatering smile that lit her entire face. A man could get lost in the sensual web she wove and forget all about his troubles. Forget his impatience to leave.

Jorlan shifted from one foot to the other and forced himself to glance away. The woman was in desperate need of a keeper, he was coming to realize, and ’twas a job that appealed to him more each second he spent with her.

Mayhap when he left, he would take her with him; he would instruct her in the proper ways to interact with a man, all the while winning her affections as the spell stipulated. He could make love with her—many, many times—with the mystique of Imperia surrounding them. Better still, Katie could serve as a seductive distraction did he have no family left.

As quickly as the idea formed in his mind, Jorlan discarded it. He would get what he needed from her, and then he would leave her here. He did not have room in his life for a woman from another world, especially one that made him feel things he was better off not feeling.

“When we finally come together, katya, many worlds will shake.”

“Yes, well…” Katie paused. Not knowing what else to say—which only happened in Jorlan’s presence—she pivoted to face the door. The knob turned easily, and she stepped inside, sinking into plush burgundy carpet. Jorlan was close behind her this time. The fine hairs on the back of her neck stood at attention, as if reaching for him, desiring his touch.