Gena Showalter Bundle: The Stone Prince / The Pleasure Slave / Heart of the Dragon

Alone.

Time to think about the kiss, her mind shouted.

“No. I’m not ready,” she grumbled.

Kiss, kiss, kiss.

Realizing she could delay the inevitable no longer, Katie sank onto the scarred hardwood floor, rested her chin upon her upraised knees and remembered. When she’d first felt Jorlan’s arms anchor around her waist, smelled his hot, masculine scent, she hadn’t wanted to run. She’d wanted to feel and touch him, to allow him to feel and touch her in return.

And oh, how he had touched her. He’d stroked his tongue into her mouth, sending scalding heat all the way through her. The world around her had faded to black, and she’d known only Jorlan. Desire had coiled deep in her belly, tightened her nipples, and pooled between her legs. She’d been completely lost. Lost, as if she no longer existed as a separate being. She’d reveled in every moment and hungered for more—more of the glorious sensations. The consuming ache. The sheer need. Her entire body had come alive, each nerve ending on alert and ready for completion.

She’d been kissed before, but this had been different somehow, more than a simple meeting of lips. Thinking back, she realized every other kiss she’d ever experienced had left her cold and hollow, and she had always craved escape. With Jorlan, she had craved forever.

For the first time ever, the chemistry had been exactly right.

I’m going to sleep with him, she admitted then. She could no longer deny the inevitable. Like Jorlan, she would always wonder what could have been if she didn’t take what she wanted now, while she had the chance. Besides, she’d played things safe with Jorlan so far and look where that had gotten her. Frustrated and unsure. Confused. Why not dive headlong into whatever pleasures awaited her in his arms? Damn the consequences?

Feeling more lighthearted than she had in days, weeks, even years, Katie gathered her heat gun and putty knife and jumped into her work. Two hours later, she was humming under her breath and tearing up linoleum in the upstairs bathroom when Jorlan reappeared.

“I have finished my task,” he said, his pride in his accomplishment evident.

She faced him. He had removed his shirt, and she saw that sweat beaded his forehead and chest. Several scratches from the sharp-edged rock marred his abdomen. Dirt streaked his brow. He looked like a primitive god, strong and confident and oh, so delicious. Knowing she was soon going to have all that strength above her and inside of her made her mouth water.

“What would you have me do next?” he asked.

“Why don’t we talk?” she suggested.

His chin tilted to the side, and he watched her for one protracted moment. Satisfaction flittered through the depths of his eyes. He nodded. “We will talk.”

Suddenly nervous—she didn’t know why—she set her tools aside and pulled her knees up to her chest. “Have a seat. Please.”

He eased down in front of her until they were eye to eye. Getting comfortable, he removed the weapons strapped to his body and set them at his side.

“I’d—I’d like us to get to know each other,” she confessed.

Whatever reaction she’d expected, he didn’t give it to her. He nodded calmly, assuredly, as if he’d known all along she would capitulate. “Why do you not begin?” he said. “Tell me about—”

“No!” Katie hadn’t meant to shout the word, but she’d suddenly been overcome with a single fear. What if she told Jorlan about herself, and he didn’t like what he learned? She wasn’t like most other women; she was lacking in so many of the feminine graces. “I’d rather hear about you. Tell me about your family, about your past. If you want to, I mean.”

“I will tell you anything you wish to know, katya.” He stared at the wall just above her left shoulder, perhaps seeing through it, through the passage of time and galaxies to his “other” life. “Where should I begin?”

“At the beginning, of course.”

“I thought as much.” He sighed. His muscles smoothed beneath his skin, and he settled his back against the wall. “My father, Great-Lord Gui-en Sarr, a king, you would say, died a few spans before my confinement. He—”

“Your father was a king?” she demanded, incredulous. No wonder Jorlan expected his commands to be instantly obeyed. He was freaking royalty.

“Aye, but the throne will never be mine.”

“Why not?”

“I was not chosen.”

Her brow puckered with confusion.

“An Imperian great-lord is chosen by the Kyi-en-Tra Crystal,” he explained. “Upon the death of the current lord, men journey from all over the world to touch the ancient stone, for whoever makes the crystal burn bright with crimson is known as the one true king until his death.”

She could just imagine the impatient hopefuls standing in line, awaiting their turn to touch the stone. “So you didn’t give the crystal color?”

He chuckled. “Do not look so sad for me, katya. My father’s brother, Challann, took the throne. He was a good and just man. The people adored him, as did I.”

“You would have made a spectacular king or lord or whatever.”

A negligent shrug lifted his shoulders. “The people would not have agreed. To them, my sorcerer’s bloodline tainted my royalty.”

“That’s discrimination.”

“But the truth all the same.”

Looking away from him, she tinkered with the scraps of linoleum scattered around her. “If you’re thought tainted, why do you want to go back so badly?”

“’Tis my home,” he said simply. Then shrugged again. “In Imperia, I may not be a great-lord, but I am a man of consequence, a warrior of great ability and power. Here I am only a man who must rely on a woman to see to my needs.”

Yes, she could see how that would eat away at his pride.

Stretching out her long legs, Katie leaned back against the wall. Cool tile seeped through the thin material of her shirt. She felt as though there was something she was forgetting, something she wanted to tell him. When she realized what it was, her eyes widened, and she silently cursed herself for getting so caught up in his story of kings and princes that she hadn’t said these words sooner. “I’m so sorry about your father’s death.”

He nodded to acknowledge her empathy.

“How did he die?” she asked gently.

Jorlan propped his elbow on his bent knee and hesitated only a moment before answering. “He was murdered. I commissioned several sorcerers to aid me in my search for the culprit, yet no one was able to divine the truth.”

“Were there any suspects?”

“Many believed my half brother responsible, but Percen did not have the strength to rise from bed that eve, much less thrust a talon into a man’s chest.”

“How do you know?” She tried to keep her tone light and easy, not wanting him to see how sad she was for him, how she longed to wrap her arms around his neck and take all of his past pain away. “Your brother could have been faking his injury to give himself an alibi.”

“’Tis not a possibility. He was recovering from a talon wound. A wound I inflicted.”

His words elicited images of blood and war, a side of Jorlan she knew existed but didn’t want to contemplate. She preferred instead to think of him as the charming, sexy man before her. A man who was a prince and should have been king. “If you had decided to challenge your uncle for the crown, could you have done it?”

“Why?” His gaze grew cold, like pools of ice in the winter. “Do you have hopes that I will take you back with me and make you my queen?”

“No,” she assured him, a little offended that he thought so little of her. “I’m curious, is all. Your mother was—is—a sorceress, yet her bloodline didn’t prevent her from becoming queen.”

The coldness remained in his eyes, but it was no longer directed at Katie. He seemed lost in his memories. “My mother was never truly accepted. Her sovereignty and the authority it brings were ignored.”