The Stone Prince

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.